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“Shit.” I clamber off the floatie and stride out of the pool, leaving wet footprints behind me as I jog through the hallways of the house. A woman can’t be alone in this place. I survived it, but Sunday won’t. She’s too delicate. Too kind. They didn’t break me, but they would break her.

And suddenly that terrifies me more than anything ever has.

A gasp and a strangled cry have me breaking into a run, and my blood chills at the sight of Michael holding Sunday by the throat.

“Michael!” I squeal, sprinting down the hall. He clocks me and smiles, dropping Sunday and letting me jump into his arms. “You’re here!”

“I am. How’s my girl?”

“Better now.” I kiss his nose, glancing down at a wide-eyed Sunday. She doesn’t look too hurt, but I don’t know why I care. “Does Felton know you’re back?”

“I just walked in. Do you want me all to yourself, my love?”

The words have my stomach roiling, but I can handle Michael. He might think he’s God’s gift, but he’s easily pleased.

“For ten minutes? Or twenty?” I suggest, but his attention is drawn back to Sunday. Panic trickles down my spine, cold and thick. “Ignore her, she’s Cage’s initiation. She’ll be dead by tomorrow.” A reassurance for him. A warning to her. I don’t know why I bother, though. I’ve helped girls escape before, as many as I could, but not from here. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Staying gets you killed by men, running means nature will get you instead. The thought of Sunday dying leaves something dislodged in my chest, and I find myself suddenly wanting to hug her. Maybe she reminds me of myself.

Maybe I just really don’t want another girl to die.

SATURDAY

PM

“What are you lingering around for, Cagey Boy?” I purr, stopping outside Felton’s office. Cage really is a god damn dream. Tall, broad, muscles upon muscles, and so damn handsome. The first time I saw him he was on his bike, and I almost melted into a puddle. He looks fucking delectable in leathers.

There’s also something about him I can’t quite place my finger on. I’ve tried to seduce him to get him to talk because I feel like he might be like me. Not like them. Felton all but confirmed that when he told me he suspected Cole was a cop, but that didn’t feel right to me. No, Cage is something else entirely.

I play with the buttons on his shirt. “Why don’t you speak to me, Cage?” I pout. “You could at least put your mouth to better use.” He ignores me, and I glance at the closed door.

Felton doesn’t make Cage wait. Felton loves Cage. He’s eager to please him, so this doesn’t make sense.

Unless Sunday is in there.

I practically shove him aside and open the door. It’s like I step back in time—Felton behind his desk, touching himself while asking me disturbing questions that I didn’t know how to answer. Rage pours through me, but I can’t take it out on the person I want to most.

Not yet.

“What the fuck is going on?” I scream, and the next few minutes are a blur. I lean into the Darcy that Felton loves, hating myself for hurting Sunday but knowing I’m protecting her from a bigger monster. When she’s finally gone, I almost fall to my knees.

I’m faced with the horrors of my life every day. I was never given the option to look away, and I never let myself bury my head in drugs or alcohol. I stared my monster in the face because if I turned my back to it, it would likely tear me to pieces.

But seeing another girl go through this …

“I’m sorry, Darcy, I—” Felton tries to take my face in his hands, but he’s dirty. Disgusting.

“I need a drink. Go get me a drink.” I say, striding over to Felton’s desk, and breathing through the overwhelming urge to break. “Get me a drink, Felton!” I scream, and he leaves quickly, the door clicking closed behind him. Steadying myself on the desk, I close my eyes. “Don’t break, Darcy. Don’t let them break you.” In my mind, I’m sixteen, curled up under a bed, tears on my face, in this house of fucking horrors. “Don’t break, Darcy bird. Don’t break.”

“Did you know you’re named after a bird, Darcy?”

I giggle and lick my ice cream, holding my dad’s hand as we walk through busy streets. “What kind of bird?”

“A Darcy bird, silly. They have the prettiest golden feathers and whenever you see one, something magical is about to happen.”

My breath catches in wonder. “Really?”

“Yep,” he smiles down at me, eyes warm. “Always look out for Darcy birds.”

My dad was my favorite person in the whole world. After Mom died, it was just the two of us, but he never made me feel anything other than special. He was my everything, and the only person who kept looking for me after I disappeared from a mall when I was fourteen.