Page 23 of Psyop Kings

I’m safe. For now.

The room is modern-looking, with muted grays and masculine bedding. Dark curtains hang over what must be a window. With a barely stifled squeal, I rush over to it. Carefully, so as not to draw any attention, I drag the curtain on one side along the rod.

Behind it is…

A wall.

No window. Just a wall.

The claustrophobic feeling threatens to suffocate me again. My prison keeps getting bigger, but it’s still a prison. Again, there’s nothing to use for a weapon. I could throw the lamp, but it would be useless against one of those men.

If they wanted to kill me, I think they’d have done it already.

So what now?

My stomach grumbles fiercely, reminding me I haven’t eaten since… Actually, I don’t know how long it’s been. Without light or windows or a freaking clock, I’m clueless to how much time has passed. One thing’s for sure. I’m starving. My throat is bone dry. And the headache that’s rattling my brain could be a hangover from the drugs forced into me or something much simpler like lack of caffeine or protein.

I make my way back over to the door and knock. When no one comes, even after the knocks go from polite to crazed pounding, I then start yelling my demands for them to release me.

Nothing.

I even attempt to throw myself at the door a few times to break through, but it’s a laughable effort. All I have to show for it is a bruise forming on my shoulder.

Defeated, I slink back over to the bed. I don’t want to lie down on it, but my entire body is aching, begging to curl up under the covers to pretend this is all a bad dream.

Leaving my shoes on in case I need to make a hasty exit, I slip under the comforter and sink into the surprisingly soft bed. Even fully clothed and wrapped in thick bedding, I can’t stop the incessant shivering.

I just want to go home.

Is this how Megan feels?

My own fear takes a back seat as I wonder about Megan. She’s around here somewhere. At the very least, these men know what happened to her. As soon as they face me, I’ll have my opportunity to find out.

I wake to the sound of voices.

Jerking upright, I’m terrified to discover two men standing at the foot of my bed. The older one I recognize from Instagram. Orion Crowne. The leader of this freak show. Beside him is Caius, standing completely still, expressionless dark eyes pinned on me.

Orion, however, isn’t devoid of emotion like Caius.

His features are twisted into one of utter disgust. Hard eyes bore into me like I’ve made it my personal mission to ruin his day. He smooths at the hair of his white beard as though he’s trying to figure out what to do with me.

“Let me go,” I offer, voice raspy from being so dry.

Caius doesn’t react. Not even to laugh at my expense. He’s a deadly robot.

Orion, however, grows increasingly colder. The air seems to drop several degrees under his penetrating stare. I shiver, fighting helpless tears. My bottom lip trembles and I bite down on it to hide my terror.

“Definitely a problem,” Orion says to Caius, sneering at me. “How are we going to fix it?” He curses and then grits his teeth. “That boy…”

Caius gives him a curt shake of his head. Almost as if to say, “Not in front of the girl.” But he says nothing. Instead, he narrows his gaze on me.

“There’s the program,” Orion offers halfheartedly. “But probably not wise considering…”

Again, he trails off.

“Not wise,” Caius agrees. “However, I’m not opposed to coming up with something new and tailored just for thissituation.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

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