Page 118 of Wrapped in Their Arms

She crept to the metal door and carefully unlatched it.Thehinges groaned softly as the door swung open.

A rush of freezing air hit her square in the chest.Shegasped as goosebumps exploded across her arms and her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

It’s so cold,she thought.Ishould close it.Ishould walk away.

But somethingworsethan cold was rising inside her—dread.

She stepped forward and her bare feet slapped against the icy metal floor as she entered the walk-in freezer.Shewrapped her arms around herself, careful not to touch bare skin, her breath forming little white clouds in front of her face.

Rows of heavy plastic bins lined the walls, labeled in alien runes she didn’t recognize and the translation bacteria couldn’t translate.ButNoellebarely glanced at them.

Because right in the center—hanging fromhooks in the ceiling—were shapes.

No…not shapes.Bodies.

Her brain refused to process what she was seeing at first…it made no sense.

Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the meat locker and she saw—reallysaw.

Two bodies—upside down.Theywere hanging like butchered pigs, their ankles pierced by curved metal hooks suspended from the ceiling’s meat rails.Thickgleaming metal bit into their gray-green skin and the torsos swung gently in the cold air, bumping against one another with hard, frozen sounds.

The male—at least shethoughtit was male—had a limp, greenish penis hanging between his legs.Thefemale had breasts.

And both of them wereheadless.

Puddles of congealed brown blood pooled beneath their necks, staining the floor in dark, sticky swirls.

Noelle stared, her eyes getting wider and wider.Shecouldn’t move…couldn’t breathe.

Dios…MadredeDios…no, oh no…

She looked down at her dress.

The white collar was stained with a muddy brown splotch she’d mistaken for chocolate.

But it wasn’t chocolate—of course it wasn’t.Therewas no chocolate here, light years fromEarth.

It’s blood,she thought numbly.Bloodfrom whoever wore this before me.Probablyher.Andher eyes were drawn again to the headless female body, hanging by its ankles from the ceiling.

Her knees buckled and she barely managed to catch herself on the doorframe.

“He kills them,” she whispered, and hearing the voice coming from her own throat was like listening to a stranger.“Killsthem and eats them when he’s done with them…”

A horrible wave of nausea rolled over her and she had to swallow it down fast.

That’s what happened to the last girl.That’swhat’s going to happen to us if we don’t get out of here!

“BlessedVirgin,” she breathed.“Helpme…please, help me…”

Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of whistling, off-key and grating.

Cookie.

She lunged out of the freezer, heart hammering, and slammed the door shut.Herfingers fumbled with the latch, barely managing to make it click into place.

She tried to look normal—tried to make her face pleasant and innocent, as she stepped into the kitchen.

Cookie stood in front of the prep table, a massive cleaver in one of his four hands.Theblade was stained with something dark.