Page 33 of Whispers of the Dead

“No argument here,” Benji says. He punctuates his words with another kick to his tray, so it clatters against the bars. Something wet splashes onto my arm and I flinch. “Sorry, golden girl?—”

“Watch what the fuck you’re doing,” Damon growls out.

“It’s not a problem.” I brush the few meager water droplets off. We won’t last much longer without food or water, but I force that worry from my mind.

“Sorry,” Benji says again, his voice softer. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I don’t feel like taking another nap, courtesy of these assholes. Especially while they come in and drag you away.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling at the concern. Then I get curious. “What do you think you can do about it if they come back? You’re still locked up in there.”

Benji sniffs. “Don’t know, but I’ll figure something out in the moment. That’s when I do my best work.” He pauses. “By the way, I know you can’t see me, but my chest is puffed out with pride right now.”

A laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. “You’re something.”

“So are you, golden girl. It’s nice to see your eyes shining again.” My cheeks burn, and Benji doesn’t miss it. “And you’re blushing again, too. Quick, everyone compliment her.”

“She’s a good kisser,” Damon says, and the heat in my cheeks turns into an inferno.

Being held captive by dregs if my worst nightmare come true. However, for a while, despite the cold, despite the hunger, and despite everything, Benji makes me laugh and Damon makes me feel safe. Then there’s Cole, who gives me an ounce of hope when he spends the rest of the day muttering curses under his breath while he tries and fails to pick his cell’s lock. I can’t imagine a better group of guys to be held prisoner with.

11

BENJI

Zoey sits cross-legged in her cell with her fingers absently scratching at her arm. The repetitive motion tugs at something in my chest. It feeds a worry that’s been gnawing at me since she got back.

She’s been quiet. Too quiet. Her usual fire, that stubborn defiance, is smothered beneath something heavier.

I hate seeing her like this. I hate the silence stretching between us.

Before she showed up, this place was nothing but darkness, emptiness, and the occasional hellish laughter of the dregs while they made us beg for mercy. This place was dead quiet—pun intended—but she brought light and laughter. She brought life into the place that used to be nothing but whispers of the dead.

Ever since she arrived, there’s been light. Not only from the beam of sunlight that filters through the skylight window in her cell, but from her. She’s been the only thing keeping this place from swallowing us whole, and now that light is dimming.

“Hey, golden girl,” I call softly from where I’m leaning against the bars that separate us. Her head tilts a fraction,but she doesn’t look at me. Still, I have to know. “You wanna tell me what happened out there?”

She stiffens, her hand pausing mid-scratch. “Why?” she mutters. “So I can relive how I keep screwing everything up?”

That stings. The raw defeat in her voice guts me. I shake my head and force my tone to stay light. “Nah. Just wanna know how badass you were this time compared to every other badass time.”

That earns me a faint huff of laughter. It’s barely there, I’ll take it. Her shoulders even loosen a bit. “I hid inside a refrigerator.”

I blink. That’s not what I was expecting. “Wait…like, an actual fridge? That’s cold and probably has stale leftovers? You hid inside a fridge?”

Her lips twitch upward for half a second before she nods.

Damon’s voice rumbles from his cell. “Smart. They never would have thought to look there.”

I nod, impressed. “Not bad, golden girl. You’ve got some survival instincts in you, after all.”

Her smile fades as fast as it appeared, and she pulls her knees tighter to her chest. “It worked for a little while. When I got out, they found me.” She hesitates. Her hands clench into fists and frustration tightens her jaw. Her beautiful face is fixed with anger. “I grabbed a knife and tried to fight back. They drugged me—not a fan, by the way. That shit sucks. Next thing I knew, I woke up tied to a chair in some office.”

“An office?” I ask. That’s not a place I expected. A dungeon more gloomy than this small cell block, maybe, but not an office.

“Yeah. There was this guy…I don’t know.” She shakes her head like she’s still trying to make sense of it herself.

My grip on the bars tightens. All the worst-case scenarios race through my mind. “Tell me about this guy.”

She exhales through her nose. “He kept Eugene away from me. He also took my knife, but then he gave it back.”

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