Page 6

ZOEY

S unlight streams into my cell, catching the dust motes in the air and painting the cold concrete floor in patches of pale gold. It’s soft, warm, and the only thing in this place that feels alive. I watch the light dance with the changing clouds from where I sit with my back against the far wall.

Outside the bars that make up my cell are shadows that stretch long and deep. The dim light from the window above isn’t strong enough to chase them away. The only sounds are my breathing and the occasional, distant scrap of nails against the outer walls.

Rotters.

I try not to think about them, or how close they are. I know they’re out there. Shuffling corpses. Bone-thin fingers dragging against the stone at my back. They’re close. Always close.

Though, I’m not sure which I’m more afraid of getting inside of here: the rotters or the dregs.

I shift, and a dull ache pulses through my body as a reminder of everything I’ve been through.

It’s been a full night since the dregs threw me in here.

A full night since I met Damon and Benji, two voices in the dark.

One commands me to survive, while the other makes me laugh.

I can’t see them, not really, but I know they’re there.

At least, I think they are, even though they’re not speaking right now.

I’m still not sure if they’re real, or products of my fevered imagination.

Either way, right now, their voices are enough to keep me going.

Then there’s Cole. The man in the cell across from mine.

He’s only a few feet away, but anything outside of my cell becomes engulfed in shadows.

I haven’t heard his voice, but I’ve seen his eyes.

, Two sharp green orbs that cut through the dark and watch me, even now.

They’re so sharp, so piercing, that part of me wonders if they’re even real.

For all I know, this entire thing could be a trick. A hallucination. Maybe I’ve snapped, and these voices in the dark are nothing more than fragments of my broken mind, trying to cope with this nightmare. With my worst fear. Wouldn’t be the first time someone lost it out here.

A sharp growl from my stomach pulls me from the thought, and I glance at the pathetic excuse for a meal still sitting on my tray, untouched.

The most edible thing on there is a candy bar.

Then there’s some kind of mush. Something sour that might have once been fruit, but I could be wrong.

Regardless, it’s nothing I can eat without risking my life since I don’t have access to insulin.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I try to think, try to plan, but my thoughts keep circling back to the same thing. Escape.

A soft thud startles me from my spiraling thoughts. My eyes snap open and I look down to see a bread roll sitting in the middle of my cell. I freeze for a second and stare at it like it might bite me. Then, I lift my gaze and my breath catches.

Cole.

Those green eyes gleaming from the darkness of his cell. Watching me. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. The eyes seem closer this time .

My fingers curl around the bread. I hesitate, then break the silence. “Was that you?”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move. His eyes don’t waver.

I roll the bread in between my fingers. “I don’t have much to trade, but I could offer you candy. Or…a moldy carrot,” I add dryly when I get a better look at my pathetic tray.

Still nothing.

From the next cell over, Benji’s voice cuts in, cheerful as ever. “I’ll take the candy bar. Pretty sure I’ve got some vegetables, but, uh, hard to tell in this lighting.”

Despite myself, I let out a soft laugh. “Fine. One candy bar for a mystery veggie.”

I grab the candy bar and slide it through the bars. A tray slides into my cell at the same time.

Our hands brush for the briefest moment. His skin is rough and calloused. A long, jagged scar runs across the back of his hand before he pulls it back into the dark.

“Much obliged,” Benji says. His voice is warm with amusement. Then I hear the telltale crinkle of the wrapper being torn away.

“Enjoy.” I glance down at my trade and raise a brow. “This mystery veggie is steamed broccoli. They’re feeding you guys much better than they are me.”

“Perspective,” Benji says through a mouthful. He must enjoy it, because I think I hear him licking his fingers. “Never been a fan of greens myself.”

I smile, watching the darkness that fills his cell. “Glad I could help.”

“Eat.” The single-word command slices through the moment.

I turn toward the voice. Damon. I can’t see him, of course. A ghost of a man with a voice like steel. A part of me wants to argue, but I don’t. It’s nice, having complete strangers willing to help and keep me alive. That’s a rare thing to find.

So, I eat my prize of broccoli and bread, drinking water in between and being grateful I’ll have one less day to worry about dying.

That still doesn’t solve my problem. I need to get out of here. All four of us do.

My gaze drifts back to Cole’s cell. He hasn’t moved. Haven’t looked away. His silence is unnerving, but there’s something almost comforting about it, too.

For the longest time, being captured by dregs has been my worst nightmare. Ever since that worst day of my life that I’ve never told anyone about. Now, the only thing keeping me sane is knowing I’m not alone in this.

With my stomach no longer growling, my mind sharpens and an escape plan takes shape in fragments. It drifts into my thoughts while I stare down at the last bit of the water in my glass.

I can’t stay here much longer. That much is obvious.

Waiting for someone else to act? That’s not happening, either. Damon already told me escape is impossible. Benji jokes, but he doesn’t sound convinced. Then there’s Cole, and who knows what the hell is going through his head?

These men have already given up, but that’s because they’ve never had someone as stubborn as I can be. Or someone like Emily, who made it impossible to ever consider giving up again.

After finishing off the last few drops of water, I set the empty glass back down and stare at it.

An idea takes root. It’s crude and desperate, but it’s something.

All I have, really. I pick the glass up again and run my fingers along the smooth edge, and test the weight of it in my hand. This might work.

Before I can think twice, heavy footsteps echo from down the hall.

A jolt of alarm shoots through me, and I shove the glass into the back waistband of my shorts so it’s pressing lightly against my lower back, secured.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Damon’s cell. I’m not sure if I imagined it.

The lock to the cell block clicks, and the heavy metal door groans open. I work to calm my breathing and my racing heart.

A moment later, the same dreg from this morning stops in front of my cell. He leers at me behind massive, bushy eyebrows. His mere presence makes my skin crawl.

“Reconsidered my offer yet?” His gaze drops, slow and lecherous. I hate it. I want to gouge his eyes out and roast them over a fire. Make the worlds saddest s’more. Too bad he didn’t give me a fork for my food. Even a spoon would work.

I swallow my revulsion and straighten my spine. “Um…still thinking about it. In the meantime, I have to pee. Can you please take me to the bathroom?” I throw in a saccharine smile that makes me want to vomit.

He hesitates, and his eyes narrow before glancing behind me. “No bucket yet?” He grins, making those bushy eyebrows seem even more massive. “Guess we’ll have to fix that.”

A shudder runs through me. No. No, no, no. There’s no way I’m using a bucket in the open like some caged animal. Escape is happening now.

He slides a key from his belt loop. “But sure. I’ll take you. Maybe keep you with me a little longer, too.”

Another shudder crawls up my spine, and I fight back the broccoli that tries to make a reappearance. I don’t think the dreg notices it, but I do. There’s movement from Cole’s cell. A shift. A scrape of metal. Maybe if I hadn’t eaten the bread, I could have shoved it up this guy’s nose.

The dreg presses the key to the lock. I inch closer to the door, but he holds up a hand to stop me. “Hands behind your back.”

A smile twitches the corners of my mouth. Perfect.

I obey. I snake my hands behind me and curl my fingers around the smoothness of the glass cup. A low warning growl rumbles from Damon’s cell behind me, but I ignore it. I’ll show these guys that we can escape this place.

My pulse pounds so hard, I wonder if the dreg can hear it.

The cell door creaks open.

With a sharp pivot, I swing the glass toward his head. A loud crack rings out. The impact is sickening, but effective. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the cell block. Blood sprays, and the dreg staggers back with a roar of pain.

For a second, I think I’ve done it.

Then his hand shoots out. Fingers clamp around my arm like a vise.

He pushes forward, twisting us both until I’m slammed against the bars separating me from Damon’s cell.

Pain explodes through my back, stealing my breath.

My vision blurs for half a second. Then I see it.

The moment he moves back into the light.

The streak of blood that drips down his face from a fresh gash in his forehead is one thing, but it’s his eyes that make me gasp for air.

They’re dead inside, but ignite with a fury and cruelty that immobilizes me.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. His breath is hot against my skin. “You think you’re so smart? You think you can take me?”

The grip on my arm tightens, threatening to crush the bone beneath his bare fingers. A sharp, pained gasp is the only response I can give when words fail me.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer. His voice comes out in a low, vicious whisper. “Try that again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Before I can respond, Damon’s arms explode through the bars and wrap around me, knocking the dreg’s hand away from my arm.

Damon crushes me against the bars until I can feel his strong chest against my back.

His grip is firm and protective as he yanks me back and drives his fist into the dreg’s jaw with brutal precision.

The sound of impact echoes through the hall, and the dreg staggers back with a curse.

Damon’s voice is low and venomous, filled with a fury that sends a shiver cascading down my spine. “Touch her again, and I’ll break your goddamn neck.”

The dreg glares with blood dripping from his mouth.

I expect him to whip out some sort of weapon, but then he steps back and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’ll pay for that.” His lip curls into a sneer before he slams the cell door shut.

His heavy footfalls echo when he storms away down the corridor.

Damon’s hands linger on my arms a second longer than necessary before he pulls away. “What the hell were you thinking?” he growls out. His voice is sharp and raw with anger.

I whirl to face him. Frustration and embarrassment war in my gut. “Well, I was thinking I don’t want to die in here, so I might as well try to get out. I was trying to?—”

“To what? Get yourself killed?” Damon snaps. I can’t see him, but I imagine fire in his eyes. I almost wish I still had the water to put out the flames. “You think you’re the first one who’s tried to fight back? You think they won’t make it worse for you next time?”

My voice rises. “It was better than nothing. It almost worked.”

“‘Almost’ doesn’t cut it here, Zoey,” he growls. I picture him as a really large dog, with all the growling he does. “ You make a mistake like that, and they won’t stop with threats. They’ll make an example out of you.”

Benji sighs from his cell, his usual humor absent. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right, Zoey. These guys don’t mess around. You can’t go off half-cocked and hope for the best. You gotta be sure you won’t be overpowered like that.”

My chest heaves when I spin around to glare at the darkness in all directions. I hate not being able to see them. All I’m doing is arguing with voices in the dark. “At least I’m trying. All you’re doing is sitting here, rotting away.”

“You think that was trying? That was suicide,” Damon says, his frustration boiling over.

“Well, at least I did something,” I fire back. “What have you done, Damon? Besides give up?”

He doesn’t answer, but I feel his stare burning into mine. There’s something raw in his silence. Something broken.

“Don’t do it alone next time.”

The voice lacks the usual growliness and catches me off guard. The anger leaves my body. “Does this mean you’re willing to help?”

Silence.

Then, right when I think I might have imagined it, Damon speaks again. “Next time, don’t do it alone.”

That’s all the confirmation I need to know they’re no longer giving up.