Page 39

ZOEY

T he long wooden table stretches before me with a lavish display of roasted meat, baked bread, and fresh vegetables laid out like some grotesque celebration feast. It looks almost civilized.

Like something out of a world that no longer exists, but I know better.

This isn’t a reward, a surprise, or a gesture of goodwill.

This is a performance, and I’m about to witness a show that I know I’m not going to like.

I dread to find out what kind of performance requires me to wear an emerald green floor-length gown. Unbeknownst to him, I’m still wearing my shorts and t-shirt underneath, which makes me feel a little more comfortable in the most uncomfortable moments of my life.

The chairs line up perfectly on one side of the table, facing a raised platform in the center of the room. The side of the table is empty. I guess we won’t be having guests with us.

Eugene guides me to sit in the middle before pulling out a chair beside me and settling in with a satisfied sigh, as though this is just another normal evening for him.

“You’ve earned a front-row seat,” he says before plucking up his knife and slicing into the meal on his plate with slow, precise movements. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

My stomach twists into knots, but I don’t touch my plate.

Eugene notices right away, and without hesitation, he reaches over with his knife to cut my meat into neat, bite-sized pieces, as if I’m some helpless child.

His elbow brushes against my chest and lingers long enough that I know it’s intentional.

I fight the urge to grab the knife from him and plunge it into his dick.

“We have a big night ahead of us.” His tone darkens, turning the statement into something closer to a threat. “You’ll want to eat.”

My fingers tighten around the fork with reluctance, and right when I stab at the mashed potatoes, the double door swing open, and chains rattle.

My fork tilts and mashed potatoes and gravy spill onto the soft emerald green dress, but I barely notice, because of the three figures being led inside with their wrists bound in thick metal cuffs.

The air leaves my lungs and the world tilts.

Cole comes first. His shirt missing puts the bruises and darkening ribs of his lithe, muscular frame on full display, and my stomach clenches. I know exactly how he got them.

Damon is next. Exhaustion is written all over him, with his body tense. His stringy dark hair falls into his eyes. His breath comes out slow and controlled, but I can see the weariness in his brown eyes, though he doesn’t look at me yet.

Then Benji. I see his face for the first time now that it’s not obscured by shadows.

His light red, strawberry blond hair that’s overgrown from captivity and pulled back in a bun that I never expected him to have.

I’ve known his voice, his laugh, his touch through the bars, but this is the first time I’m truly seeing him, and it destroys me.

Especially when he looks straight at me, and there’s nothing in his beautiful hazel eyes when they should light up the room.

The light I always imagined in him is gone, replaced by something shattered, haunted. A hollowness that makes something inside me fracture.

Eugene curses and yanks the fork from my grip. “Do you have any idea how many people I had to kill to get that dress?” His voice doesn’t register. Any words coming out of his mouth pale in comparison to the three of them.

Lola lets out a low whine from where she’s tied to a table leg beside me.

Eugene leans in and speaks with a gleeful purr. “You saved Damon once. So I figured, why not change things up?”

My pulse hammers. “What does that mean?”

He gestures toward the platform in front of us where his men are arranging poles and tightening ropes.

It almost looks like a wrestling ring, except for the addition of long metal chains hanging from the ceiling outside the platform.

“Why, a fight, of course. A little entertainment while we eat. A test of survival.”

“No. You promised.”

Eugene’s knife halts mid-cut and he tilts his head at me. “Oh, little lamb. I kept my promise. I said I’d let them out of their cells. You assumed that meant full freedom. That’s on you, not me.”

I should have known. Of course, he would twist his own words. Manipulate the truth.

Guilt crushes me, and I gasp for breath, causing Damon to halt in his tracks. The dreg leading him shoves him forward, and he stumbles, but then catches his balance.

I shift my gaze across the three of them where they’re now chained to large metal rings in the ceiling outside the platform.

My stomach twists painfully at the bruises on Cole’s body and knowing I failed to protect him the way he protected me.

I saved them from being thrown to the rotters, but instead I threw them to an even bigger monster.

Damon’s face is stone, but I can still see the tension in his stance. I don’t know what happened to him after I left him on the roof, but I’m glad to see he’s still alive. If only his eyes didn’t mirror my own heartbreak.

Then there’s Benji. He stares at me, as if he’s still trying to figure out why I sacrificed myself for them.

The devastation on his face is mixed with guilt, which I assume can only be because of our last conversation.

I hated leaving things how we did, but I hope he saw my message in the dust. I know where we are, and reinforcements aren’t far. They’ll come back for me, I know it.

Eugene leans in closer, sending a shiver of disgust down my spine, but I don’t move, except for the shudder of revulsion that moves through me. “Since Damon got a pass last time, we’ll start with the other two.” He nods to his men near the platform. “Cole and Benji.”

No.

“They will fight. They will bleed.”

Benji’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t react. Instead, his haunted gaze stays locked onto mine.

The dregs unchain them, and shove them between the ropes and onto the platform. I jolt in my seat and grip the table so hard my fingers ache.

Cole spins around and reaches for one of the dregs, but when he does, Eugene shouts out for him.

I feel the cold press of sharp metal against my throat, and my breath catches. “Touch anyone but each other, and you won’t be the only one bleeding.”

Cole freezes.

I force my fear into hiding. “You wouldn’t dare. Not after everything it took you to get me here.”

Eugene turns his yellow-toothed grin on me.

“Exactly. Now that I have you, I can do whatever I want with you. Including carving my name into whichever part of your body I please.” He reaches out to touch the growing bruise on my cheek, and I flinch back.

“I’ve already started leaving my mark on you. ”

Cole’s entire body trembles with fury. He takes a step, but then Eugene tilts the knife and a single drop of blood falls down my neck, halting Cole in his tracks. He doesn’t risk it.

The moment their cuffs fall, the dregs outside the platform raise their weapons of guns, tasers, and polished knives that gleam in the light.

Cole and Benji stand opposite each other. The tension crackles.

Benji is the first to break the silence. “Just do it. I deserve this.”

Cole doesn’t move. “No.”

Benji steps forward, and his hands ball into fists. “Dammit, Cole. Do it already. Hit me!”

One dreg lunges forward and shoves his taser between the ropes and straight to Cole’s ribs. Electricity rips through him. He jerks with such violence that a strangled sound escapes his throat, but he remains upright.

“That was a warning,” Eugene says around a mouthful of food. Some of it falls onto the table, partially chewed. “Either you bleed, or she does. Now get to it. I’m bored of this hesitation.”

I barely hear the crack of impact from Cole throwing the first punch, due to the blood roaring in my ears.

Blood spatters everywhere. So much blood.

Benji staggers, his lip split, his nose bleeding.

“Let’s up the ante, shall we?” Eugene waves a lazy hand, and Cole’s and Benji’s hands are yanked behind their backs and shackles slammed back onto their wrists. Then a figure steps forward from the shadows. A rotter .

Chains clatter when it’s shoved forward, snarling, its rotting hands outstretched.

“No,” I breathe out.

“Now let the show begin.” Eugene chuckles and shoves another piece of meat into his mouth, and I snap.

I slam my palm down onto the end of the fork while it’s in his mouth, shoving it deep into his throat. His eyes bulge, and he chokes.

Without a moment of hesitation, I grab my plate and hurl it across the table. The sound of shattering ceramic barely registers before I bolt, and I don’t think. I move.

I vault over the table and land hard against the wooden platform. Someone shouts. A dreg moves with a crackling taser. I throw myself over Benji and shield his body with mine. The taser slams into my ribs, and pain blinds me. My body seizes.

White-hot agony explodes through my body, locking my limbs in place and burning through my veins.

I don’t scream. Not that I have control over that.

Benji’s arms wrap around me, and he rolls me beneath him.

Then only darkness remains.