My heart nearly jumps out of my chest, beating so hard that I’m starting to feel dizzy, and I quickly turn my head when I hear screaming outside.My mom’s screaming.And masculine laughter. Lots of evil laughter.
I thrash in my chair, roaring so loud that my voice grows hoarse, but no one comes, and the screaming outside continues.
It’s in my head.
It’s all in my head…
I’m not a nail biter, but in the last few days, I’ve chewed my nails to the wick while locked up in this claustrophobic bedroom. A single bed sits tucked away in the corner, a plain desk is pushed against the boarded-up window, and there’s an adjacent bathroom with a toilet and a shower. I’m ready to start peeling wallpaper soon if they don’t let me out or at least give me some information about Darian.
I woke up in here with my wrist cuffed to the metal bedframe. A young guy dressed in a Motley Crue T-shirt and gray shorts, with wiry chestnut hair and a small shaving scar on his chin, placed a plate of food on the nightstand and a glass of water. I asked him a million questions while rattling the cuff, but he said nothing and walked out. The same pattern continued for two more days. Last night, the handcuff was removed, so now I can pace the room.
What if Darian is dead? He was bleeding profusely when they dragged him out. I chew my thumbnail, ignoring the stinging pain of having already bitten it too short. Maybe Darian’s injurylooked worse than it was. I’ve never seen anyone get shot with a crossbow before.
My thoughts grind to a halt when the door opens, and Lauren steps inside.
She leans against it and studies me from head to toe, almost like I’m an insect she wants to squash, one she’s had enough of. The distaste in her gaze surprises me, but before I can read into it, she scans the room. A leather skirt hugs her curves, showcasing her long, toned legs, and her tank top shows ample skin. She’s tied her hair up in a high pony, which sways behind her now that she walks deeper into the small room and eyes the untouched food on the plate. “Not hungry?”
I’m too worried about Darian to eat. Just the thought of what might have happened to him knots my stomach. “Where’s Darian?”
“Have you learned nothing?” she asks, walking past me. “You need to forget about him.”
“Is he okay?”
She spins on her tall heels, studying me. “Darian is none of your concern. The Antichrist is.”
“Please,” I plead as my nerves run amuck all over again. “Just tell me if he’s okay.”
Her lips twitch, but she schools her expression quickly. “Darian is alive, for now. He was unconscious for a while but is awake and ready for interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” My blood runs cold. I’ve been a part of the Antichrist for long enough to know exactly how they extract information from captured Exodus members, and it’s not pretty. Sometimes, they blabber almost right away, but others are more loyal, and they’re the ones you have to break to get to the kernel.
I shudder as I recall the harrowing screams echoing from the cellar throughout the years. Sometimes, they captured Exodusmembers on Reckoning night and kept them alive for months. Though the soundproofing is decent, it’s not perfect.
“What are they doing to him?” I ask carefully as Lauren comes up behind me.
Her chest presses against my back, and she puts her mouth on my ear. “He’s tied to a chair in a closet in the dark.”
They left him in a closet?
My chest constricts, and I spin around. “Anything but that. You know what happened to him.”
A cold smile touches her lips. “Why do you think we locked him in there? Torturing him the good old-fashioned way would never work, but this will break him wide open.”
“You can’t do this! He’s terrified of closets.”
“No,” she says, inching closer. “He’s terrified of the memories associated with them.”
“Please,” I beg, my stomach churning.
She can’t do this to him. He’ll break beyond repair. I saw the look in his eyes in the cellar when he spoke to his vision of my father. The way he looked at me when I told him my father was dead. He thought he was there. He genuinely doesn’t remember parts of his past, and forcing him to relive the night they murdered his mother is beyond cruel. It’s evil.
“Please,” I repeat. “Don’t hurt him like this. Don’t force him to remember the fear and helplessness of that night. There’s got to be another way.”
She sighs like she’s tired of me. “See, this is why you need to stay locked in here. It’s a shame, you know. You could be out there fighting with us. Instead, you’re trapped in a cage for your own good until you come to your senses.” She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Darian never loved you. You were a bargaining chip—a way to get back at the Bishop, like a big juicy ‘fuck you.’”
“You’re lying,” I bite out, moving away from her touch.
“Am I?” she asks as her hand drops. “Maybe I’m the only one who pays attention around here and doesn’t follow blindly.” She digs her finger into her temple. “I actually think for myself, and do you know what I found out by sticking around and listening to that old lady you worship so much?”
