The hair on the back of her neck stood as she clutched the handle of the dagger at her belt, shaking her head furiously. No, she was definitely not going out there. That was how idiots ended up kidnapped and killed, and she rather enjoyed being alive.
She’d made the decision to ignore what lurked in the shadows when something caught her eye. The silhouette of a man in the trees, with a black cloak waving in the wind behind him. Something about him seemed familiar…
Isla blinked, and the man was gone. She frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. She must be exhausted. As she turned toward the inn, she came face to face with small, beady eyes and a squashed nose. The stranger before her bared his teeth.
Isla screamed.
A rough hand gripped her wrist and yanked. Before she could pull free, a cloth clamped over her nose and mouth.
Frantically, she kicked out and connected with something solid, followed by a loud grunt. She pulled the knife from her belt with her free arm and aimed at her attacker, but more hands grabbed her from behind and forced the weapon from her grip. Her focus waned, and she couldn’t breathe as she struggled to blink away the blackness at the edges of her vision. Her throat was raw from trying to scream, though nothing more than a hoarse whisper came out.
The last thing she heard was a gravelly voice laughing in her ear as the man said, “You’re gonna pay for what you did.”
Part Two
Quake
Chapter Twelve
Isla
Islawassocold.The damp, slimy rock against her cheek made her shiver and the stone digging into her side felt like ice, even through her sweater. Rope binding her wrists and ankles scratched her raw skin every time she moved. She didn’t know how long she had been lying in this position, but her shoulders ached from taking the brunt of her weight.
It all came rushing back in a dizzying wave. The nighttime stroll. The figure in the woods. Struggling against her attackers. Then, nothing.
Where was she?
A faint glow emanated from her right, granting her a limited look at her surroundings. A high, rounded ceiling and stone floor extended far to the left. To the right, where the glow and shadows lurked, was a curve in the tunnel. It took a minute of readjusting and trying to balance, but she was eventually able to stand. Shuffling her feet, she managed to move a few steps before losing her footing and slamming back into the stone, a groan breaking free from her throat. At least her wrists were bound in front of her and not behind, so she could catch herself before her face hit the hard floor.
Isla froze at an echo from around the corner. She made out two sets of footsteps, and as they drew nearer, a conversation drifted to her.
“...reckless and stupid. Why did you bring her here?”
“That tramp took down half the Westin crew. What’d you expect me to do? Someone has to pay,” a raspy second voice responded. The footsteps grew closer.
“That’s not your call to make. How did you even know it was her?”
“Sawyer saw it all from the trees. Came running back with his tail between his legs and led us right to ‘er.”
“You wasted time tracking her down like an idiot. You should have been searching.”
“Ahh, piss off. She killed my men. I don’t give a rat’s—” There was a resounding smack, and the footsteps stopped just around the curve.
“You do what you're told, or I wring your neck. We have a job to do. Got it?”
“Well then, what’re you gonna do with the girl?” the second man said after a long pause.
The first one sighed. “I have to clean up your mess. Again. But maybe the men can have some fun.”
Isla’s blood turned to ice. She knew exactly what kind offunhe meant, and she would not let a single filthy finger touch her.
The footsteps picked up again and came around the corner. The taller of the two carried a lantern that cast an ominous shadow over their faces. This man had simple but clean clothing, hair long enough to cover his ears, and slight scruff on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were hard, cold, and calculating.
His partner was much shorter and wore a tunic that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. His long, matted, red hair hung down his back and a matching crimson beard was tangled into knots. Unlike the first man, his eyes were reedy and vile, and they lit up with excited hatred when he saw her.
Isla swallowed. She wanted to put on a brave face, but couldn’t stop her entire body from shaking with cold and fear. She backed further into the stone wall, the rough edges digging into her skin.
“Hmm. She’s scared. Just how I like ‘em.” The shorter man smacked his lips.
