A second later, her scythe is in her hand as if it has always been there. She sets the blade against my skin and my breath catcheshard. One wrong move, one slip of her wrist, and she could open my veins. I would bleed out in here. Instead, she slices through the ties with a clean, precise motion. The plastic drops away, leaving my wrists free.
“Much better,” she says.
I freeze for a beat out of pure stubbornness, the kind that insists I didn’t need her and refuses to hand her the satisfaction. Then the pain in my neck spikes until it’s all I can think about, and I have to give in. Slowly, I unfold, stretching my limbs inch by inch, letting my legs slide out flat on the floor.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter as I do it. “Everything hurts me.”
Rhea nods like she knows exactly what I mean. “Yeah. That bastard mastered the art of tying you up so you beg for death by the morning.”
She slides back down to the opposite end of the van. I rub at my neck for a couple of seconds, trying to chase the worst of it away, and then I still myself and just stare at her. She’s looking around the cramped space with an almost casual detachment before she finally meets my gaze.
“They kept it the same,” she murmurs. “The van. I knew they would, but I haven’t stepped foot inside since I died here.”
My throat tightens as the silence settles between us. After a moment, I catch myself chewing my lip, fighting the anger coiling in my chest, and I make a decision I do not particularly like. As much as I cannot stand her, I can understand this. I know what it is like to be forced to stare at something traumatic while you are suspended between helplessness and fury. I know what it feels like to step back into the center of it and have to battle it in real time.
The look in her eyes holds all of it at once, acceptance and pain, and that raw, scratchy discomfort that sits under the skin and never quite goes away. She tries to hide it behindindifference, but I see it anyway. I had the same expression when I stepped foot inside Mark and Jessica’s home.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say, and I mean it. Nobody deserves captivity. I have only been here a little while, but the dread in this place is too strong. It clings to everything, like her despair soaked into the metal, like the despair of every girl who died here is still trapped in the air.
“Me too,” she says.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask. “To save them?” I point at the girls. “Do you know something, something I don’t? Some secret exit?”
Rhea sighs and looks around again. Then she points to the small space where the hatch was. The wall there looks nearly seamless again, and it terrifies me all over anew how meticulous these killers are, how far they will go to make sure they can play with human life however they want.
“There used to be a ringer there,” she says.
I frown. “A what?”
“Metal loop. Screwed into the frame.” She nods at the wall. “Tie-down point. Like this used to haul cargo before it started hauling girls.”
“Is it still there?” I’m already pushing myself up, moving toward the spot as she answers.
She gives a short, humorless laugh. “Not a chance. If it helped me once, they’ll have ripped it out the second I was gone.”
I stop so fast my pulse stutters, then I look back at her over my shoulder. “You escaped?” I echo.
“For a while.” Her gaze slides away. “Before they captured me again.”
My stomach rolls.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“Believe me, neither do I, most of the time.” Her mouth twitches as she shrugs. “Besides, it’s a pretty lame fucking story. If you want ammunition to dislike me, it’s a perfect candidate.”
I watch her, trying to decide whether she’s serious or baiting me.
“A lame story,” I repeat. “Lamer than me getting caught like this? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she says. And then, annoyingly, she smiles. I feel the stupidest urge to smile back, which makes zero sense when I’m still fantasizing about killing her.
“Fuck it, fine,” she says after a moment, like she’s arguing with herself and losing. “What else do I have to lose? I might as well tell you.”
“I’m all ears,” I say. I don’t have anything better to do anyway.
“They caught me around a year before I met Talon. I was just a runaway from home. My parents sent me to nursing school, but after a while I had this big epiphany that all I ever do is what others tell me to, and I just ran. I told them I was going to travel for a bit before I decided my youth was over. These guys were supposed to give me a ride.”
A year before Talon. That’s weird. I sit down and let her continue.
