My surprised gasp startles Parker, and she sits up with a jerk. “Shit. I’m tired. AJ went to get you queso. Store bought, but it’ll still be better than the food in this place.”
I grin and sign. “Love q-u-e-s-o.”
She laughs, the sound soft, almost gentle. But after a glance at her phone, her head tilts, and her muscles stiffen.
“AJ’s on with Connor. Might be a couple of minutes,” she says, too quickly.
Shit. Something’s wrong. I reach for her hand, and she squeezes my fingers.
“Hey. Don’t worry. Marvin’s right outside, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
My heart stutters. No. Not him. I shake my head, try to force the words out. “Marvin… Bad.” But all that escapes is a mess of broken sounds.
Frustrated, I shove the sketchbook at her, then jab the page.
Parker frowns. “Lanterns?”
Why can’t she understand? Dammit. She’s looking at the wrong image.
I lean over, almost losing my balance as the vertigo pitches the whole room sideways, but manage to flip to the drawing of the buckle.
Her eyes widen. “Wait?—”
The door opens, and Marvin ambles in, all calm, an easy smile on his face. “AJ’ll be back soon. Just figured I’d come check on the two of you. See if you needed anythin’.”
My breath saws in and out of my throat, the terror hitting so hard, the edges of my vision dim.
Parker leaps out of her chair, but she’s a second too late. The butt of Marvin’s gun whips across the back of her skull, and she crumples to the floor with a strangled moan.
“Nnnnnn!” I try to haul myself out of bed, but the world tilts, and I land next to Parker in a heap.
I blink up at Marvin with tears in my eyes. He pulls open the door. “All clear.”
Two men dressed in blue scrubs rush in with a gurney. I kick at them, but they grab me, slam me down, and tighten straps over my chest, my arms, my thighs, and my ankles. One of them pulls a syringe from his pocket.
I open my mouth to scream, but the other wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. Hard. The needle stings my arm. I buck and thrash, my body desperate for air. But within seconds, a dull warmth spreads through me. My arms and legs are so heavy. I barely feel the IV ripped from the back of my hand.
“Take her too,” Marvin orders, jerking his thumb at Parker’s limp body.
No. Not Parker!
The taller of the two men grabs the wheelchair in the corner of the room, hauls Parker up by one arm, and dumps her into the chair. Zip ties tighten around her wrists before he throws a blanket over her from chest to toes.
Marvin yanks my sketchbook from the floor, and rips the last page free. “Throw this drivel away. Somewhere no one can find it.”
The ceiling swims above me, the drug turning the world soft and shimmery.
Elevator. We’re going up. Oh, God.
Cold night air crashes over me as a door slams open. The inky black sky is alight with stars. Rotors thump overhead, deafening, rattling my bones.
Parker stirs, coming awake with a feral scream. She lunges for me, but one of the men in scrubs punches her in the face, then throws her onto the deck of the helicopter.
I’m fading. Darkness closes in. The gurney jolts, the straps biting tighter each time.
“Careful with her, Brother Vincent,” one of the nurses mutters, shifting his grip.
“Why? Prophet just needs her alive for the ceremony tomorrow. It don’t matter if her brain’s hopelessly scrambled.”
