“I know.”
The door banged open and ricocheted off the wall. Three men came down. The third wore hard-heeled boots that hit the notes of the stairs wrong, like he’d never learned the rhythm. A flashlight carved a wide, lazy arc. The beam found us and stuck.
“Still breathing?” one asked, too casual.
A cage rattled. Someone whimpered.
He laughed. “Good. Means the product’s fresh.”
Boots shifted closer. The light cut my face, paused, slid on.
“Pretty ones always cry the loudest,” another said.
“You volunteering to test that theory?” the first asked, amusement thin as wire.
“Not tonight.”
The beam drifted, skimmed Sunshine’s cage, then landed on ours. It caught me, tipped to Ariel. My whole body went tight.
“Well, isn’t she a pretty thing,” the first sneered.
“She was marked when she was taken,” the cold one said. “No testing that product.”
“Shame,” the first chuckled. “Looks like she’d be fun to test.”
Ariel stayed quiet. I felt the shake anyway through the seam.
“What about the dude?” the first said, jerking his chin at me.
“We’ll find a use for him,” the cold one replied. “I’m sure he’d be a challenge someone’ll pay for.”
Upstairs, a truck door slammed hard enough to rattle dust from the rafters. A voice shouted through the floorboards, sharp, pissed, that edge men get when schedules slip. Another door banged.
“Boss is early,” hard heel said.
“Yeah, and he’s not in a waiting mood.” Keys jangled. The flashlight snapped off. Dark again.
“Wrap it,” the cold one ordered.
They moved fast, metal on metal, a gate checked, a latch slammed. Footsteps climbed. The door moaned and shut. Silence took a breath and closed over us again.
Ariel’s mouth didn’t reach my collarbone; it pressed to the wire where my shirt brushed it. “Marked?”
“I think it means they’re saving you for someone,” I said. She let out a small sound and my hand tightened over her fingers through steel. “I won’t let that happen, Ariel. I’ll get us out before anyone lays a hand on you.”
She nodded. If she cried, she did it without sound this time. The tears thinned on the mesh and cooled my skin where the wire touched my throat. My jacket creaked when I shifted to cover more of the seam with my body.
I replayed their voices instead of the scrape of a clipboard. Still breathing? Means the product’s fresh. Pretty ones alwayscry the loudest. She was marked, no testing that product. Shuffle a few out, he gets his own box. No names. No roll call. Just boxes, columns, quantities said out loud like we’re inventory. Sunshine had been returned. The other girl hadn’t. I had a feeling when they dumped us here what this was; now I was sure, and fear cut clean through my gut.
“Ariel,” I said.
“Mm.”
“We’re not prisoners.”
She tensed. “Then what are we?”
The word fit in my mouth like metal. I let it sit there before I gave it to her. The truth is a weapon. You hand it over steady.
