Smell. The first of my senses to trickle in. I wish it were anything else

because I'm instantly overwhelmed by the scent of body odor, spiced

cologne, and what can only be described as the stench of evil incarnate.

And then my sixth sense seeps in, whispering notes of warning and

urgency.

I’m in danger.

Those notes turn into a song full of screeching and loud noises, filling

my body with heart-wrenching panic. Adrenaline spikes, and just barely do

I have enough sense to remain as quiet as possible.

Slowly cracking open my crusted eyes, I’m greeted by complete

darkness. It takes a second to process that there’s a blindfold strapped

around my head.

Then, the blissful numbness I awoke in crumbles, and I lose my breath

when all-consuming pain filters in, engulfing my body in absolute agony.

God, is this what being alive feels like? It can’t be death. I’d be at peace

if it were. And I may have fallen for a stalker, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t

land a spot within heaven’s gates.

I fucking earned that shit.

Racking my brain, I try to think past the pain and remember what the

fuck happened to me. Vaguely, I recall text messages from Daya asking me

to come over. The urgency I felt when she wasn’t answering my calls.

Getting in my car, headlights, and panicking, being jerked forward, and then

nothing.

And now I’m here… wherever that is. But not somewhere safe.

Christ, was that even Daya texting me? Did something happen to her

too?

That possibility sends another wave of panic crashing through me.

Scenarios curtail and evolve until I’m a mass of anxiety and desperation.

She could be hurt or in serious trouble.

Fuck—I’m hurt and in serious trouble, and I’ve no idea how the fuck I’m

going to get out of it.

My breathing is escalating further, and my heart is beating so heavily, it

physically hurts as it slams against my chest. It takes what little strength I

have left to keep silent.

Where the fuck am I?

Where's Zade?

Quiet, dull voices are next, muffled by the noise in my ears but steadily

growing louder. I strain my ears, trying to hear over the beat of my heart

and the pain swelling in my body like a water balloon.

Somehow the agony has a voice too, and it’s fucking loud.

“Z will be looking for her,” one man says quietly. “But we’ll be fine

once we get to Garrison’s and chuck the van. We’ll get her there quickly.”

A particular memory knocks me over the head, flashes of being dragged

out of my car and the residual pain of glass and metal biting through my

skin. It explains why my back is on fire.

I’ve been fucking kidnapped—obviously. This had to have been the

Society’s doing. Zade had said they targeted me, and I know he had guards

stationed outside of Parsons Manor. They must have used Daya to draw me

out, which means there’s a high chance she’s been taken, too.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

I didn’t even stop to consider it could be a trap when Daya wasn’t

answering the phone. I was so intent on getting to her in case she was hurt

or in trouble that it wasn’t even a consideration to call Zade. Not only could

it have saved me, but it also could have saved Daya, too.

I squeeze my eyes shut as a sob crawls up my throat. A tear slips through

my lashes, and my chest shakes with exertion, trying not to break down.

This was my own damn fault.

Zade warned me countless times they were after me, and the first trap

they set, I walked right into.

You’re such an idiot, Addie. Such a fucking idiot.

“You actually think we'll be able to hide her from him? It’s fucking Z,

man,” another man responds, this one with a slight Hispanic accent.

“We’re just giving the Society what they asked for. Which one are you

more afraid of? Them or Z?”

Fuck, it was the goddamn Society. I knew it, but hearing it confirmed

only sends a fresh dose of adrenaline into my system.

I don’t know why I got tossed into this shit, but they need to take me out

of this fucked-up salad of depravity; I don’t belong here. I belong in a salad

full of fruits and vegetables. Healthy things that don’t run me off the road

and enslave me.

The second man mutters, “I’d prefer not to fucking choose.”

It sounds like a hand slapping someone’s shoulder or back as if to

reassure him. “Too bad you don’t have a choice, Rio. Doesn’t matter. This

girl right here is worth millions. I mean, we got a fucking diamond here.

Just imagine it, dude—Z's girl, the one and only, up on an auction stage.

You know how many enemies he has? People will be frothing at the mouth

to make his girl their little toy. I’ll get my cut from Max, and the Society

will compensate you, I’m sure. We’ll be living fucking lavishly.” He lets

out a burst of hyena-like laughter. “I can buy my own goddamn private

island after the money goes through!”

A shot of anger pumps into me at the man’s callous words, speaking of

me like I’m a house up for sale.

“Your idea of comfort must be different from mine. We'll have to go into

hiding alongside her. At least while Z is still alive,” the second man—Rio—

responds. His name sounds familiar, and I think I faintly remember

someone yelling his name after they ran me off the road.

“Don’t worry, man. We’ll get a head start with the ritual happening

tonight, and I’m sure the Society will take out Z, one way or another.

They’ll protect us.”

A derisive snort is the only response the first man gets.

Jesus Christ, I really am in deep trouble. Tears brim the corners of my

eyes, and try as I might, no amount of trash talking keeps them from

overflowing like rivers past the blindfold.

I barely manage to wrangle down the sob that’s still threatening to spill,

clawing its way up to the inside of my teeth.

Deep breaths, Addie. What did Zade teach you?

It takes several moments to collect my thoughts, but eventually, his voice

filters in.

Leave evidence.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I slowly grip stands of my hair and

tug until they break free. The sharp pinpricks are inconsequential compared

to the rest of my body.

I keep my movements minimal and slow. With the blindfold on, I’ve no

idea if they can see me well. One movement out of the corner of their eye

can alert them.

I wiggle my fingers until the strands loosen and fall away.

Just as I’m reaching for more hair, they hit a particular brutal bump in

the road, and I can’t keep the yelp from slipping free.

The pair hadn’t been talking at that moment, but it felt like a crowded

room just went deathly silent in a matter of seconds.

“Welcome to the land of the living, sweetheart,” one of the men croons.

It’s the first guy who had referred to me as a diamond.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice raspy and hoarse.

“To your new home—well, temporary home,” he corrects. “Whoever

pays the most will provide you with your forever home.” He chuckles as if

I’m a dog about to be adopted into a loving family.

“Great,” I croak. “Sounds like I’ve hit the jackpot.”

One of them laughs humorlessly, but it sounds like Rio this time. “Hold

on tight to that humor, baby girl. You’re going to need it for where you’re

going.”

Before I can open my mouth to respond, I feel a prick in my arm,

followed by a burning sensation spreading throughout my veins.

I suck in a sharp breath. And it happens to be the last breath I take before

darkness descends.

“Her vitals are unstable, and her blood pressure is dropping. We need to

get her an IV.”

I stir; the unfamiliar voice distorted beneath the ringing in my ears.

Agony blazes in every inch of my body, but it feels like I’m underwater,

fighting to get to the surface yet kicking away from it because I just know

the pain will only intensify. I’m encased in a shroud of fire, flames licking

at my nerve endings, and the closer I get to consciousness, the brighter the

flare.

There’s a tiny prick in my arm, followed by muffled voices coming from

different directions.

“Dislocated shoulder, head trauma, lacerations throughout her body.”

The man’s voice fades out before cutting back in, a harsh shout that travels

up my spine.

“Goddammit, Rio, this isn’t a fucking hospital where I have the

equipment I need. She could have internal bleeding right now, for all I

know.”

“Come on, man, she was fine just a bit ago,” another answers, a note of

concern in his tone. Rio’s companion, I think.

“Fine? I have no way of knowing what kind of damage she took. It’s

evident she hit her head. She could be hemorrhaging and potentially die in

seconds. You gonna find me a CT scanner?” When he’s met with silence, a

muttered, “Thought so,” follows.

Darkness licks at the edge of my consciousness, threatening to drag me

back under. I moan, and probing fingers pry my eyes open. A bright light

flashes in them, but I hardly notice.

“Miss, can you tell me what hurts?”

An older man replaces the light, his face crowding over me. His image is

blurry, but I can make out tufts of gray hair, a bushy mustache, and pale

blue eyes.

I part my lips, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

Jesus, what did they inject me with? Whatever it was, it’s making me

disoriented and dizzy.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but I need you to tell me what

hurts.”

Everything. Everything fucking hurts.

“My… shoulder,” I croak out finally. “My head.”

“Anywhere else? Your chest or stomach?”

“Back,” I gasp, remembering once more being dragged out of my car.

My back feels as if it’s been shredded with a cheese grater.

“That all?” he presses.

I nod my head, the incessant questions exhausting. A million other

places hurt, too, but my energy is depleted, and I’m so very tired.

“I’m going to put you under anesthesia and get you fixed up, okay?”

Clarity surfaces over my surroundings, and the man’s facial features

sharpen. Along with another man standing behind him, who’s shifting on

his feet and watching us.

Time to go to sleep, princess.

Dark bottomless eyes and a wicked grin—Rio. He’s the one who had

dragged me out of the car. Flashes of that conversation elude me, but I

know there was more to it. I can’t think past the relentless pounding in my

skull.

Just as my eyes were beginning to focus, my vision blurs once more, and

my eyelids grow heavy. I can’t fight the deep pull to just close my eyes.

I don’t want to fight it. Not when it’ll take me away from the pain.

Addie, baby, I need you to fight for me, okay? I need you to survive until

I get to you.

“How badly is she damaged?”

The question stirs me out of the endless pit I’ve been drifting in, where

only an illusion of Zade’s voice lives. It’s not real—his voice isn’t actually

there. But it feels so real. So soothing, that I fight to stay where I can hear

him.

“How badly do you think? You ran her off the road.”

Alongside the angry response is a swell of dull pain pulsing throughout

my body. I hear a sigh, and then the older man continues.

“She’ll have a few scars along her back from the glass. You’re lucky

they were fairly clean, so the scarring won’t be too terrible.”

“That’ll decrease her value,” a voice mutters, too low to discern who

said it.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re getting paid regardless. The fuck you care

for?”

“Uh, maybe because your dumbass mistake is risking my life? Jesus,

Rio, I knew she was banged up but not this bad.”

................................................................... TO BE CONTINUED ................................................................