Page 272 of Unexpected Hero

Fuck it. Worth a shot.

Let me take a look at the police report Freya filed to see which detective is assigned and if any witnesses are listed in the file yet.

While accessing their server, I notice I’m not the only one creeping around behind the firewall.

I recognize the signature of the hack instantly. Because I’ve seen her use it three times in the last ten days. The hairs on my arm and back of my neck stand on end.

What the fuck is Mia doing looking into Lettie’s file?

Diverting my focus, I grab the laptop I’ve been using to track Mia’s activity. Let’s hope she’s using her computer right now.

Jackpot. She’s online.

Her search history from this afternoon indicates she’s investigating the nightclub. I pour over the files, my eyes growing wider by the second.

As soon as I have Mia’s address up, I check her GPS location and confirm she’s home.

She’s going to tell me why she’s tracking Lettie. And then she’s going to help me find her.

Chapter 51

Karma is my boyfriend

LETTIE

Iused to long for sleep.

It was my respite from the unimaginable horror I’ve been trapped in for… I don’t know how many days now. Three? Five? I think it’s Tuesday. Or maybe Monday.

I’m too tired to figure it out. But it’s dark outside. At least I still know the difference between day and night.

Yet I’m not sleeping. My dreams are painful now. In those few moments of sleep, I’m tormented as much as if I’m awake. Sometimes worse.

Fortunately — or unfortunately — they don’t let us sleep much. I assume sleep deprivation is part of their plan to break us down.

But I’m not broken.

I will not break.

Sabrina was right. If you think about something else and don’t fight, it’s more tolerable. But that feels far too close to being broken. Like Sabrina.

Not me.

I’ll never break.

That’s why I continue fighting them, even if my efforts only result in more punishment.It’s my way of communicating that I’m still me. And I’m never going to accept the way they’re treating us.

Like animals.

If that’s what they want us to be, I choose to be a wild horse. One that refuses to be tamed.

I’d be lying if I said the drive to fight back wasn’t waning, though.Especially when my disobedience earns me extra pain.

In addition to the cut on my upper cheek, I’ve got a black eye and cigarette burn marks under my upper arms. They picked that spot so the scars won’t be visible to my future customers. Heaven forbid they damage the merchandise. My ribs are bruised, if not broken. Each inhale might as well be razors under my skin.

My bones might break, but I won’t.

Before I was living this nightmare, I occasionally wondered how I might handle being in a life-or-death situation. Especially when I was watching an action movie or reading a thriller. Would I be the damsel in distress? Would I be brave, or would I cower? Fight back? Cry? Panic? Stay calm?

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