What the fuck had my sister done this time? “What happened to your best friend?” I asked.
“The same thing that’ll happen to you,” the boxer brief man whispered hoarsely.
“Hazel disappeared,” I said, trying to regain my standing in the situation. “I’ve got to find her—”
“And we’d love to find her too,” the top hat man said. “Where is she?”
“You’re one of his, aren’t you?” the black-dressed woman asked.
“Who?” I asked.
“We know one of Eric’s pets when we see one.”
“Pathetic little things.”
They leaned in closer. The longer the conversation went on, the more suffocating it became. Every accusation they made, every question, drowning me deeper into the nightmare of not knowing where Hazel was.
“I swear I don’t know—”
“Heather,” a strong, male voice called, the word,my name, deep and gravely on his tongue. All of us turned towards that voice.
A man with dark, almost black hair, long enough to run my fingers through it, and dark brown eyes, a strong nose, a thin white scar running across one side of his face. He was in a full suit, pressed, tailored to his built frame. I had never seen him before. But he knew my name.
I would remember a man like that.
“You know Zaid?” the broad collar woman asked. Her jaw was slack.
He gestured for me to follow him, and when I didn’t move, he rushed towards me and dug his fingers into my shoulder. He pulled me into a corner of the lounge, down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before. Soon, we were alone in a shadowed room, with nothing but a set of shackles chained to the wall.
