I wrapped a hand around the weapon tucked into my jeans.
Saint nudged me, shaking his head, mouthing, “Not yet.”
“What are we waiting for?”
He pointed at the sky, clear and blue, as if it explained everything.
Then I heard it, the hum of an approaching helicopter, distorting the air, shaking the earth. If I hadn’t been knee-deep in rank ditchwater, I’d have thought it was going to land on my head.
“Get down.” Saint yanked on my arm, sinking us deeper into the mud. “The wind.”
As he spoke, a strong gust blasted the undergrowth hiding us. Sunlight hit my face and I crouched lower, cringing against the noise. “You think they saw us?”
Saint grunted. Then he reared upright again, still holding my arm, and shoved me forward. “Run.”
I ran, staggering out of the ditch and sprinting towards the kennel building. Behind me, I heard nothing but Saint’s boots and the whir of the chopper. In my head, nothing but the deafening pound of my pulse as I charged on, kicking the first stall open.
Empty.
And the next and the next, and the next.
He’s not here.The possibility that Mateo was already dead tripped me up, and Saint surged past me, booting open the penultimate stall in the block.
The door hit the wall and Saint stopped short, arm flying to his mouth. Two steps behind, I crashed into him. Then the smell hit me a million times harder, the air so thick with death that I tasted it on my tongue, and I couldn’t stop the wretch that burst free.
I stumbled forward.
Saint caught me. “It’s not him.”
I knew that. The crumpled body on the ground was a bundle of bones and rot. But the masochist in me pushed on, craving the worst kind of closure.
Shirt over my mouth, I slipped into the stall and crouched by the heap on the ground. I took a closer look. It wasn’t Mateo, but my relief was short-lived. As I reared back from the decomposed face, loud footsteps filled the kennel block.
We were no longer alone.
27
MATEO
Bang!
I jumped awake, chin jerking from my bloodied chest, agony flaring in my broken wrist, thick metal cuffs digging into my flesh.
Bang!
The door to my cell burst open. Muscle I’d already named Thing One and Thing Two piled in and detached me from the fucking meat hook in the ceiling.
I flopped down like a rag doll, making the fuckers carry me, and my feet didn’t touch the ground as they bundled me out of whatever hell hole they were keeping me in between amateur torture sessions.
Daylight hit me. I cringed, narrowing my eyes to slits, all the while taking stock of my surroundings. As the hours had passed, it had grown harder to remember, faculties overtaken by more pressing things like staying awake. Stayingalive. But I tried. If I found a chance to escape, I needed the lay of the fucking land beyond the shit pit they’d dumped me in and the yard they dragged me to every time they wanted a little fun.
Every hour, on the hour. I didn’t know the actual time, but that’s what it felt like. Doors banging, dickheads huffing and puffing as they manhandled me around.
Destination? A bloodstained barn, walls lined with tarp. That it wasn’t all my blood twisted me up inside. I was no angel. I wasn’t above fucking people up for fun, but this shit was hardcore. And they hadn’t blindfolded me. Or masked their faces. Meaning they had no intention of letting me live.
I was too tired for that to scare me. Literally, my brain was wet sand. Three things kept it in motion: Liliana, Embry, andpain.
So much fucking pain.
