The first one—the bigger, scarier one—replies to her in his native tongue. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying.”
The man frowns, causing his bushy black eyebrows to hood his dark eyes. “The girl. Where is she?” he says in a thick accent.
“I’m the only girl here,” Lily smiles, the lie painting her pink-glossed lips. She casually makes her way behind the counter without the slightest inkling of urgency in her step. “But if you’d like to leave a message—”
“Don’t play with me, d’yavol. Give us the girl, and we might let you live.”
Holy. Fuck.
As my eyes quickly scan the small space around me, searching for anything that can be used as a weapon, a set of Italian leather shoes come into view.
“Hello, Eden.”
Horror coils my stomach. But before I can run, fight back, respond—something—there are strong hands roughly gripping my arms and pulling me to my feet.
“Here she is.”
An iron grip yanks me toward the front of the store despite my violent protests. “Let me go, asshole!” I demand, putting all my strength into fighting his grasp.
“You will come, су́ка. The master awaits.” The Russian thug drags me as if he doesn’t even register my one hundred and twenty pounds.
“Let her go,” Lily orders, squaring her shoulders. “Or you won’t make it home for borscht. I can promise you that.”
“Too late, d’yavol,” replies the slick-haired monster on the other side of the counter. “You had your chance to kill her. Now we’ve come to collect.”
It happens so fast. Too fast for my unreliable, human eyes to fully believe.
Lily flips completely over the enclosed counter, unsheathing razor sharp daggers in each hand. The Russian staggers back, but not before she slices him across the chest. Bright red blood spurts onto the bulletproof glass, but it doesn’t slow him down from producing a machine gun from inside his floor length wool coat and spraying bullets in Lily’s direction. She rolls and dives with cat-like grace, swiftly taking cover behind a shelf. Her speed, her agility…it’s not possible. Not for the girl I thought I knew. Not for anyone.
“Come out, d’yavol. I have a big present for you.” Blood soaks the man’s entire torso, although there are no signs of him slowing down. He nimbly steps around littered potato chips and puddles of soda, the crunch of cellophane and wasted food under his expensive shoes resembling the sound of crushing bones. I don’t dare to say a word as he creeps closer to Lily’s location, in fear he may turn his attention to me. My captor unsheathes his own gun and jabs it into my side, insuring silence.
“Come on, Vlad. We have the girl. Let’s get out of here,” says the other goon near the stockroom. He holds his gun with a shaking hand, his nervous eyes darting towards the exit. Out of the three, he looks the youngest, and is clearly rattled.
“No! We will finish the job,” the man called Vlad shouts, rounding the corner where Lily escaped. I’m only one aisle over, still being manhandled by the greasy pig bathed in cheap cologne. Lily has nowhere to run. And even if she did, she couldn’t possibly dodge their bullets. I should do something. I should say something. But overwhelming fright has stolen my voice, locking it up tight behind the bars of my chattering teeth.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and divert my terror-stricken gaze to Lily’s reflection in the glass doors of the cooler. She’s only a dozen feet away, crouched down, those knives still gleaming with blood. Maybe if I struggle, I can cause a diversion, allowing her to escape. Or at least give her a chance to strike and get us the fuck out of this mess.
Do something, Eden. Focus.
You are not a fucking victim.
I open my mouth to scream, but before I can conjure my voice, the sudden ear-splitting sound of breaking glass rattles my skull as the entire storefront window explodes, raining down jagged, crystallized shards. The Russians turn towards the violent blast, training their attention and their guns on the entrance. They only have time to blink once before their vision is painted in blood. It’s him. The man with eyes carved of stone. The man I should have known was too alluring not to be deadly.
Without missing a beat, he rushes in, a gun in each hand. My stranger hits the younger thug before he can even get a round off, sending him to the ground before putting a bullet between the eyes of the asshole with the stinky cologne. The corpse slumps on top of me, his dead weight trapping my frame to the dingy floor. Blood gushes over me, staining my clothes and skin, along with chunky bits of brain matter. The smell is overwhelming, and I struggle frantically to turn my head, just in time to vomit.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die tonight.
Death clings to my skin, cradling me in its hot, liquid arms. It’s in my eyes…on my tongue. It demands to be felt and revered.
Strong hands yank me from the pool of blood and my own waste, swiftly dragging me deeper into the store, and leaving a smeared trail of red. Between the resounding pops of gunfire, the sight and smell of blood coating me from head to toe, and the violent sickness in my roiling gut, I’m disoriented. Shock and panic rally my rattled senses, and I do the only thing I can. What I should have done the moment the door chimed mere minutes ago, followed by the scent of cheap cologne. I scream at the top of my lungs like a crazed lunatic, shredding my vocal chords like ravaged ribbons. I don’t even know what I’m saying or even why I’m screaming. I’m beyond reason—beyond feeling anything but intense dread. Hysteria is all I know.
The blow comes before I can even see it—let alone prevent it. It jolts my skull for only a moment before a dark heaviness cloaks me in oblivion.
Just before it claims me completely, I look up to stare into twin pools of gray moonlight. Then everything shimmers before blurring into black.
I’ve been buried alive.
Deep below the crypt of my darkest nightmares.
My head feels as if it’s been split wide open. My eyes are swollen shut. I can’t swallow beyond the metallic-tasting sandpaper in my throat, and I hear voices—shouted whispers that I can’t comprehend. They’re close but my limbs are so heavy that I can’t bear to move towards them. Not that I would want to.
I force my brain to retrace my last steps. The icy sidewalk. The corner store. Logan and Lily. Shooting. Screaming. Blood.
Gray.
The breath is sucked from my lungs as I plummet into cold reality. I’m not at the store anymore. I know that for certain. The smells, the sounds, are all unfamiliar. Still, I’m too scared to open my eyes and see what foreign terror lies before me. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life. More scared than I was as a child when my own mother tried to drown me in the bathtub.
“Why the hell did you bring her here?”
“We couldn’t just leave her. They would’ve killed her.”
“And your point exactly? Wasn’t that the objective? Fact is, she should be dead. Very, very dead.”
“Not if they already know what she is. Death would be a kindness for her. For everyone.”
They’re talking about me, but I don’t understand. What she is? I’m a girl. An unimportant, inconsequential, invisible girl. Forgotten. What the hell could they want with me? And why…why do they want me dead?
“This wasn’t the plan, Lil. Stick to the fucking plan. We can’t just make exceptions anytime you feel like taking in a stray.”
“No, she’s right. They couldn’t have left her. Not like this.”
Three voices. Two men and…Lily. Lily’s here. Shit, they’ve taken her too. Or…no. Wait. Not taken. She’s with them. She’s one of them.
“It wasn’t my call,” she says. “L made the choice. If he wants to keep her contained…it’s for a good reason.”
“Fuck!” It’s the first male voice, the one who wanted to leave me. Or kill me. It’s gruff, veiled in annoyance. If I could reach out and feel his mind, I’
d find hatred and spite festering in his hollow soul. But the blow to my head has left me incapacitated and unable to make a connection. I can’t focus through the pain. Good. That type of evil stays with you, echoing in the dark hallways of your subconscious. I don’t want that darkness inside of me.
The second man speaks up, his voice much clearer, softer, but a deep, sultry baritone. He has an elegant accent, the type that draws you in and makes you want to listen. “Did he say why?”
“No,” Lily replies. “But it must have something to do with the Jumper.”
“So L is certain?” the second male asks.
“No, but…can’t you feel it? Besides, we need to be sure before we dispose of her.” Dispose of her? What is Lily saying? Why would she…?
“Well, only one way to find out. Let’s see what’s under those clothes.”
Hard, heavy footsteps approach, jumpstarting my better instincts and allowing fear to override the pain in my skull. All at once, I open my eyes and my mouth, and begin to scream at the top of my lungs.
“Get away from me! Get the fuck away from me!”
With fists and feet, I tear at the air in front of me, desperate to keep my captors at bay. Haughty, harsh laughter only pisses me off more. With angry tears burning my eyes, I focus on the sound coming from a tall form a mere three feet away from my place on the cold hardwood.
“This one’s a little firecracker. I like it,” he sneers. It’s the one that wanted to leave me for dead. He’s a massive brute with a jagged scar that runs from his right ear to the corner of his mouth, as if someone tried to cut his face into a permanent smirk. His hair is shaved close to his skull, making the grotesque disfigurement even more stark against his fair skin. He’s dressed in black leather from head to toe and his arms are exposed, showcasing bulging mounds of muscle. This man is a killer, there’s no doubt in my mind. And I don’t have to feel the blackness of his thoughts to know that he wouldn’t hesitate to snap my neck. And without remorse.
“Leave her alone,” Lily says, stepping beside him. She, too, is dressed in all black, so different from her usual wardrobe of floral prints and jeans. I know her—knew her—but this woman is not my friend. Her face…her voice…are all the same, but she is a stranger. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I just so desperately wanted to believe there was still goodness and kindness in the world, that I didn’t see through the disguise.
I scramble backwards on the floor until my back hits brick, scraping the skin under my blood-crusted sweater. Another man joins Lily at her side. His skin is dark bronze, and his eyes are the shade of spun honey. He doesn’t smile at me, but there’s something kind about his face. Or maybe that’s what I want to see—need to see. He raises a hand to halt the first man from coming towards me and warns him to give me space. He’s the second male voice, the one that agreed that they shouldn’t have left me. But why take me in the first place?
“Seriously, I’m not sitting around with a thumb up my ass, waiting for her to be Called. Lil, you need to check her now, or I will,” says the muscle-bound Buzzcut.
Lily looks uncertain, but she takes a step towards me, her palms raised in front of her.
“Don’t come near me,” I caution with a shaky voice. I try to shuffle back further, but there’s nowhere to run. There’s a wall to my right and what seems to be an end table to my left. Beyond that, there’s a bed. I’m in a bedroom.
Oh no. No.
Not this. Anything but this.
I scream, praying that my pleas for help will penetrate the brick walls. With my eyes still trained on my captors, I search for something—anything—to use against them, but there’s virtually nothing lying around. No shoes, no books, no empty water glasses. No signs of life.
I scramble to the nightstand and reach for the lone lamp and launch it with all my might. Without flinching, Scarface plucks it out of the air.
“You’ll regret that,” he growls, jerking forward and causing me to shrink back.
“L will be pissed if you kill her here,” a nameless voice says. Another man steps into view and looks me up and down, his dark, slanted eyes sparkling with amusement. He flashes me a half smile before looking at his accomplices. “You know he hates a mess.”
The newcomer, like his criminal friends, is dressed in black, although his unusual garb reminds me of a modern day samurai. He even has twin swords fixed onto his back, forming an X. So is that how I will die? Sliced to ribbons before an audience of sadists?
“Fine. I’ll do it,” another voice sounds behind him. The samurai is nudged aside by yet another man, a blonde with shoulder-length hair. Is this L? Seriously, how many people does it take to kidnap one, defenseless girl?
Surprisingly, he’s dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, although his long, muscled frame doesn’t lessen the threat. He approaches me, despite my screams, and grips my sweater between long fingers.
“Please. I’ll do anything. Just please…please don’t do this,” I cry, choking on my tears. I try to push him away with violently trembling hands, but I’m still weak from the blow to my head. Either way, I’m no match for him, or the other four psychopaths glaring at me with varying looks of contempt and skepticism.
“Calm down, pet. I’m not here to hurt you,” says the blonde man softly. His voice is dipped in sugar, but I can tell it’s only to coat the venom on his tongue. I want to believe his words, but something about his ethereal beauty completely alarms me. On the outside, he appears almost angelic—light hair, light eyes, with a tall, languid body. He actually reminds me of Lily. But I was wrong about her. Angels don’t abduct innocent women and hold them hostage in a strange bedroom while her friends gang rape her to death.
“What—what do you want with me?” I sputter hoarsely.
“Want with you?” he smiles. “I don’t want anything with you, pet. Besides, you reek.”
“Then…why? Why am I here? I don’t have any money. I don’t know anything. What…what are you going to do with me?”
The beautiful, blonde man tsks and shakes his head in amusement. “That remains to be seen.” Then without warning, he grips my sweater tighter and tugs, attempting to remove it. I thrash and resist his efforts, but his hold is unbreakable. While he may look willowy and elegant, his body is made of stone.
“Please,” I beg again, a fresh flood of tears streaming down my face. “You don’t want me. You don’t have to do this. Just let me go. I swear to God…I won’t tell anyone.”
The blonde man abruptly takes a step back, freeing my top from his once determined clutches. “Stop.”
“I swear to you. I won’t say a word. Please don’t rape me.”
The man looks up at the ceiling, then back to his colleagues, his light blues filled with conflict.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” a gruff, animalistic roar rumbles the very floor beneath my trembling frame. Then he’s here. The man…the gray-eyed stranger from the store appears, pushing through the crowd of captors with an air of annoyance. His beautiful, rugged face is screwed in distaste as he swiftly kneels down and takes my sweater in both his hands, ripping it in two like it’s made of paper. I don’t even have time to protest. And even if I did, I’m too stunned by his presence…by the menace that seems to encompass his frame…by the feel of his massive hands on my naked skin, to say a single, solitary word.
I scramble to cover myself, but it doesn’t dissuade him from twisting my body around so that I’m facing the wall. The blunt of a callused finger runs along the length of my spine, sending dread and unsolicited desire to my quaking core.
“It’s true,” he spits, as if it disgusts him to touch my body. “She’s the one.”
Then just as quickly as he entered, stunning the room into silence with his undeniably domineering presence, he exits without another word or glance in my direction.
Satisfied with the his declaration, the others file out one by one until only Lily is left staring at me, her eyes wide with shock…or fear. She opens her mouth to say something, b
ut hesitates, opting to swallow her words and follow her friends out of the room. The door locks behind her, sealing my fate.
I stare at the door until the sun rises into the sky. I don’t bother to scream or fight anymore. It wouldn’t matter anyway. I won’t make it out of here alive.
It has to be late afternoon by the time I hear the bedroom door unlock. I must’ve fallen asleep after emptying angry, confused tears into my blood-stained palms. I scramble to sit up from the floor and wrap the ripped sweater around my naked torso.
Lily kicks the door behind her and turns to me with a solemn gaze. There’s a tray of what appears to be food in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.
“Hi,” she whispers. She doesn’t approach me. Maybe in her convoluted mind she’s expecting me to invite her in with open arms. And honestly, I’m thankful for the familiar face. I hate it. I hate that I look at her and still see my friend, but I can’t help it. I am utterly alone, completely lost. She’s the only thing still giving me hope.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp through the extreme dryness in my throat. I should be begging her to help me, to free me, but I can’t. I’m hurt. I let this person—this killer—into my heart and she hurt me.
“I thought you may want to clean up. And eat something.”
“You thought wrong,” I lie, my stomach growling on cue in an act of betrayal. And the blonde guy was right. After being doused in blood, my own vomit and sweat, I do reek.
Lily looks back towards the door and frowns slightly before fixing her eyes on me. “L will want you to bathe, and he’ll want you fed. So…please. It will be easier for you if you just cooperate.”
“Why am I here, Lily? Who are these people? Shit…who are you?”
“I’m your friend, Eden.”
“Bullshit. If you were my friend, you’d tell me where the fuck I am and why the fuck I’m here.”
She sighs and rolls her sky blue eyes. “I saved your life.”
“Bullshit. You wanted to kill me. You saved me only so you could drag me here and do it yourself.”