Page 10 of Toy

“Yeah, and that was before they even started the commune,” Mason said, upper lip curling with disgust. “Imagine how fucked up you have to be to fake a terrorist attack on your own church. Your own family and friends. All those people who trust you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I drew blood as another horrifying image popped into my head.

“What are you thinking about?” Mason asked, gently stroking my face. My expression must have given it away.

“Elena,” I said, my voice almost cracking. “You never met her, but she was my best friend.”

“I remember hearing about her. She’s the one who figured out the truth. The cult men killed her and made it look like a suicide.”

I sniffed and nodded, trying to push aside the mental image of her pale corpse. “She was so smart. I always wonder where she’d be if she was still alive. She might’ve cured cancer or something. But we’ll never know, because a bunch of psychotic assholes thought she deserved to die for trying to be anything other than a mindless sex slave.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “The only tiny comfort I can find is that they didn’t burn her alive like they used to do to some of the others, all for their own sick fucking amusement. That’s all girls are to them. Walking slabs of meat to be used and abused in any way, just for fun.”

Mason’s jaw tightened. “We’re going to find them, Jolie,” he said. “And when we do, we’ll make them fucking pay for what they did. To Elena, to your mother, to my family, to all the others.”

Tears began to splash down my cheeks. I wanted to believe him so badly, but it was so hard. Where were we supposed to begin? The men of the cult had remained in the shadows for eight years, convincing everyone they were dead—even me until a few weeks ago—and so far, the only way we’d been able to see any of them was when they came directly to us with guns and open threats. We had no idea how to get to them first.

“How?” I asked. “They could be anywhere. We’d have to search the entire country.”

Mason was silent for a moment. Finally he rolled over and took my face in his hands, wincing slightly as he settled into the new position.

“Careful,” I murmured. “Your stitches.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, stroking my cheeks. “And you will be too. We’re going to find the cult. I promise.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry.” He pressed an index finger to my lips, cutting off my protest. “I think I know who can help us.”

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