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114
At the sound of footsteps, I spring into position.
With my back against the wall, I crouch low in the shadows, head bent in submission, hands pressed together as though praying for redemption.
Whoever it is, they’re in for a surprise.
I am not the broken girl they’re expecting to find.
In my hand I grip three bits of steel I’ve fastened together and sharpened into a weapon I have every intention of using.
“She still in there?” a gruff male voice calls.
“All yours if you want her,” another one replies.
“Hope you didn’t start without me.” The first voice cracks. “But you can have her when I’m done. If there’s anything left, that is.” He laughs, a horrible guttural sound that only strengthens my determination to do whatever necessary to find my way out of this hell.
Only problem is, I have no idea where to go once I escape.
The footsteps pause just outside my door.
A face peers through the iron bars.
It’s a man I don’t recognize, though the fine cut of his clothes leaves me to wonder if maybe he’s here to release me. But when I note the salacious leer on his face, I realize he’s interested only in what he can take.
A terrible screech of metal grating on metal echoes through the space, and I press the weapon tighter between my palms.
The door creaks open—
I shift my weight from my heels to my toes.
The man enters—
I leap into the air, weapon at the ready.
“Que diab—” Before he can finish, the jagged tip is pressed flush to his neck.
“Here’s what you’re going to do.” I maneuver the sharpest part of my hastily crafted blade until it pierces his flesh, leaving no doubt I am not to be messed with. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to give me that key, then you’re going to stay locked inside like an obedient prisoner. And when you’re asked what happened, you’re going to say you were so drunk that you have no idea how you got here, but you never saw me.Comprenez-vous?”
It’s a good start, but a second later, he whirls around with such force, it throws me right off, sending me crashing into the wall as an explosion of pain shoots up my arm, the weapon falls from my fingers, and the man kicks it clear across the cell where I can no longer reach it.
I cower before him, my stomach lurching at the sight of his hateful gaze and lecherous grin as his hands busy themselves with unfastening his pants.
“There’s nowhere to run,” he says. “So you may as well try to enjoy it.”
I brace against the wall. My heart thrashing, my knees threatening to crumple beneath me, I use all my best French, hurl a string of profanities I learned from Oliver and Finn, but the man only laughs. And when he goes about dropping his breeches, my body freezes with terror as my mind reels with the realization of the horrifying fate that awaits me.
No. No! There’s no way—this cannot be happening. I’m dreaming, caught in a nightmare—I have to wake up, I have to—
With his pants bunched around his knees, I’m amazed at how he still manages to grab at me, spin me around, and smash me hard against the wall, as he grips either side of my waist.
The ease in which he approaches this violence tells me this is not the first time he’s committed such an act. But if I have anything to do with it, it will be his last.
A low grunt sounds from his throat as he grabs the hem of my gown and starts to lift it to my hips. Though he doesn’t get very far before a shot of adrenaline races through me, and I spring back to life, jamming my foot into his knee so hard, I hear a satisfying crack.
He howls in pain, arcs an arm toward my head. But with his pants dragging down to his ankles, he struggles for balance.
I steal the moment to duck out from under him and race for the weapon, only to have him reel on me and yank my skirts so hard, I’m pulled right off my feet and drop to the ground.
