“Embrace the glorious mess that you are.”
—Elizabeth Gilbert
“Really. I’m not hungry.” Emmy’s stomach growls as she stares past the doorway at the dining table, the scent of eggs and bacon wafting into the hall.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up my text thread with Aubrey. “Your stomach disagrees.” My fingers dart across the keypad, but when Emmy still doesn’t move, I shift my eyes to her. I didn’t plan on doing a kill in front of her; however, I haven’t exactly worked out how to leave her behind either. Regardless of Raife’s motives, Murphy is finally coming, and I’m going to end him. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be . . . eventful. You don’t eat now, you might miss your chance. And your appetite.”
She frowns but eyes the table again, her feet slowly moving toward it this time. “All right.”
As she makes her way to the table, I stay in the hall and wrap up my text to Aubrey.
Me: Look into the agency Emmy’s sister went to work with. I want to know who they are and how they were able to contact her while she was here. Also, confirm that she did arrive and when.
Aubrey: Yes, Master.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I glance up to see Griff walking my way.
He stops right in front of me. “Big day ahead.”
I clench my teeth when he flicks his gaze to Emmy. “I thought we talked about the new rule, brother. You don’t get to look at her.”
His eyes flash, and he doesn’t answer. But he does look away from her.
“You guys should be proud,” I murmur, taking a step toward him until we’re almost nose to nose. “Going behind my back twice in two days.”
Griff’s lips twist up. “Someone needed to move forward, whether it was you or Raife, and you know it. Raife just happens to be the one getting the ball rolling. Who am I to deny him?”
“Considerate.”
He narrows his gaze. “I didn’t come find you to rehash.”
“So spit it the fuck out already.”
“There’ve been some changes this morning. One of your kills is going to be here sooner than expected.”
A snarl works through my throat, and I grab Griff’s collar, pushing him back against the wall. “You have no business fucking with my plans. There’s a reason I’ve been slowing them down.”
“Yeah?” He shoves my hand off him and pushes off the wall. “You guys may have saved my life, but when you start treating a chick better than your brothers, you need to look at your fucking priorities.”
We stare at each other for a minute, him looking as aggravated as I feel, and for the first time in a long while, I remember it.
The day I met Griff.
(Fourteen years old)
Fists slam down on the table, the teen’s body straining against the straps as he fights. Katerina walks a slow circle around him, trailing a fingernail along his body as she does.
“So many scars,” she whispers. “Poor Griffin. You’ve suffered so much.”
He huffs through her coaxes, still not saying a word. He’s refused to speak since she began this interview almost an hour ago.
“You can fight. You can kick and growl like an animal,” she murmurs. “But you will eventually have to speak.” She flicks her gaze around the room. “Do you see this small space? It feels cramped with the two cages and my artwork, doesn’t it? But this, this is a lot more than just a room. There’s history in these steel walls. You see, bomb shelters have many uses, many models, and this one in particular has a way of holding everything inside its walls. There’s not so much as a crack beneath the door to let its essence out, and such closeness allows my art to speak to me long after my subjects are gone.” She pulls back and inhales sharply. “Can’t you smell them?”
I close my eyes for a split second and swallow. Not because of what she’s saying, but because I can.
I can smell them.
Sofia jumps when the steel door swings open. Baldy’s fingers grip No Name’s arm as he shoves him toward my cage. The kid is naked, glaring and using his hands to cup his shit. I knew he was taken for pictures; I should have guessed they would have been nude.
Baldy is about to unlock my cage when Katerina strolls over and eyes No Name up and down.
She shakes her head. “I’ll never understand the use of children as sexual objects. Completely twisted.” She unlocks the cage herself and steps aside for Baldy to shove him in before locking it back up. “If Murphy hasn’t transferred him by the end of the week, move him back to the storage room.”
“It’s still full.” He pushes No Name’s clothes through the bars then nods toward the kid on the table, Griffin. “We’ve got his spot open but there’s already a new arrival scheduled to fill his crate.”
“Figure it out.” She gazes at Griffin, the wheels in her mind spinning. “I have an idea for this one. It will take a few days, though, then another week of prepping him for sales. I can’t have distractions.”
Baldy quirks a brow, then he nods and exits the room.
When Katerina heads back to taunt Griffin some more, I turn my attention to the buck-naked kid before me.
“Shit.” I shake my head. “Didn’t really think this one through, huh?” It’s a sick attempt at making his smirks come back, but now that he’s leaving, I realize it’s going to suck without them.
His glare shifts to me, but after a second, his lips tilt up. “You underestimate me,” he says under his breath.
My brows crash together. I match his quiet tone when I ask, “What’d you do?”
He nods toward the door Baldy just walked out of. “Remember his keys?”
I squint, scanning his body for something I missed. Even if he did manage to swipe them, where in the hell would he have stored them? “Yeah . . .”
He licks his lips, rubbing his stomach. “Best breakfast I’ve had all year.”
“You are a crazy son of a bitch.”
He smirks. “Fuck right I am. The crazy son of a bitch who’s getting us out of here.” He pulls his dirty jeans over his hips, then slumps down on the cold floor beside me. “You meant what you said about all the shit you wanna do to them, right? To these fuckers in charge?”
I rest my head back against the wall and picture it, letting two years of fucked up desires flood me. The way it eats through my skin and burrows beneath my bones grips me more like a compulsion than a desire.
After a second, I nod. “I don’t think I have a choice.” And I don’t think I want one either.
“Good.” He spits on the floor then wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes going black. “You and me. We’re in this together, right?”
I slide my eyes to him. The only kid I’ve met who might be more fucked up than me. The rattling chains pull my attention back to the teen strapped to the table. Griffin’s eyes are just as black as No Name’s while he continues to struggle.
Hmm, so maybe not the only one.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Together, man.”