They drag us from the dining hall like animals. Two guards herd us through the corridor and down a narrow stairwell, the air growing colder and heavier with each step.
The basement reeks of mold, rust, and old suffering. The kind that lingers long after the screaming stops.
One of the guards, Enzo, waits at the bottom of the stairs, looming like a monument. He is tall, thick through the shoulders, his black tux stretched clean across a frame built like a butcher’s block. His face is blank and cold, like emotion has been carved out of him years ago. The kind of man who doesn’t blink when things scream.
In his hands, he holds an industrial hose designed to strip concrete, not people.
“Strip!”
No one moves fast enough.
He tears clothing away with brutal efficiency, fabric ripping, skin exposed under harsh lights. We are shoved into a line along the wall, naked and shivering.
The hose roars to life.
He turns it on Jared first.
The water hits him so hard he gasps, stumbling back as the spray hammers raw skin. When Enzo angles it between his legs, Jared folds to the floor, hands shaking in instinctive defense.
“Get up!” Enzo barks, kicking his ribs until he does.
Sarah is screaming, the hiccuping, manic kind that comes from someone whose mind finally snaps. She keeps choking out her sister’s name.
Emma is crying so loudly it echoes.
Miles leans toward me. His voice trembles. “Who’s Seth Kincaid?”
I swallow hard. The hose hits Emma beside me and she shrieks, her skin going red instantly.
“That’s who’s going to save us,” My voice cracks, but I keep going. “Seth won’t stop until he finds me. He won’t leave you guys either.”
Miles stares at me like hope hurts.
“If he broke out,” I continue, “that means he’s in Colorado. It’ll take him a day or two to get here.”
Miles shakes his head. “I don’t know if we have a day or two. The others that were here before…they told me. The next is the card game, and the day after that is the last hunt.”
My stomach twists. “The last hunt?”
He nods grimly. “That’s when they get rid of most of us. They let us out into the forest wearing bright colors so we’re easy targets. Crossbows, guns, knives, chainsaws… anything. It’s how they clear space before the next shipment of victims.”
A cold wave rolls down my spine.
Miles leans toward me again, his voice shaking. “We’re running out of time.”
Seth has to get here before that.
Enzo reaches me.
“Come on,” he demands.
I don’t move fast enough. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward, ripping the last scrap of fabric from my body. I try to cover my stomach.
The hose hits my legs first. The pressure is so strong it feels like knives carving upward along my shins, my thighs, my hips.
“Move your hand.”
I don’t.
