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“I will.” She leaned closer and whispered. “Remember what I said. They’re coming for me. For us. Hold on to that. I promise we will be free.”
“No…” Kelsie wailed. Her breathing changed to a short, choppy fight for air.
“Enough of this bullshit. Move.” A large hand grabbed the back of her shirt and shoved her away from Kelsie. She fell forward, landing on hands and knees as she struggled to breathe.
The idea of leaving Kelsie alone in this state was a knife to the gut, but she had no choice. Kelsie might not survive another assault, or at least her psyche couldn’t, and Brenna couldn’t live with herself if she allowed that to happen.
“All right! I’m going. Get your fucking hands off me,” she said, wrenching away as he reached for her again with far more confidence than she felt inside. She climbed to her feet and started forward on unsteady legs. She had no doubt that the MC would come for her, but who knew what state she’d be in when they finally found her?
Would she be like Kelsie, traumatized and broken? Would Lock be able to glue the pieces of her back together?
Would he even want to? And could she let him if he did want her?
The man had been through enough in the last year. Latching onto him after all this didn’t seem fair.
The guard shoved her to the left as she exited the room. “I said get your hands off me.”
Behind her, he laughed so loud it drowned out the sound of Kelsie’s sobs. “Let’s see how long that sass lasts. Actually, keep it. It’ll be more fun for our customers if you’re spitting and hissing like a little pussy cat. Meow.” He laughed again. “They love you feisty ones. So much fun to subdue.”
His words had her steps faltering, but she recovered quickly. She swallowed a lump of fear lodged in her throat.
They were words, just words meant to scare her.
And they did their job damn well.
“Keep walking.” He nudged her again.
This time, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from mouthing off.
“End of the hall. Door on the left.”
Each step took her closer to hell. She might as well have been walking a plank, watching the distance to her doom shorten. A bottomless ocean of churning dark water might not await her, but she was screwed, nonetheless.
They reached the end of the hallway way too fast. Bolt opened another heavy door.
“Shower. Dry. Change. You have fifteen minutes. Leave the hair wet. Makes you look… younger.” He smirked, and her blood ran cold.
Younger?
She must have hesitated too long because the next thing she knew, he pushed her into the room with all his strength. Brenna cried out as she staggered forward. Her shoe caught a crack, and she went down hard, wincing as her palms met the hard floor.
Bolt laughed and shut the door.
Fifteen minutes wasn’t much, but she gave herself one of those minutes to breathe and take in her surroundings. The room wasn’t too different from where she and Kelsie were being held. A cave-like structure, only this one had a showerhead coming from the wall straight ahead and a drain in the center of the floor. Generic bottles of what she assumed were shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sat in a small puddle. To her right, a wooden bench held a thin towel and clothing. A cracked mirror hung from the wall above the bench.
“Fifteen fucking minutes. Turn on the water,” Bolt shouted. “Unless you want a hand?”
That was all the motivation she needed. “No. I got it.”
She turned on the water and backed away from the spray. What were the chances this place had warm water instead of an icy shower? Countless hours of sitting on the floor had her feeling grimy and smelly. Cold water would still get her clean.
Sure enough, as she stuck her hand in the stream, nothing but icy drops hit her hand.
After a glance toward the flimsy door, she quickly undressed. Even though she knew her privacy and body were about to be violated, she still couldn’t stand the idea of Bolt watching her shower. At least give her a few more minutes of dignity before they stole everything from her.
Shivers racked her the instant she stepped under the frigid spray. Few things sucked more than a cold shower, though she had a feeling it would end up being the best part of her day when all was said and done. Maybe the discomfort was for the best. If she’d stepped into a warm, comforting cascade of water, she would likely break down sobbing in a hysterical heap on the floor. As it was, she rushed through cleaning herself with efficient movements to end the torment.
After the world’s fastest cleanup, she killed the water and grabbed the towel. It didn’t amount to much more than a large hand towel and did a terrible job drying her off. Shivering with violent jerks, she grabbed the first piece of clothing from the pile only to drop it as though it were a slimy reptile.
