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I shake my head slowly. “No, and why should I care right now?”
“The story is in the booklet I gave you. Have you not finished it?” His head tilts to the side, and I trace the fine lines of his neck tattoo before finding his eyes again.
“No. I didn’t. Just like I didn’t get to learn more about Malyk’s story, or Dion’s!”
When the words leave my mouth, Sparrow’s eyes fly over my shoulder and land on the cell.
“Hmmm.”
“Why did you use me?”
“What’s the first thing you remember about the first time you ever met us three?”
“Funny you ask that.” I scan his features, noticing the moment they all shift uncomfortably beneath my stare. I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high. “I remember it all.”
I remembered nothing. I remembered nothing past her shooting something into my neck and my lights going out. I remembered nothing—
Except I remembered everything, and they were going to pay.
They were going to pay for everything they ever fucking put me through…I would make them hurt. I’d make them feel like they had me right where they wanted me. Did they know I remembered everything from the past week? Them stripping me naked.
Malyk cutting me.
Dion’s lips between my thighs.
Sparrow’s praise when I’d do what he wanted.
Whatever drug they gave me didn’t do what they thought it would.
And now they would pay. They would pay for it all.
I reached for my phone first, ignoring the stabbing pain in my muscles. Fatigue wasn’t a strong enough word. I found the number instantly, knowing what was coming.
“I thought this day would never come.”
I thought his voice would be different. Older. Scarier. We all knew he was, but no one had ever lived to say they’d met him.
“She lied to me. She has been working with them all along.”
“Who, Blaire? Who has?”
“You know who!” I snapped, squeezing my eyes closed. Please don’t make me say her name.
“Your mother. I see. Have they put you through the ritual?”
“No,” I answered, swiping the tears from my eyes. “No, they haven’t. They didn’t get that far. For whatever reason, they pulled back.”
He was silent on the other end.
“Dad?”
“I am still here.” Movement rustled in the background, and I changed ears, afraid I wouldn’t hear his next words. “I may know why they didn’t. I need you to follow their lead until you next hear from me, Shiloh. Whatever they want you to do, do it. What your mother asks you to do, do it. They think they’re ahead of you. Let them think that.”
Fear crashed against my chest. “They’ll kill me.”
“They won’t.”
“How do you know?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the foreign door.
“Because the reason why you’re not dead right now or been put through the ritual is because they know you’re my daughter, and trust me when I say, Shiloh St. Claire, you are in a great position.”
The line went dead.
My muscles ache. I know I have to open my eyes, but I can’t bring myself to move because the first thing I feel is the throbbing in my legs. The fatigue in my bones. It’s a poison that won’t leave. What happened last night? My eyes pop open and I squeeze the sheets that surround my body, groaning when I try to roll out of bed, reaching aimlessly for something. Anything. Hopefully a glass of water to wash down the taste of whatever it is that’s sticking to the back of my throat. My hand collides with a hard object before a loud smash sounds, and I quickly jump. Wheremybed is pushed against a wall, leaving no space for a bedside table, I know instantly that this isn’t my room.
Pressing my palms into my eyes, I scrub the sleep away and force them to part. The room is a blur, but I try to blink through it to take in my surroundings.
Oh God…
