Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Dragging the scratchy blanket over myself, I tried to block out the sound of silence. The way it highlighted every sigh. Every panic-drenched breath. Every whimper.
I dozed off, grateful to disappear from this hell.
Familiar nightmares twisted reality into terrible pieces as my mind tried to make sense of what I saw. Always the same hallway. The same voice calling to me from the darkness. “Don’t go down the hall.”
But I did. Just as I’d been ordered by our school teacher.
We assembled with the others. Those who, like us, had been selected to gather in the lunch room. Girls lined up in the back of the room. Dark circles beneath our eyes. Our clothes hanging off us like dolls. My hair in knots that would eventually take hours to comb through. We’d clung to each other, reassured we’d stay together.
All of us waited for the elegant visitor to pick one of the prettier girls. Like they always did. The plump middle-aged woman walked around scrutinizing each one of us. Finally, a nod from her to say she was done. She pointed at the one she wanted.
Me.
Stirring, the dream began to fade, but this time I was able to hold onto a thread of it. A memory wrapped in a nightmare.
Then a sinking feeling hit me when I remembered where I was.
In hell.
My sob echoed in the darkness.
I was still lying in a cell.
My stomach growled at the lack of food. When would Cassius come back?
A voice in the darkness broke through my thoughts. . .
“Anya, wake up.” A man called from the void.
The sound of metal keys echoed through the air.
Then I was blinded by a light.
I blinked into the brightness,raising my hand to protect my eyes, which had not yet adjusted to the shock of a flashlight sweeping around me and illuminating this small space. On the other side of the bars stood the man I’d almost hit with that chair.
“Hurry up,” he whispered.
A clank of keys.
“I’m going to get you out of here. Quick, before anyone wakes up.”
I was on my feet and moving fast toward the door. “What time is it?”
“Three.”
“In the morning?”
He slid a key in the lock, and it made a rusty scrape before he eased open my cell door. Grinding metal of the door opening. His gray suit was creased; he looked like he’d slept in his car.
“Why should I trust you?” I snapped.
He looked annoyed. “Do you have any choice?”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m just a friend.”
Hurrying through the cell door, I followed him, retracing my steps from where Cassius had led me down last night. The chill of the dungeons lifting as we made our way up a stone stairway. That memory of him telling me if the place flooded, it would be bad. Bastard. I had a revolving door of reasons to hate him.
But this, this could be my way out.
The stranger led me around corners and down hallways.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Shush.” He tapped at a security panel, giving a nod that it was done. “This is the right thing to do.”
“You’re getting me out of here, right?”
“Yes, we don’t have much time.”
Staying was insane but going with this man, equally as risky.
The cool warmth of the early morning hit us. He scurried toward a waiting sports car. It was a gamble going with him, but there was no choice. Not really. We climbed into the front seat, both of us shutting our respective doors quietly. Trembling fingers reaching for my seat belt.
“No.” He pointed at my feet. “Down. There’s a guard on the front gate.”
Shit.
“Are you taking me home?”
“Of course.” His frown deepened. “Don’t tell your dad where this place is.”
I heard a sudden deafening crash as the windshield shattered. Glass scattered over my head. I turned my face away and squeezed my eyes shut as I attempted to shield my head with my hands from the sprinkle of shards landing on me.
The man threw himself over me and reached for the door handle and flung it open. “Out. Get out!”
Shoving the door the rest of the way, I spilled out onto my knees, then sprang up, heading for the line of trees that was about fifty feet away. My heart pounded in my ears. Glancing back, I saw that man—my rescuer—running behind me.
“Go.” He gestured.
Another shot ran out.
He fell flat on his face and struggled to get up, his hands and face covered in mud.
I went back for him.
He frantically moved his arms. “No! Tell Glassman he let you go.”
Really, because that’s not what this looks like.
More bullets flew through the air. I ducked, making for cover. The same woods I’d viewed from the window. Mouth dry with thirst, I was panic-stricken. I considered raising my hands and surrendering, but adrenaline drove me on.
My hem snagged on foliage, stopping me.
I yanked at the material, and it ripped with a terrible rending sound. My legs were scratched by twigs as I hurried on between the towering oak trees. I lost a shoe. Went back for it and then changed my mind, kicking off the other. Barefoot, I sprinted into the denseness, ignoring the stabs of pain in my soles.