Letting out a sigh, I find my gaze shifting back toward Ariana’s cell, but more importantly, the key that still dangles from the lock. It’s like some kind of cruel torture, dangling my freedom so close in front of my face, but just out of reach. I have bruised my arms and chest more than once over the past two days, trying to force myself through the bars just enough to grab hold of the stupid key. I’ve used my clothes as a lasso and attempted to scale the fucking bars to try and reach it with my legs. Typically, I’m not a desperate kind of girl, but fuck, I’ll do anything it takes to get my hands on that key.
The boys aren’t coming, and I’m done sitting around waiting for them to show up and save me. I should have been trying to save myself from the beginning, but a part of me still wants to blindly trust them, to believe they’re doing everything they can to try and find me.
They wouldn’t abandon me, not if they thought there was still hope, but I can’t sit around and do nothing anymore. No one has come down to check on me since Phillip disappeared with Ariana. I haven’t been fed. Haven’t received water. I’m dirty as fuck and the heat is wearing me down, not to mention the decaying body beside me isn’t looking so great.
Get out of here.
Slit Giovanni’s throat.
Save Roman’s baby.
Find Ariana.
End Phillip’s miserable life.
Fuck, I’m going to be a busy girl once I finally break free of this hell. My list just keeps growing. I feel like Arya Stark repeating my list over and over again, but it seems to be the only thing that helps to pass the time.
My mind keeps taking me back to Ariana’s face as Phillip dragged her out of here. I hate that woman, she’s a real cold bitch, but what she did for me down here … she saved me from that same fate. She made sure he didn’t harm me, and while I don’t understand her reasoning for wanting to protect me, I appreciate it all the same.
A loud grumble comes from upstairs just moments before the door swings open and I hear one of the guards on the stairs. Panic surges through me and I watch the stairs like a hawk, my heart thundering wildly in my chest. Without the boys by my side, that brave warrior I thought I could have been has quickly slipped away. I’m left with nothing but scars and memories to spur me on, and I just have to hope that’s enough to keep me going.
Another guard steps out behind him and the two of them make their way down the stairs, heavily thumping against the rickety metal steps. The whole staircase shakes beneath their weight and I’m sure if they moved their asses any faster, the whole thing would crumble beneath them.
They hit the bottom step and the guy in front hooks his fingers around the railing to propel himself around the corner, directly facing me as the other does the same, sending an intense fear rattling through my chest.
My body tenses. There’s at least another three women down here, but their attention is on me, and I don’t fucking like it. I hate not knowing, but to be honest, if something is going to happen, I’m glad it’s coming for me and not the other women who have been suffering down here for who knows how long. I don’t know what they did to land themselves in Giovanni’s desert prison, but I’m certain they don’t deserve to be here, just as I don’t. I haven’t spoken to them, and they haven’t attempted conversation with me either, but one look at them tells me they’ve already given up on any chance of survival.
Not me though.
The men stride toward me with scowls stretched across their faces. “Get up,” the guy in front mutters, wiping his forearm over his sweat-soaked, dirty face, his lips curling into a sadistic grin. “It’s your lucky day.”
I don’t dare move, knowing all too well that their version of ‘my lucky day’ is far from what I would consider lucky, and if anything, they’re probably down here to fuck me while no one is around to hear me scream.
He stops at the door of my cell and his friend moves in beside him, his filthy gaze slowly scanning over my blood-stained body. “He told you to get up,” he leers. “Don’t make him ask again.”
My gaze shifts back to the first guy and seeing the cocky confidence stretched over his face, I reluctantly pull myself to my feet, knowing that resisting is only going to make it worse for me. I hover by the back of my cell, keeping as far as I can from the men, but when a key clinks in the lock and the heavy door slides open with a metallic BANG, I realize I don’t stand a chance.
Swallowing hard, I keep my stare sharp, watching their every little move as they advance into my cell. They storm toward me, and I back up until the hard surface of the stone wall slams against my back. “Don’t touch me,” I spit, yanking my arm away as the guards attempt to grab me.
The guard who spoke first laughs, the corner of his lips lifting in a sickening sneer. “Don’t worry, princess. We’re not here to fuck you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The other guard scoffs and looks down at my body in disgust. “Not that we would anyway. Look at you, covered in your own piss and that bitch’s dried blood. Couldn’t get me to touch you, not even if you paid me.”
Relief swarms through me but it still doesn’t explain what the fuck they’re doing in here.
The first guard grips my elbow and yanks me toward him, but my lack of energy has me falling into him. He catches me in strong hands and forces me in front of him, gripping the top of my arms in a bruising hold. He shoves me forward and I try to resist, pulling back against him, too scared of what the outside of this cell could mean for me. “Where are you taking me?” I demand, my fingers gripping the metal bar of the cell.
“Time for a bath,” he murmurs in my ear, the sick bastard getting off on my fear. His friend steps into my side and pries my fingers from the bar. I relentlessly try to hold on, but after a moment of struggle, he brings his knee up and slams it against my wrist. A wailing scream tears out of me as a dull throbbing shoots through my hand and I’m forced to release the bar.
The guard holding me doesn’t miss his chance and pushes me out the door of the cell as his friend laughs and follows us through. He releases my arms and pushes me hard, sending me sprawling across the basement.
I face plant into the bars of Ariana’s empty cell and barely catch myself before he’s on me again. He grabs my waist and spins me around before slamming my back against the metal bar. “What do you want with me?” I spit, tasting blood in my mouth as my cheek aches from the face plant.
“You get to go home,” he tells me, a wicked secret hidden deep within his eyes as his friend strides down the opposite end of the hall, his footfalls making a haunting echo through the remaining empty cells.
My brows furrow and I look back at him with a daunting confusion. “Home?” I question, not trusting him for a second, especially with that wicked gleam sparkling in his eyes.
He steps into me and I suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst as my fingers knot around the closest bar, my knuckles turning white as I grip them with everything I’ve got. “That’s right,” he tells me, the venomous tone in his voice sending a wave of unease pulsing through my veins as a deafening motor drums to life. “You’re going home. It might not be the home that you were hoping for, but I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable there.”