Each wheezing breath forces my back against the wood. Splinters dig into my spine. They feel like toothpicks—or two-by-fours—and for once, I’m grateful for the pain. It’s the only evidence I’m still alive.
“They promised it would be quick.”
Martín’s whispered words echo in the silence of the box.
Would François make me the same deal?
Can’t last much longer.
“P-please,” I call weakly. “Let…me out…”
So tired. So thirsty. My stomach twists into knots. My heart races, skips beats until I’m dizzy, then races again. Arrythmia is bad. Really bad.
“If I die in here…assholes, you’ll…be next. François…wants his…files back.”
Time has no meaning anymore, but I think only a few minutes pass before the lock snaps open, and light pours in.
“Fuck,” Theo mutters. “Her lips are blue. Get her out of there.”
I can’t feel the hands on my arms this time. Or the leg cramps. Or much at all. Only those damn splinters.
Back in the chair. Tied down. Heat setting my frozen body on fire. Blinking hard, I struggle to focus on the table half a dozen feet away. Didn’t see it last time. Scalpels. More needles. Syringes.
François picks up a length of rope, drawing it through his fingers. “Are you ready to tell me where we can find the files you stole?”
“Water…” I manage. My tongue barely works, and my lips are cracked and bloody.
“Not until you answer me.” The rope flies, hitting me across the chest. It stings, but I’m still half-numb. “Dose her again,” he snaps, and Theo picks up a syringe.
“No!” I sound like a dying frog, and the thought is so ridiculous, I want to laugh. Is this what it’s like to lose your mind? I drift on that thought until the sting of the needle brings me back. “Can’t…type if you drug me.”
“Stop, Theodore.” François’s order comes too late, and the cocktail is already speeding through my bloodstream. Maybe…if I can focus long enough…I can convince them to kill me.
“Sorry, boss,” Theo says.
François glares at him, but after a moment, shakes his head. “No matter. Bring her computer. Get Oliver, too.”
Robbie hustles out of the ring of hot lights, and François saunters over to me, the rope doubled over so he can slap it against his palm.
“Please. I n-need…water.” My gaze follows the rope. Up and down. Up and down. Each impact makes me flinch. I’m warming up now. My abused fingernails send sparks of pure agony racing through my fingers, and I don’t know how the hell I’m going to be able to type.
François gestures for Theo to bring one of the bottles, but I only get a single sip before it’s taken away. I strain against the ropes, a weak whimper escaping between my panting breaths as I try to follow it.
Footsteps. Another table slams down on the concrete floor, along with a chair. “Finally gave up, sis?” Oliver asks. “About damn time. Can’t believe you lasted this long on your own.”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
Ronan. Ididn’tforget his voice. The memory makes my eyes burn, but I’m too dehydrated to cry. I can almostfeelhim holding my hand as we talked to his friends.
Wren.
Her secure storage can log my location. Ronan will be looking for me. Assuming Oliver didn’t double back. And if he did…someone would have found his body by now. His boss would tell Wren. Wren would explain everything.
Maybe.
It’s such a long shot…but it’s the only one I have.
The laptop boots up, and François leans down so we’re face to face. “Tell your brother what to do, and maybe we won’t have to breakeverybone in your body before the end.”
