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“He likes young, skinny brunettes,” she whispers as if she’s talking more to herself than me. “I never hated my hair color more than I did the day I discovered that fact.”
Knowing this makes me believe she’s even eviler than I first realized. I’m blond and older than his preference, meaning she knew when she brought me to him as a gift that I would be rejected. Maybe her getting to make this kill is her way of controlling the narrative, her way of getting what she needs.
“Oh he’ll like that one,” she mutters. “Nice tits and a pretty smile. Too bad she’s with a friend.”
I’m drifting in and out of consciousness as she waits for the perfect victim to travel by. I can blame it on a million things, but I’m certain it’s fear that’s threatening to shut my entire body down.
“Help, help!” she screams, jolting me awake. “I think she’s hurt!”
I wait for the pain of the stab wound, but it doesn’t come. I lift my head as best I can, pleading with the approaching woman to run away, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t see this situation as anything other than it appears—one woman begging for help for another woman. Our innate sisterhood is making this girl a victim, and I’m helpless to stop it.
A bigger shadow covers all three of us before the college student can rip away the gag in my mouth.
The new girl screams when arms wrap around her waist.
“You stupid bitch, you didn’t stab her.”
I squirm, my movements barely moving me an inch when he reaches for the knife, but the college girl jerks in his arms, screaming for help.
“Take care of her,” he hisses at the woman as he covers the college girl’s mouth with his palm and carries her away.
The woman leans over me. I’m screaming again, begging for my life when she presses one finger to my lips.
“Tell them I was Karen Bishop.”
Instead of stabbing me like she was instructed, she grabs the knife and runs away.
I wiggle, cry, and scream for what seems like hours until my throat is raw from the effort. Eventually I give up, freezing and hopeless, choosing to lie there. Maybe getting stabbed would’ve been better. It definitely would’ve been quicker.
My body jostles, but I can’t even manage to open my damn eyes.
“They took her,” I repeat over and over and over, while the gag is still in my mouth and more than a hundred times after it’s removed.
No one listens. No one cares.
As my body grows numb once again, I can’t believe my bad luck. What are the chances that I’ll get abducted three fucking times in a row?
Chapter 9
Grinch
We’ve scoured every inch of highway and backroads between the east and west borders of Nebraska via aerial surveillance and haven’t found her. Groups from every county along the travel path have organized themselves and are searching for her on the ground, but it doesn’t look good.
We’re spread too thin and dependent on civilians to help.
A million things could’ve happened, but the most likely is that she succumbed to the weather and a wild animal carried her further into the woods. The thought of her life ending that way after she managed to escape from a man who bought her from a sex trafficker makes me sick to my stomach.
“Five minutes,” Kid says before leaving the conference room we’ve rented in the hotel we’re staying at.
We’re all sitting, facing a television, waiting for Lana’s funeral to start. It feels weird to be involved this way, but Kincaid assured all of us that Harley will be grateful that we’re able to participate at all.
The live feed was showing us everyone who entered as they sat, but it was just too much and we turned it off with the promise that Max would let us know when the actual service was going to begin.
When Kid turns the television back on, it’s even worse. Instead of watching from the back like the previous feed was, this time the feed is broadcasting from right up front, giving us a clear view of Lana’s closed casket and the officiant. Knowing why the casket is closed makes my chest squeeze.
This is difficult for me, my throat clogging when I hear a baby cry, just imagining it being little Aria. I can’t imagine how Harley is surviving today.
The officiant, a man brought in from Texas, speaks, making it clear he’s not just here because he’s been hired. The man chokes up several times when speaking of her. I don’t doubt a single thing he says when he speaks of her kindness and dedication to others. We all witnessed it in the short weeks we had with her after she arrived.
“I fucking hate this,” Legend hisses, his leg bouncing up and down. “I should be there with her.”
