Page 56 of The Devil In Disguise

When the pieces in my head click together, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I met my birth mother in my coma. Her voice was the one echoing in my head. Estelle.

Even though my parents didn’t give birth to me, they still raised me. They are technically family regardless. The love I have for them will never change.

Shit, my parents. I haven’t heard from them since that night when I crashed, nor have they heard from me. That’s the first place I need to go.

My heart falls to my ass when strong hands start to haul me backward, silencing my yell with a heavy slap over my mouth. Ace is already on his feet ready to attack my attacker and disappears behind me. The cloth material on my face has my instincts kicking into overdrive and I hold my breath while flailing as hard as I can to get loose.

Freeing an arm and blindly swinging upwards has the man loosening his grip on me enough for me to tumble forward. I don’t dare breathe yet, knowing there’s something wet on my face and my vision is already hazy.

Where the hell is Ace and why isn’t he barking anymore or attacking?

I don’t make it two steps away when my body jerks backward from a yank of my hair. Before I regain my balance, both of my arms are being pinned behind my back and shoving me onto my knees, where two heavy thighs squeeze my legs together.

“This one has some fight in her,” the man holding me says out loud, before leaning down to my ear, “I like that.” His gravelly voice makes me want to puke out my dinner, but it rings a bell in my head.

“She sure does.” Another voice sounds from behind me and my struggles are growing weaker with my muscles. I know I need to suck in a breath soon. My exercises can only help for so long.

“Will you hurry with the syringe?” the man behind me says. My eyes widen as both his words and the realization clicks.

The man from the party.

My head whips around as far back as it can to commit both faces to memory.

Dark hazel. Black hair. Tall with muscles and a bit of weight to him. Chipped right tooth.

His friend with light blue eyes and dirty blond hair. Also tall, but thin and has a bumpy nose, like it’s been broken once or twice before. I’d like to be the one to break his nose before watching him bleed out next to Hazel Demon behind me.

“Get fucked,” is the first thing I say upon taking in a sweet, toxic breath.

There’s no use. Limbs and eyelids are heavy, and when that sharp needle punctures my neck, it’s only seconds before everything fades to black.

The pain. The fear. Possibly my freedom. All washed away.

It takes effort to open my eyes and I experience a sense of déjà vu as they finally flutter open. There’s one light in the center of the ceiling, but the smell is what I notice first. Mustiness and something rotten. When the fog clears from my eyes, I take in a large, dirty room with hay scattered all over the floor. My heart starts racing and my body is reluctant to respond to my commands. A groan escapes me as I battle with the ropes holding my hands together to sit myself upright.

Terror washes over me, freezing me in place with widened eyes to confirm I’m not hallucinating. I’m not alone here. Scattered around the floor are a bunch of different women of seemingly varying young ages, either sleeping or sitting up and looking around in shock or fear, like myself. All of them are in a nice dress, as if they were sleeping off a wild night out.

I know that isn’t the case.

A baby blue dress catches my eye on a sleeping girl in the corner. That dress was at the party. Looking down, my green dress looks back at me and I desperately wade through my molasses-covered field of thoughts, gradually trying to piece together how I ended up here and where I am.

Emerald green.

Careful there, emerald.

The woods. The attack. The man from the party.

Shit.

One more scan of the room confirms it’s only us in here, the women who I’m sure were all taken against their will. This vast room looks like the inside of an old barn. More of the girls are waking up and my body is kicking into overdrive as I push myself to stand and walk over to one of the girls who was awake when I awoke myself. She’s wearing a long, pastel yellow dress that, under different circumstances, compliments her blonde hair and sad, green eyes.

Kneeling beside her, I cautiously reach for her bound hands whispering, “Hey, I’m Amaris. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, but maybe if we help untie each other and the rest of the girls we can find a way out of here quicker.”

She’s fighting back tears and shaking at my hands, but she nods and lets me work on her knot in silence. It took a long minute, but when she’s finally free she goes for my hands next and shuts her eyes briefly, letting a tear slip from each eye.

“Thank you.” Her voice is soft and broken, but she clears her throat and wipes a stray tear before continuing with my binding. “My name is Bailey. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“None of us are,” I say, looking in her eyes.

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