Rogue. Gabe. Ace. Devlin.
My whimper sounds like a gunshot in the silence. I want to see where I am, but the light is too bright and I close my eyes, frustrated.
It suddenly shuts off and I open them a crack, trying to push past the white blotches flickering across my vision.
The clomping of heavy boots sounds from a distance, moving closer. I pull again at my wrists, but the burn tells me they’re not going to give way.
A hand lands on my leg, tracing upwards. Horror fills me as I realize they can see everything, my legs strapped open. I make a noise, a sound of protest, and the hand stops.
“Please,” I whisper. A tear slips from my eye.
“Please, what, 792?” Jason’s nasally sound echoes through the room, and I sob. Anyone but him.
“Let me go,” I plead. “I haven’t done anything wrong. The compound—,”
“Oh, you’re not at the compound, 792.” His voice is gleeful.
Shock laces through me. If I’m not at the compound, where am I? I wrestle more frantically with my restraints, yanking at them desperately.
“Stop,” Jason barks, and I freeze.
He puts his hand back on my leg and runs it up my body. Turning my head to the side, I try to ignore him.
He pinches my nipple hard, and I cry out.
“Oh, 792.” His face appears into view, yellowed teeth breathing sour breath into my face. I try to move back as much as I can and he grabs my chin roughly, nails digging in.
“This is your fault,” he hisses. My brows crinkle in confusion.
“I don’t understand.”
“Did I say you could fucking speak?” he bellows. Flecks of spit land on my face as I flinch.
Pressing my lips together, I watch him. His tuxedo is wrinkled and unkempt, his hair greasy. He looks unhinged. Spinning, he jabs his finger at me.
“I lost my job because of you, bitch,” he seethes. “My father cut me off. Says I embarrassed him.”
I didn’t know the director fired him. I feel a small twinge of pleasure at the thought, and my lips twitch. It’s no more than the fucker deserves.
The slap catches me by surprise, my head whipping to the side as my lip splits. Woozily, I roll my head to stare back at Jason.
“Now look what you made me do,” he mutters. He strolls down to the edge of the table and adjusts something. With a stab of horror, I realize that it’s a camera.
“I have to thank you, though,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just split the side of my face apart. “Your little display last night worked perfectly, although I had to move up my plan somewhat.”
I stay silent, burning to ask what he means.
He adjusts the camera so it’s pointing directly at me.
“The show will start soon,” he says with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to make me a rich man, 792.”
My heart hammers in my chest as my fear spikes.
He turns away and pushes a small trolley up towards me. Dread twists in my gut as I see the needle laid out.
No.
I start to twist frenziedly, tugging my restraints furiously. I know what that needle is.
