"Don't make this hard, girl. Come with us nice and easy. Nobodygets hurt."
"Get out!" I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and held it in front of me. "I'm not going anywhere!"
"Put that piece of shit down." He took another step, patience gone from his eyes. "You can walk out, or we can carry you out. Either way, same result."
I screamed, dodged sideways from the first man's hand, and swung the lamp at his shoulder. He shifted, the lamp hit the ground and shattered, darkness swallowing half the room. I lunged for the door, but he caught my wrist.
I wrenched free, knee slamming into something hard, pain shooting through my leg. But I shook him off. I hit the stairs, stumbling, practically crawling up on hands and knees until I reached the first floor.
The living room light was on.
Martha stood by the front door in her bathrobe, hair down, one hand on the frame. No fear on her face. No panic. She just stood there. An observer.
"Martha! Someone broke in! We have to go!" I ran toward her, reaching out.
Martha turned her head, looked at me, gave a cold laugh, and slowly closed the front door.
Then she turned to the two men who'd followed me up.
"Take this demon away."
"Mom?" My voice came out as a whisper. "What are you saying?"
Martha didn't look at me. She turned and walked upstairs. The two men came at me fast.
A cloth reeking of chemicals covered my nose and mouth. I fought hard, but the man's strength was ridiculous. My resistance meant nothing. Sweet, sickly fumes flooded my nostrils. My limbs went soft. Vision blurred.
Before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was Martha's back. Her bathrobe looked so white under the living room lights. Like church robes.
She never turned around.
"You're awake."
A voice came from my right. I snapped my eyes open—
Dull pain throbbed at the back of my skull. Everything blurred at first. Once my pupils adjusted to the light, I could finally see where I was. Warehouse. Or something like it. Dark as hell. Cluttered with random cargo all around.
A man stepped out from behind a metal shelf. Faded black T-shirt, jeans, holding a cup of water.
When he stepped into the light, I recognized his face.
"Liam?"
Liam Brooks. High school classmate. Same graduating class, though we weren't close. In a small town like ours, everyone from the same year sort of knew each other. He'd been on the basketball team, mostly bench, always sitting quietly in the back of classrooms.
My impression of him was limited to a shy, quiet, decent-looking guy.
But why the hell was he here now, in the place I'd woken up after being kidnapped?
"What are you doing here? Where is this?" I tried to move my wrists, but the ropes held tight.
Liam crouched down, held the cup to my lips. "Drink some water first. You've been drugged for six, seven hours. Your body needs hydration."
Yeah right. Like I was going to drink suspicious water in a suspicious place. I turned my head away from the cup. "Answer my question."
Liam sighed and set the water on the ground. Then sat in a folding chair in front of me, hands clasped on his knees, head down. Stayed quiet for a while before speaking.
"Chloe, you were sold."
