Page 15 of Striker

Pressing my face to the cold glass, I try to peer to the left. It’s just more house, and a massive ruined garden lined with empty planters and brown patches, broken up by pathways and stone arches on a wide lawn. I think the edges of what may be marshland peek around the side of the window, but I’m not sure. Beyond that, way in the distance, a line of trees cuts across the landscape, wrapping around to the other side of the house. I hear the ocean but it’s faint, so it must be far away. It reminds me of the country house my parents took me to some summers, but on a much larger scale.

Rune like’s the city, not this endless countryside. From what I can tell of the landscape, we’re in the same state, or at least near where we had the country home. Just knowing I’m somewhere near there is making my hands ache. My heart flutters painfully like the bruised wings of a caged bird. I feel caged. I am caged. Locked in a room.

Like what she used to do to me.

My nails cut into my skin again as I try to push down the memories, but they slip through. A flash of blackness. My underwear and pretty dress daddy bought me soaked with piss. Agony in my hands. Splinters of pain cutting through me as I scratched at the door. Blood smearing on my face, mixing withthe endless tears as I screamed, raking my nails over the door then my cheeks, trying to break out of my head.

My head was always a far worse place to be trapped than the small closet where she put me.

I’m not there now.

Even if I hear no sounds, I’m in a large room with daylight and a window.

And a locked door.

And the quiet. Except for the memories of my screams breaking through, echoing in my head, haunting in its clarity.

Like I’m screaming now.

Bile rises in my throat, and my knees give. I slide down to the floor, covering my ears, and I’m back there. Her cruel smile, the last thing I saw before she shut the door. The sound of voices and then harsh, heavy breathing. Then nothing. Nothing for so long.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I jerk sideways, my mouth closing as I uncover my ears. I turn to see those beautiful winter eyes. My hands latch on to him, anchoring me to the room.

“Little Red,” Breaker says, shoulders heaving like he’s been running. “What the fuck is happening inside your head right now?”

“I’m trapped,” I breathe, realizing I’m panting and tears stream down my face, my entire body racked with tremors. When I see my hands curled into fists around Breaker’s forearms, I drop my them, placing them on my thighs to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help. Gulping down air, I say, “I’m not there. I know I’m not here, but I’m trapped. Like she did. I can’t get out.”

I know I’m not making sense. My words, a jumble of sobs and nonsense.

A shadow passes behind Breaker’s eyes and he leans down and scoops me up like he did last night, placing me on the end of the bed. Viper sits next to me, brushing my hair back from my shoulders.

“Who?” Breaker asks gently, crouching down in front of me.

A hysterical giggle bubbles in my throat. I swipe the back of my hand under my nose, suddenly aware I’m talking to the men who have kidnapped me about fearing being locked in a room.

“Where’s Delly?” I ask.

The two men exchange a look.

“Can I see her?”

Viper taps his foot and slides his hand over his head, making me wonder what his hair looks like. None of them had hair down there and I wonder what color his hair is. What he looks like.

Breaker stands up, gripping my hand, pulling me from the bed. “Are you hungry?”

My free hand moves to my belly, like I’m testing to see if it hurts from hunger, and confusion swirls in my head. “Papa is going to find you, and when he does, he’ll fucking slice your balls off.”

I don’t know why I called him Papa. It just came out. I fucking hate the name he insists I call him. He’s not my father. My father was sweet. Loving. My real father gave me kisses and hugs that didn’t hurt. He actually loved me, even if he allowed what she did. He was just scared of her, too.

“Hate to break it to you, Vixen, but your Papa doesn’t know how to find you.” Viper grabs my arm and yanks me toward the door. “And until we decide otherwise, you’ll stay here and cooperate. Now let’s go eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I snap, jerking away. “I want to see Delly.”

“If you want to see Delilah, then you’ll listen,” Breaker says, placing a hand on the small of my back. “And eating is part of listening.”

My eyes gravitate to the window. “Are we going outside?” My heart skitters. “I’m I going to get locked in here again after I eat?”

Breaker’s body goes rigid, and he shoots a look at Viper, the to the open doorway.

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