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“Fuck you.”
I wrench my body against the thick arms that pin me to a broad chest. The guard behind me doesn’t loosen his grip though. If anything, he squeezes tighter, making me gasp for air.
“Tie her up again,” my mother says. “And make an example of her friend.”
The words apparently are a dismissal, and the guard shoves me along back to where I came from, kicking my ankles every time I drag my feet. When I make too much noise for his liking, his clammy hand smothers my nose and mouth, and I can hardly breathe.
Another guard picks Lucy up and carries her struggling form into the center of the warehouse, where the light is brighter. He throws her down, and I wince as she skids across the hard, unforgiving cement.
Dammit. This is my fucking fault. I shouldn’t have made her try to escape with me. I should’ve—
What?
Let her stay here to be sold?
Given up hope? Stopped fighting?
Tears well in my eyes as the man who dropped Lucy leans down and delivers a hard punch to her face. She screams as her head whips to the side, her entire body following the motion. He grabs her roughly by the arm, lifting her up to hit her again, and I fight as hard as I can against the man who’s still holding me.
My elbow manages to dig into his side, and when he flinches, I bend my knee and bring my heel up in an awkward kick aimed at his balls. I don’t hit much, but I must at least get close enough to something sensitive that he grunts and doubles over. I throw my head back and hear a satisfying crunch as pain explodes through my skull.
Fuck, that hurts.
It hurts him more though.
He drops me with a loud curse, and the man who’s attacking Lucy stops to look over.
“Motherfucker!” My captor holds a hand to his face as blood pours from his nostrils. “You broke my nose, you bitch!”
He grabs for me, and I duck out of the way, adrenaline spiking in my veins as I realize he’s about to kill me. I don’t even think Camilla will mind.
I pivot on the balls of my feet, but before I can run, he grabs my hair at the roots, yanking me back by my head.
“You fucking bi—”
His words are cut off by a loud pop, and a second later, his hand goes slack on my hair. He falls sideways, nearly dragging me down with him as his fingers tangle with my locks.
Another loud pop, pop, pop fills the air, and then the men on the warehouse floor are shouting, fear and anger in their voices.
“Grace!”
The bellowed word cuts above the din of the chaos around me, and my heart seizes in my chest.
Hale.
His cry is followed by other shouts, other men calling my name, and my limbs go numb with relief and shock.
My men.
They found me.
They came for me. Somehow, they came for me.
The guards on the warehouse floor are firing back now, and I can’t tell where Hale and the others are in the dimly lit space. The place is utter bedlam, with men racing for cover and firing at their attackers.
Then a new sound reaches my ears. A new voice.
I don’t recognize this one as well as I did the others, but I understand the word he shouts just fine.
