Page 6 of Cruel Cravings

My stomach twists.

Her responses hardly sound like her. They’re fun and flirtatious. Short and teasing.

Generic.

I open a message from a user named footballfanatic71 who offers five hundred dollars for a private cam session. Another named musclegod87 wants to take her out for drinks. She never had a chance to reply.

Heat rises inside my chest and my skin prickles from an emotion I can’t really place—grief, anger, irritation. Maybe all three.

The messages fill up the screen, taking forever to scroll through.

You’re stunning. Can’t stop staring at your photos.

Let me spoil you, gorgeous.

Lyra, you’re absolutely breathtaking. Dinner?

I slam shut the laptop and the heat intensifies. It spreads, crawling up the back of my neck and then flushing onto my face.

These men never cared about my sister. These men don’t even know what’s happened to her.

The laptop dings from a brand new message in the mailbox. I blow out a deep sigh and my hand shakes reaching to open the laptop again.

The envelope icon jiggles excitedly as if it can’t wait for me to click on it and read the new message.

I take the plunge with a click. It’s from a man named Francesco Gigante, his profile picture a photo of himself in mirrored sunglasses and a popped collar.

Ciao, bella. I can’t wait to be blessed by your stunning presence again.

I shudder at how sleazy he sounds. And what does he mean see me again? Was my sister entertaining this man?

He doesn’t at all seem like her type. Then again, are any of these men my sister’s type? It seems like she was open to chatting with anyone so long as they were nice enough and were willing to pay.

Another new message comes through before I can decide on a response to Francesco. This one is more palatable, coming from a man named Winston Cooper. Where Francesco wore aviator shades, Winston wears a nerdy pair of glasses and a polo. His user title mentions he’s the head editor at theEaston Times. My sister had worked there!

Interest piqued, I click on the new message from Winston.

Lyra???

Where have you been?!

Are you okay? Have you seen the news?

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I hesitate a second and then tap away at the keys to respond.

I have been very busy. Just got back from out of town.

His next message comes almost immediately.

Out of town?! The whole city’s presumed you dead!

Something about his phrasing ignites an irritated heat in me. I bang away some more at the keyboard, letting him know my sister—I’m—perfectly fine.

They’re wrong. I’m alive.

We need to talk.

I can give you a chance to tell your story.

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