Brody Farrell, Nolan’s oldest son, was there that night too, except I had been the one to piss him off by rejecting his advances.
So, there’s really no telling what they could want, but it’s definitely not to sit down to have a nice talk over a cup of tea.
I slowly back up towards the sedan and climb in the passenger’s seat. I stare at Marco’s slumped form and cry as I reach for the gun in his hand. I have to pry it out of his cold, dead fingers, but I manage to get it.
I have no idea how many bullets are in it or even really how to use a gun, but I’m determined not to let them take me or kill me without a fight.
A few of the men begin to come towards me, but I step out of the car and point the gun at them. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!” I scream, my voice high-pitched and filled with terror. My hands tremble as I desperately try to hold the gun steady but fail miserably.
“Careful, little girl. Do you even know how to use that thing?” one man asks as he keeps walking towards me.
This guy must have a death wish!
“Stop!” I demand, but he pays no heed to my warning.
He keeps getting closer and closer until I can see the color of his eyes –hazel.
“Now why don’t you give me that gun before you hurt yourself?” he asks, holding out his hand.
My finger rests on the trigger as I tremble. “S-stay away from m-me!”
The guy takes one more step forward, and suddenly the gun goes off. I gasp as the man’s hand in front of me explodes into a bloody, gruesome mess of exposed tissue and bone where his fingers used to be.
He screams in pain and pulls back his arm to cradle his messed-up hand against his chest. “Feck, the bitch shot me!” he shouts.
I’m so in shock at what I’ve done that I don’t even hear the men come up from behind me until it’s too late. I swing around to shoot at them too; but when I pull the trigger, nothing happens. The gun is out of bullets.
And suddenly, there are too many of them to fight off as they grab me and drag me backwards to the black SUV. “Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, clawing, kicking, biting and fighting as much as I possibly can.
But my efforts prove futile as they wrestle me to the SUV and throw me in the back like a ragdoll where I’m gagged, blindfolded and handcuffed within seconds.
I continue to struggle until I’m pinned down and then abruptly feel a pinch in the back of my neck.
Whatever they injected me with feels like fire running through my veins, instantly numbing me until I fall into a quiet, dark pit of nothingness.
CHAPTER 7
VICTORIA
I COME TO slowly, my consciousness gradually clawing its way through the dense fog in my brain. I stare around the small, concrete room as it comes into focus and try to make sense of where I might be. The room is no bigger than five by five with a drain in the middle of the floor, a thin blanket that I’m currently lying on and a rusty, metal bucket in the corner.
The door to the room is made of steel and reinforced with a large bar across the center, which I’m assuming can only be unlocked from the outside since I don’t see a keyhole or any way to lift the bar from the inside.
My body is so sore that I groan out loud in pain when I sit up from my prone position, and I’m so cold that my teeth are chattering uncontrollably.
I’m still in the dress I was wearing when I was kidnapped, but my coat, shoes and stockings are missing. I carefully lift the hem of my dress and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see my panties are still there and intact.
At least they didn’t violate me while I was out of it, but I have no idea what they have planned for me here in this concrete prison. They might rape me…orworse.
Whatever they are planning to do, I’m about to find out, because I hear some movement on the other side of the door, and then the heavy bar is sliding to the right, effectively unlocking it.
The door swings open, and I’m greeted by a large red-haired man with a long, ruddy beard. He doesn’t give me an option of getting up. He simply comes over and grabs me, hauling me up by my arm, his grip so tight there’s no doubt I’ll be left with bruises on my skin. He half walks, half drags me out of the room.
I’m surprised to see I’m in some sort of underground bunker. There are no windows, and concrete makes up the concave ceiling, floor and walls as we walk down a small hall where there are several other rooms just like the one I was in. They are all full of canned goods, equipment and supplies, however, with the giant, steel doors standing open.
Once the man leads me past the rooms and into the wide, open space, I realize how much trouble I’m in. Nolan Farrell stands there with several of his men. There are tools and what can only be described as torture devices scattered over a long, metal table by the stairs that lead to the outside world. There’s a big, galvanized tub in the center of the room, and a camera set up in the corner with a small, metal stool in front of it.
I’m forced to sit on the stool, the metal practically burning through my skin from the coldness of it. My teeth continue to chatter as Nolan comes up from behind me. “Say hi to the camera, Victoria.”
