Page 9 of Ash Storm

I hope it hurts for a long time.

Beside her, Chloe whimpered, shrinking further back against the stone, as if she could push her slim body through the wall.

The second man, Reka hadn’t seen before. He was younger and slighter than Thick Mustache, but the way he was smirking made her think he was no less dangerous. In his hand, he carried a small clipboard.

He must be the asshole who hit me.

She didn’t think she had a concussion, but the side of her face still hurt from the blow, and she could feel a tender spot against her temple.

The two men stood there for a long time, inspecting them like one might an animal in the zoo. Reka kept her eyes down so she wouldn’t have to see that hungry, covetous expression on their faces.

Reka kept very still, but promised herself, if they came inside their cell, she would fight. She would fight them both, because she’d rather die fighting that live through whatever they’d planned for her and Chloe.

They didn’t come in, however, nor did they say a single word. Eventually, the younger man—let’s call him Junior—pulled out a half-chewed pencil and noted something down on his clipboard. Thick Mustache waited patiently for him to finish.

Eventually, still in complete silence, the pair walked off the way they’d originally come. This time, it took a long time for their footsteps to die down.

And if she’d been scared before, somehow, the matter-of-fact inspection made everything worse, because it made her think they’d not only done this before, but that they did this on a regular basis.

This is their job.