In the next moment, the burlap sack over my head is removed, and I blink rapidly, attempting to orient myself.
The room I’m now in is small and gray—a cement box.
Will this be my prison for the foreseeable future?
Fear coils around my chest like steel belts, making it hard to suck in a full breath.
The door behind me snicks shut, and I spin, my heart pounding wildly, only to find I’m not alone.
An unfamiliar woman stares back at me, her firm lips pressed into an unyielding line and her golden hair shaved on the sides while looped through intricate braids at the top. The insignia of the Nóthos rests on her sleeve.
“Here,” she tells me stiffly, thrusting a bundle of fabric forward.
I stare at her with furrowed brows, unsure of what she wants from me.
Irritation crawls across her face, puckering her lips. “Get dressed.” She pauses and then adds, “Unless you want the men to dress you themselves.”
Get…dressed?
Cold fear snakes its way down my spine, slithering in my stomach like a nest of hissing snakes.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper as I take the garment from her hands.
It’s a…dress. A pretty dress, admittedly, with a sweetheart neckline and laces that crisscross across the back. The color, though, is an unassuming gray that almost blends in with the walls and floor of the room.
“You can let me go and?—”
“Silence.” She waves a hand in the air, her eyes as hard as granite. “Get naked. Now.”
I study her carefully, taking in the tense set of her shoulders and the way her fingers inch toward the holster at her side.
She has a weapon. Probably multiple.
I don’t.
There’s no way I can take her out. And who the hell knows who’s waiting outside the door?
I suppose I have to play along—for now.
Wordlessly, I begin to remove the fancy attire I donned as Teddie. When I reach my bodysuit, a burst of self-consciousness and shame arrows through me, but I quickly shove the emotions aside.
I may be a prisoner, but I refuse to cower.
Gritting my teeth, I strip down entirely—leaving my hate-filled gaze trained on the soldier—and then toss the dress over my head. It hangs limply on my body, but I don’t make a move to straighten or tighten it.
Fuck her.
Fuck them.
The soldier continues to stare at me, her expression impassive, before she nods once, seemingly satisfied.
She turns to open the door with a brisk, “Come on.”
I move to take a step, but two guards materialize seemingly out of nowhere and stand on either side of me, each taking an arm.
Apparently they don’t trust me to walk on my own.
Noted.
