Lucy

The gentle rocking of the vehicle wakes me. The cloth still blinds me. My eye is swollen and tender. I wet my lips and taste blood. I try to sit up but hit my head—I’m in a square, enclosed space.

My arms are still bound behind my back, and they’ve gone totally numb. My shirt is askew and with each bounce and sway my stomach chafes against a rough fabric that lines the space.

These guys are going to regret this!

My brothers and Roan will kill them all.

Anger is my friend. She keeps fear at bay. I could go ahead and get piss-my-pants scared right now, but that’s not the way to survive.

The vehicle slows.

I’ll pretend to still be knocked out, and when I get my chance I’ll make a break for it. This is probably my last chance to escape. Once they get me inside wherever it is they’re going, I’m dead. Raped and dead.

No freaking way. That’s not how I’m going down.

Not after surviving Scorch Flu, the fall of civilization, and getting rejected by the man I love. Nope, I’m going to survive this. These a-holes don’t know who they are dealing with.

The trunk opens and fresh air rushes over me. A rough hand grabs my arm, hauling it back so that it strains my shoulder sockets. Pain stabs me, but I bite my tongue, staying quiet, trying to act passed out.

I’m thrown over a shoulder again, my stomach resting against thick muscle.

My hands on Roan’s bare shoulders. Caressing that strength was like touching carved stone. Roan’s stronger than this loser. He and my brothers will save me!

The man who’s carrying me raises his free hand to stroke and squeeze my ass. I shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin as disgust brings bile up my throat.

“She’s not to be touched…yet.” Six Foot’s voice is a whipcrack.

The man laughs and he spanks me hard. It stings and I can’t help but jerk from the blow. “I’ve earned a feel or two. She’s a handful but will be fun to break.”

I swallow the bile stinging my throat. Yeah. Raped, and dead. That’s my future.

They’re walking again and I hear twigs breaking, wind rustling leaves, birds. We are in the woods. My hands and ankles are still bound. I doubt they’ll kill me at this point—obviously, they have some kind of sick plan.

And I don’t want to find out what it is.

It’s now or never. I take a deep breath and rear up. The man holding me loses his grip and I fall to the ground, landing on my feet.

I start to hop. It’s my only mode of transportation.

I hear laughter and a hand grabs my arm. “Girl’s got spunk. She’s gonna be real fun.”

His voice is deep and throaty, dripping with the threat of sexual assault. I’ve heard that tone before, but I never thought a man like this would get me.

My whole life people have known that I was protected. My brothers have always been an implied threat. Back in Philly, here in Idaho, everybody knows that I’m connected—that messing with me is messing with five scary dudes. Six, if you count Roan, and I certainly do.

But none of them can help me now.

An arm wraps around my waist. I struggle but I’m getting hauled backwards. My breath comes in short pants, face throbbing, and for the first time, fear is tickling up my spine, whispering in my mind, taking away logical thinking and replacing it with the need to scream.

I’m in deep trouble.

They drag me through the woods, my feet scraping on the ground as I keep fighting, trying to twist out of my captor’s grip.

When I get to heaven and meet my Pops, I want to tell him I did everything I could to get away.

The soft forest floor gives way to hard rock under my feet. The temperature drops and the darkness behind my hood thickens. The scent of wet stone filters through the T-shirt, almost like what the city smells like after a good, hard rain. The man dragging me picks me up again.

“Let me go!” I yell through gritted teeth, swinging my legs harder, trying to get dropped again, but the man holding me tightens his grip, digging his hands into my thighs so that tears sting my eyes.

No way am I crying. No freaking way!

“Almost there honey, don’t worry. You’ll be safe soon.” He laughs and I feel it against my chest, dangling against his back. He’s strong, bigger than Roan, a wild, dangerous animal with no morals. A man who takes a girl prisoner, threatens her with rape, and ties her up. A man who deserves to die.

“Grab her feet.” A pair of hands takes my bound ankles and they start to walk down stairs, their steps echoing in a narrow space as two men carry me. I stop fighting, not wanting to fall here, realizing that my efforts are useless.

The ground flattens out again and then I hear metal on metal, like hinges creaking. The texture of sound changes. We are in a smaller room, enclosed. I’m thrown forward and fall onto stone. With my hands bound behind me I land on my chest, my chin striking the cold floor so hard that my teeth ache, jolting a cry from my lips.

A man straddles me, his feet on either side. No, no, no. I wriggle, trying to escape. He grabs my numb hands and I hear the rasp of a blade on ropes. He’s freeing me.

“Lie still or I’ll cut you.” I recognize Six Foot’s voice.

I stop moving, saving my strength for once my arms are loose. When the bindings fall, my arms drop to my sides, dead weights, the circulation so restricted that I’ve lost all feeling. Prickles of sensation start to return as the man moves down to my feet, but I still can’t lift them. I kick out instinctively as he grabs my ankle, and feel a sharp slice on my skin. “Dumb bitch, you cut yourself.”

I kick at him again but he scuffles out of range.

I hear a metal gate closing, footsteps retreating. My arms are on fire, but I need to get this revolting cloth off my face. I rub my face on the floor until it slips off. Moist, cold air brushes over my bruises. I hiss out a breath of pain.

I can’t see anything. Am I blind?

No, it’s dark in here. Really, really dark. They must have taken any light source with them.

My eyes begin to adjust. A dull grey light glows on the other side of the metal gate I heard. I scoot over to it, my hands still useless by my sides except for pain shooting through them with every movement.

Pressing my face through the bars, I try to see out. To the left is another door, a bar of light leaking under it. To my right is total darkness. Across from me, condensation glistens on the metal bars of two other cells.

My arms are going back to normal, the pain subsiding. I wait a few more minutes to let the pins and needles fully abate before grabbing onto the gate and pulling myself up to stand.

“Is there anyone out there?” I call. My voice is sucked into the darkness. This cave doesn’t echo, it soaks up sound. I get no response.

I’m all alone here, in the dark.

Fear slides over me like a silk dress, clingy and seductive, whispering to give into it.

No! I’ve got to keep thinking, keep moving, stay angry and motivated to help myself.

I run my hand along the wall, trying to determine where I am. Wet stone down a long aisle and a lot of steps… I must be in a cave. The wall is rough and has bumps and hollows, like it was blasted out. I reach a rounded corner and keep going until I’m back at the gate.

The cell is small, probably about twelve by twelve.

I strike out toward the adjacent corner, my hands out in front of me, trying to find if there is any bedding or anything else in the middle of the space.

Please let me find a toilet.

My shins hit something hard. Feeling with my hands, I discover a wooden chair with a high back. The arms have leather straps on them. Why would the armrests have straps?

To restrain me for torture.

“Holy Mary full of grace, be with me in my hour of need,” I whisper. Mama’s Catholicism, drummed into me at a young age and rejected when I was old enough to do so, whispers out through my numb lips as I tiptoe along the edge of terror.

Maybe they’ll want information about the Haven. These men will want to take out my family’s compound. I can’t let them get anything from me.

I need to escape or die trying.

Feeling down the legs of the chair I find heavy screws holding them in place. One is loose! If I can unscrew the leg, I’ll be able to use it as a club. I squat down and begin trying to work the screw out, but footsteps draw my attention to the hall. I scuttle away from the chair and push into the furthest corner, my back against the slimy, rough wall.

A flashlight sways out of the dark as the footsteps approach. First striking the stone floor outside my cell, then shining in at me so brightly it hurts my eyes so that I hold up my hand, blocking the blinding beam.

“Well, well, well.” A deep male voice. “You boys did real good. Caught us a fine bargaining chip.”

“I told ya.” I recognize the voice of the man whose eye I stabbed. “She was a real hellcat. Almost took out my eye, like I told you. But Jackson said you’d be happy we brought her in.”

“I sure am happy, Joe Bob,” Boss answers him. “Lucy, right? That’s what they call you.”

My mind flashes to movies where prisoners of war just repeat their dog tag numbers over and over again—because there used to be rules about how to treat POWs in the time before the Scorching. But not now. I need to talk my way out of this if at all possible.

“Lucy?” I say, sounding confused. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m Sasha.” As in Sasha Fierce, bitches, Beyonce’s alter ego. I’m channeling me some fierce! Biting my fat lip and feeling the nip of pain helps me get stronger.

“She’s lying!” Joe Bob yells. “Jackson recognized her from the photos you have of all those dagos in the compound!”

Boss Man pays no attention to Joe Bob. I’m still blinded by the flashlight in my eyes, but I can see his silhouette, menacing and dark, behind it. “If you’re not Lucy Luciano then you’re useless to me. I’ll let Joe Bob and the rest of the boys have their fun, and then we’ll dump your body in the woods for the wolves.” His voice is even, calm, like he’s discussing the weather.

The silk dress of fear has a corset and it’s squeezing the breath out of me.

“So, honey, what’s your name?”

I need to buy more time. Get that chair leg. Figure a way out of here—and if I’m a bargaining chip, then they will keep me alive until I can get away. It’s my only hope. I stand up and lower my hand, letting the light hit me full in the face as I stare at the darkness above the beam. “Fine. I’m Lucille Luciano.” My voice is steady, but fear is tightening around my chest.

“That’s what I—”

I interrupt Joe Bob. “I wasn’t finished, asshole.” I keep going, raising my voice, strong and sure “My name is Lucille Luciano. And you’ll regret this day for the rest of your life. My family will destroy you.”

Thick silence, vibrating with angry tension, fills the cell.

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart.” Boss Man’s voice is as sharp as the blade that cut my ankle.

He throws something in, and I flinch back. Joe Bob laughs, sounding like a chipmunk in heat. A water bottle rolls to my feet. It’s probably drugged.

“I’ll be back to talk with you later.”

I harden my face like I don’t care, but inside, fear and anger are doing a tango.

Keys jingle and the hinges creak. I bend my knees, making claws of my fingers. I’m ready to fight, and maybe I can poke another eye out before they take me down. I’m never cutting my nails short again!

Metal clanks onto the floor. The flashlight illuminates a rusted bucket they’ve thrown in.

“For when nature calls,” Joe Bob says, his voice high with humor. “That’s where you can answer.” What a funny freaking joke.

“See you soon, Lucy,” Boss Man says as the gate clangs shut. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.” The lock clicks back into place and their footsteps retreat, taking the light with them. I slide down the wall, dragging in big breaths, sobs threatening to explode from my chest.

I will not cry!

“Assholes! Bastards!” I cling to anger. I’m the prisoner of some seriously messed up men who want to hurt me and will enjoy it, but I won’t give in.

Roan. He has a steely exterior, a coldness that protects a damaged heart. I know he’ll come for me. I put my head between my knees and picture Roan in the sunshine, his lips on mine, our bodies melded together.

He’ll save me. Maybe not in the physical sense, though I know he’ll try, but in my mind. I’ll hold onto Roan and the memory of our kiss, and it will keep me sane and whole, wrapped in sunshine and passion, protected and loved—even if it can’t keep me alive.