Great advice. There was only one problem: I couldn’t feel my legs.
Instead, I propped myself up and watched Birdie explode out of the van as soon as they opened the door. She took the two guards by surprise, then sprinted toward the closing gate in the back with Jemma hot on her heels.
Birdie made it through.
Jemma wasn’t as lucky. Two masked men grabbed her just shy of freedom.
She almost made it.
My heart beat heavy in my chest. And I tried again to get my damn legs to function. What exactly did they do to me? Was I paralyzed? Jemma didn’t have the same problem; at least she was able to struggle and kick as they dragged her back.
Our eyes met for a second before they pulled a hood over her head.
Fuck.
Oh my God, why couldn’t I be strong for once? Instead, I wasn’t useful at all.
I was dead weight as they grabbed me, hauled me out of the van.
I looked back, and Mira and Milli—one of the Raptor Security operatives—were still inside. Why did they only take us girls?
I looked around: more guards in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks.
I focused on the surroundings. They resembled a factory building that was either still under construction or had been abandoned during the process. The air was cold, breath-condensating cold. But it was still daylight, and they brought us here in a van, so we couldn’t be that far from La Dimora.
They marched—more like carried—me in a different direction than Jemma. I turned my head back to the van where they unloaded Mira.
Then they pulled a hood over my head. Shit. I couldn’t see a thing aside from my own feet being dragged over concrete floors.
I focused on the direction they were taking me. Two rights, then left. Everything sounded hollow, and the concrete floor was cold underneath my bare feet.
Wait, when exactly did I lose my shoes? But also, hallelujah, apparently my feet were coming back online. I wiggled my toes, moved my legs…they were definitely coming back online.
They carried me up a flight of concrete stairs. More concrete corridors. Finally, after a short stop and a strange hissing sound, they dragged me into a room with a pristine white floor that was much warmer, pulled the hood from my head, and shoved me inside.
My legs gave out, and I stumbled forward into the room—if you could call it that. The walls were a pearlescent, glossy white that seemed to be solid and alive at the same time. No windows, no visible corners, seams, or edges.
I turned around at the hissing sound and stared at the closing door. It sealed perfectly into the wall, leaving no trace of an entrance.
What kind of high-tech fuckery was this place?
I crawled back to the door. The smooth surface felt simultaneously cool and warm against my palm and was vibrating. My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to piece together what I knew so far.
We’d been in the car on our way to the private airstrip. There was an ambush. I’d fought as hard as I could and followed Birdie’s advice by zigzagging toward the tree line.
Jemma and I almost made it.
But in the end, it was all for nothing, and they’d caught us anyway.
Jemma had been hit with some kind of dart. I padded the back of my neck where I’d noticed the sting before it knocked me out. The area was still tender. How long was I out?
How long did it take us to get here, and what the hell was this room, and how did it have this kind of strange vibrating vibe going on? Was it an electromagnetic field? No, that didn’t make sense. Were they sound waves?
I looked up and around. The lighting came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Even the metal chair bolted to the floor gleamed white, its surface as frictionless as everything else.
Get your act together, and think logically.
This clinical, otherworldly space, together with the vibrating sound, were designed to disorient and confuse.
