Ella

A chill runs down my spine.

Babies. That’s what all this was about. It’s why I was taken. Why I was put in that glass prison. Why he made me fuck Cage … so I could make a baby that grows up into a fighter worth lots of money.

I’m breathing heavily as panic shoots through my body, making me want to run.

This can’t be happening. I can’t become pregnant. Not in this place. Not now.

When he approaches me, I can feel the fire running through my veins, forcing me to act. I can’t lie here and be silent while he takes what little I have left of my humanity. I won’t allow it.

When his fingers undo the leather straps around my body to put me in the wheelchair again, I’m still weak from the drugs, but I can feel my nerves awakening. A burst of strength flows through my body from sheer willpower, and the moment my feet are unlocked from the binds, I kick him.

Hard. Right in his face.

I roll off the table, trying to land on my feet, but I end up on my knees. Pain shoots through my body, but I ignore it as I grasp the first thing in view: a metal tray. As he comes back up, raging out loud, I smack it against his face.

He topples down to the floor, and I scramble away through what seems like a door. I still can’t make out everything around me, as my vision is still hampered, but I won’t let it hold me back.

I have to flee. Have to get out of here.

The urge to dash is stronger than the pain, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I glance behind me for only a second to determine whether he’s out before I make a break for it. Still half-intoxicated and completely wobbly on my legs, I make my way through the door and down seemingly endless halls.

I don’t know how much of what I see is real and how much of it is my imagination running wild, but I have to focus in order to get out of here. So I home in on all the doors and pick one then go down a set of stairs, almost tumbling over the last few.

Despite my lungs feeling as if they’re on fire, I run and run. I pass a room with an elevator and a black door with a numbered padlock on it. I pause for just a second, realizing this might just be where he keeps us. Behind that door … could be Cage. And I’m leaving him there. I’m abandoning him.

But I have no other choice, do I?

If I don’t run now, I might never have this chance again. Graham will be coming to his senses soon, and when he does, he’s going to follow me. And that numbered padlock makes it impossible for me to unlock the door. I don’t know the code. It would take hours, maybe days to decode, if I had that time. But I don’t.

Graham’s on my tail. There’s no time left.

I have to take this chance. Have to flee before it’s too late. Before he captures me again.

So I sprint away from the door and down the stairs in the far-right corner. I feel terrible for making this choice because I know Cage will still be there, all alone, waiting for me to come back. But the will to survive is too strong, too powerful to ignore.

I continue down a long hallway and past a set of windows that allows me to view the boxing ring Cage fights in. Up ahead is another door, and when I pass through it, I come through a dark room filled with red lights with a whole bunch of cages and podiums. One girl’s cleaning up the floor on her knees, her neck locked in place with a thick chain. I shiver, but there’s no time to help her.

Because I can already hear Graham’s screams behind me.

I bolt, not giving a shit where I run next. I’m going to escape this place. I need to, so I keep going until I find more doors, more hallways … and then … light.

Searing light.

Like a burning star right in front of me, scorching the very skin off my bones.

But I know for a fact it’s the drugs playing with my mind because what I see in front of me … is the warmth of the sun blinding me.

Making me cry tears of joy.

But there’s no time for elation, no time to stay and feel the breeze or smell the air because he’s coming. Fast.

My legs move me even though I can’t feel them anymore. I just know I have to keep running to stay ahead.

Through the red, scorching sand that lies in front of me.

Because literally nothing is around me … except for a desert and the burning heat of the sun.

My tears instantly dry up. I have no clue where I am or where I should go to get help. In the distance, I think I can see a dirt road, so I make my way toward it.

I glance behind me to see Graham emerging from the compound.

I have no idea where I am, and I don’t have a clue how to get away from here, but I will keep trying. I can’t let him take me again.

I’m bolting on pure adrenaline now, my body shaking as I rush through the biting sand that gets between my toes, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Giving up is for the weak, and here… outside … I’m no longer weak.

This is my home. My world.

The clouds above me protect me from losing my courage, the mountains in the distance providing me strength. I am human. I am frail. But I will not give up.

A pang shoots through my back, right into my spine, and I sink to my knees. I force my feet to get up and walk, but they don’t listen to me anymore.

Instead, I drop farther to the ground, my body incapable of anything but flinching. With the last bit of my energy, I touch my back … only to find an arrow stuck in my skin.

I pull it out.

Too late, the tranquilizer has already entered my system, poisoning me from the inside out. Within seconds, my body stops flailing, stops functioning entirely, except for my breathing and heartbeat.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I come face to face with my captor again, staring right back at me from above.

* * *

While I was out, Graham dragged me back to the compound and pulled me all the way back into the room where he keeps the wheelchair, putting me inside. I don’t even know where that is as the drugs coursing through my veins makes it impossible to focus.

All I can do is cry as I realize my only chance at escaping this hellhole was futile.

I’m back in his claws … going straight back into the glass prison.

As he straps me to the chair, I groan, feeling the drugs pour into me. I feel horrible, and it makes me want to puke.

I can see him watching me from the corner of my eye, judging me.

He leans over me and says, “You dirty little bitch … thought you could escape, huh? After everything I gave you … I told you, you might see the world again if you’d behave, but now you’ve really messed up.” He laughs, waving his finger at me. “Trying to run from a snatcher. Good one.”

“S-na…tcher?” I mumble, doing my best to get the word out even though it’s hard. I’ve never talked in front of someone I don’t trust, but the need to know more outweighs my fears right now. I need to learn every detail I can if I ever want to try to get out again. It’s my only hope. So every time I open my mouth, I pretend I’m talking to my mom, picturing her image in my head and her sweet voice talking back to me when I do.

He cocks his head. “What … you thought I was alone in what I do?” He chuckles. “Oh dear, you’re so sweet, so innocent.”

His words make me feel nauseous again, and they sound like poison coming from his mouth.

“Yes, I’m a snatcher,” he says. “Part of a company that deals in … well, you know. People.” The smile that follows makes me sick.

“S-sell …?” I ask with trouble. How many has he sold, and how long has he been doing this? How big is this company, and how many people are involved?

“You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?” he says, nodding to himself as if he thinks it’s clever. “But yes, we sell them. At least, I did until recently.” He taps his foot and rubs the back of his neck. “Damn Vladim disappearing on me like that … makes it hard to do business. Snatchers live for cash. I’m lucky I have my fighting ring as a side business. The bets bring in good money. But I want more.” He balls his fists.

“Why m-me? W-why C-Cage?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Cage was created for fighting; it’s in his veins, his blood. My blood,” he says, grinning.

“Which is why I want him to spread his seed,” he muses, letting his mouth run wild. “Everybody needs powerful, well-trained fighters in their ranks. They sell like crazy, but they’re so hard to make, considering what you need. Good genes, fighter DNA, a womb.” He clears his throat as he realizes he’s telling me too much. More than is good for him. “Not that it matters to you. You’re just an incubator.” He inches closer again. “Don’t think you’re useful for anything else here, girl.”

A mere touch of his hand on top of mine makes my skin crawl.

“You can try to escape, but you’re much too valuable for me to let you succeed. Good try, though. You’re not the first, believe me.”

I shake my head, wanting to get away, but I can’t. I’m trapped, locked in place by his heinous greed.

“Do you want to know what I did to the other ones who tried?” he asks, raising a brow.

I don’t respond, but he answers anyway, sliding a finger across his throat.

Bile rises again, and I have to swallow to keep it down.

He grasps the wheelchair’s supports, inching eerily close to my face, his breath smelling like death. “You know you deserve it, right?”

I try not to react, but it’s hard when my breath hitches in my throat. He grins when he hears.

“So are you going to be a good girl from now on?” he asks.

I nod vehemently, not trying to get killed.

He pauses, leaving me in agitated anxiety.

“You’re lucky I’m nice. Because you fucked my son and actually did what I asked, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but …” He holds a finger right up in my face. “Don’t think you can ever do that again without losing a finger or two.”

He turns and walks to a cabinet, plucking out a syringe, which he tucks into his pocket. Then he takes out a packet of pads and throws them on my lap. When he approaches me, I lean away, desperately trying to avoid getting stuck with a needle again, but he doesn’t attempt to stick it in me. Instead, he goes behind me and starts to push the wheelchair back through the corridors … back to the hole again.

I try to fight, try to struggle, but no matter how hard I try, the relaxant poisoning my muscles makes it impossible. I’m helpless as my captor brings me back to the place I never wanted to see again.

To that cell … where I left him.

The only one I can talk to even though he’s his son.

The moment Graham opens the door, I see him gazing at me, the look in his eyes feeding my despair. I feel guilty but, above all, sorrowful because I didn’t make it outside. That I now have to face his wrath as he realizes I abandoned him.

I feel terrible knowing he was in there when I wasn’t. That I betrayed his trust and left him even though I care about his fate too.

I wonder if Graham already told him what I’ve done.

Does he know I tried to run?

Does he hate me for doing it?

I won’t blame him.

I can’t.

I made this choice. Now I have to live with the consequences.

But as Graham carts me back into my cell, I can’t help but feel knots form in my stomach at the mere idea of being stuck in there again with the only man who even remotely cares about me in here.

He places the wheelchair down in the center, forcing me to look upon the man I left behind. He leaves the room for a second, only to come back later with a bunch of underwear, probably taken from the closet.

He places them on the bed and says, “That should be enough.”

He approaches me again and places a chilling hand on my shoulder. That’s when something sharp enters my neck. The needle.

I try to reach for it, forgetting I was tied up, so I’m unable to defend myself.

My body goes weak again, and I can barely keep my eyes open. The straps are untied, and he pulls me out, hoisting me into his arms. Then he places me on the bed and rolls out the wheelchair.

The last thing I hear is his ominous whistling before passing out completely.