Page 11

ZOEY

T ears cling to my cheeks when I wake, dried salt tightening my skin. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been running for miles but getting nowhere. My fingers twitch against the cold stone floor, and something soft brushes against them. I freeze.

When I reach out my hand, my fingertips graze the thin, worn fabric of a blanket. My brows furrow. A blanket?

Confusion prickles through me and I pull it tighter around my shoulders. The warmth is foreign against my chilled skin. When did I get this? The dregs wouldn’t give it to me. There’s no kindness in them. Not a single cell in their body is capable of offering comfort.

I blink against the darkness, but the shadows remain unbroken. For a moment, I wonder if I’m still dreaming. Then a voice rumbles from the cell beside mine. “It’s mine.”

Damon. His voice is rough and edged with reluctance. “Why do you sound like you’re admitting to a crime?” I ask.

“You looked like you needed it more than me,” is his only response.

My chest tightens at the unexpected kindness. A small, fragile smile tugs at my lips. The first smile I’ve felt in days. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” His tone is softer. A far cry from the anger I’ve experienced from him so far. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Seriously. Don’t.”

A quiet laugh escapes me, but the moment is short-lived when the sharp clink of a lock turning shatters the few seconds of peace. I jolt upright. Damon moves fast. He yanks the blanket through the bars and tucks it away as if it never existed. The air turns colder without it.

The heavy metal door groans open down the corridor, with the hinges screeching in protest. Footsteps approach, lighter than the usual heavy boots that seem to go along with being a dreg.

My pulse pounds when a figure steps into view.

Taller than most, leaner, with a wary posture.

He stops outside my cell and crosses his arms over his chest.

The thing that strikes me the most is the fact that he doesn’t sneer. He doesn’t leer. That alone makes him different. His looks are intimidating, but something about his presence isn’t like the others.

His face is sharp and angular, all edges and quiet intensity, with dark brown eyes that flicker with something unreadable. A split eyebrow that looks like a burn mark, and his hair is short and messy, like he’d rather not waste time fixing it.

“Who are you?” I narrow my eyes. He’s a new dreg.

He lifts a brow and his mouth tugs into something that isn’t quite a smile, but it’s not a scowl, either. “Jace.”

I study him, waiting for that familiar cruel smirk, for the inevitable jeering remark, but it never comes. Instead, he stands there, shifting on his feet like he’s not entirely sure he wants to be here.

“Boss wants your hand fixed.” He eyes my palm. “He doesn’t want you bleeding out all over the place.”

I glance down at my hand. Dried blood stains my skin from the cut where Benji removed the glass shard. Now it looks raw and irritated.

“Well, I’d say you should be more worried about an infection than a clean floor,” Benji says in an annoyed tone.

Jace looks over at Benji’s dark cell. “That’s exactly what I told him.”

“Huh. Didn’t expect that.” Benji pauses for a moment. “Alright, then. Carry on.”

I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, thanks for getting that all squared away, Benjamin.”

“Any time, golden girl.”

I shake my head and raise my hand. “Let’s get started, then. Wouldn’t want me to inconvenience anyone by staining the concrete.”

Jace sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Look, it’s either this, or he orders someone to cut off your fingers. Can you cooperate?”

Before I can respond, a small blur of movement catches my eye. There’s a scrambling sound, followed by the soft click-click of nails against concrete.

Jace swears under his breath. “Shit. I didn’t close the door all the way.”

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but then a dog barrels into the corridor. It’s clearly a puppy judging by the size and the energy. A chocolate labrador, I believe. My jaw drops. “A dog?”

Before Jace can grab the dog, it wiggles between the bars of my cell and squeezing all the way inside with surprising ease. “Lola,” Jace calls, but Lola ignores him.

I barely have time to react before she launches at me with her tongue out and tail wagging. I let out a surprised yelp when she licks my face and knocks me back against the cold concrete floor. The laughter that bubbles out of me is completely unbidden. “What the… ”

She doesn’t stop. She licks and wiggles her butt, so her tail thumps wildly against my leg.

“Lola,” Jace hisses out and then reaches through the bars. “Get back here.”

“Don’t think Lola wants to listen to you,” I point out with a laugh. She sniffs at my shirt, then plops her head on my lap like she’s claimed me. I grin and rub behind her ears. “Well, aren’t you just the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time?”

Jace scrubs a hand over his face. “God dammit.”

“She yours?” I ask while scratching Lola’s head. She’s beautiful, and her sweetness is infectious. It almost makes me forget about the dire situation I’m in.

Jace’s expression darkens. “Kind of.”

My fingers trail over Lola’s front leg, and I laugh when I see the scar. It’s thick and slightly raised, as if a deep cut had once marred her perfect fur. “What happened to her?”

He hesitates, then shifts on his feet and looks away. “One guy tripped over her. Got mad.” He swallows hard. “I shouldn’t say more.”

My stomach twists at the implication. “Maybe I’ll keep her safe with me.”

Jace lets out a humorless laugh. “The guys won’t like that.”

“Tough shit. She’s staying.”

A low sound of warning comes from Damon’s cell. “Zoey, that might not be the best idea.”

“Yeah, golden girl. Remember that whole conversation we had on survival? I think this might get the opposite result.”

Jace nods in agreement. “You should listen to them.”

“Oh, if we’re doing that, then let us out of here, good sir,” Benji says.

Jace rolls his eyes and ignores him, but before either of us can say anything more, another set of boots thud against the floor. They’re approaching fast. Jace mutters a curse under his breath. Then I see why.

The dreg that Damon punched earlier, Greg, stalks into the room. His lip is still swollen and now his eyes have darkened into bruises. His glare locks onto me immediately. It’s full of venom. “Where’s the damn mutt?”

My muscles lock, and on instinct, I shift closer to Damon’s cell.

Jace moves fast. He reaches through the bars and into my cell to grab Lola, who lets out a confused little whine but doesn’t struggle. “I got her. About to take her for a walk.”

The dreg sneers. Ah, there’s the look I expected to see on Jace, but I guess it must be reserved for this guy instead. “Eugene’s looking for her.”

Jace’s grip tightens around Lola, and I want to snatch her back and clutch her close and shield her with my body, but it seems as though fear has frozen me in place.

“I’ll bring her to him soon,” Jace says, his voice carefully neutral.

The angry dreg lingers a moment too long. His gaze snaps to me, and his lip curls into something cruel. “Bet you’re real comfortable in there, huh, sweetheart?”

The words send a violent shudder down my spine, but I don’t react. To my surprise, I feel Damon’s presence in the darkness behind me, and it makes me feel more secure. So I lift my chin and I keep his gaze, refusing to show him the shattered pieces I have hanging on by a thread.

He smirks, but before he can say more, Jace shoves his shoulder. “Go on, you’re wasting time. Eugene will have your ass if you prevent me from fixing her up like I’ve been ordered to do.”

The dreg sneers once more, then disappears down the hall.

“Sorry about that. Not all of us are horrific.” A shudder runs through Jace. Then he sets Lola down and she runs through the bars again to get to me. “You’re welcome to hold her while I patch you up, but then I need her back.”

“As long as she visits again, we have a deal.” I smile when she crawls into my lap, and then I hold out my hand.

Jace pulls out some meager supplies. Gauze, a wrap, I’m not sure. My full focus is on the sweetest four-legged creature, while Jace cleanses and bandages my hand through the bars. Maybe I can do what Emily did and save her from the dregs. Take her with me when I manage to escape this place.

Once Jace is done, I let Lola run back through the bars like I promised and watch her disappear down the corridor on his heels. The door clangs shut behind them. A few minutes pass before Damon’s voice drifts into my cell. “Don’t make any more problems for yourself, Zoey.”

I smirk, a plan already forming. “Can’t make that promise.”

The bucket sits in the corner of my cell like it’s mocking me.

A bucket. No cot. No blanket. No single ounce of comfort. Nothing but a stupid, degrading bucket.

I glare at it with my arms crossed over my knees, trying not to let the humiliation sink too deep. This is my punishment for fighting back and trying to escape. Now, instead of being escorted to a bathroom, I get this.

The guys swore they would turn around when I have to use it. That’s all I have to go on. Their word. I have no choice but to believe them, when all they are to me is words in the dark.

I shift my position to pull my knees tighter to my chest and remind myself this is temporary. That’s all it is. Maybe when I get out of here, I’ll shove that damn bucket onto one of the dregs’ heads for payback. After I use it .

“What’s got you smiling over there?” Benji’s voice drifts over from his cell.

“Thinking about how to use the bucket.”

“Wow, that is so not what I was expecting. Please, keep that to yourself.”

A short laugh bursts out of me when I realize how that sounded. “That’s not what I meant. I was thinking about dumping it on someone’s head. Maybe Eugene’s. Or the dreg with the busted lip who brought it to me in the first place.”