Page 192 of Ravaged Soul
“How long was I out?”
“I don’t know.” Gracie winces while cracking her neck. “A few hours?”
“Shit. You arrived with us?”
“They tossed you both into the van with me. I couldn’t believe it when I saw your face. He’s thrown other girls in with me before during transport, but I never thought I’d see you here.”
“Transport where?”
“Parties,” she says vaguely.
Her tone is matter of fact. A little too flat and nonplussed. I wasn’t sure what I’d find, but this older, hardened version of Gracie isn’t it. She’s far from the hysterical girl I was torn from.
“We’ve been looking for you ever since I got home.” I try to clear my aching throat. “Your parents too. Nobody ever forgot about you.”
“My parents?” Her blue eyes fill with tears.
“Yeah, I met them not too long ago. You look a lot like your dad.”
The moisture swells then flows over, streaking down her cheeks to leave clean lines in the dirt. I cup her jaw and swipe the tears aside with my thumb.
“I promised to get you home, Gracie. I’m going to get us out of here.”
“Home,” she dares to whisper. “No more parties?”
“No, honey. No more parties.”
Biting her chapped bottom lip, she pulls away from me but holds back a full breakdown. I can see it battling to escape.
“I think they’re just holding us here.” She gulps down a lungful of air and shakes herself, burying her hysteria. “I… I heard them talking about some kind of police in the area. Nolan wants to leave the country.”
“That’ll be our team.”
“What team?” Gracie tilts her head in confusion.
“I work for a private security company now. We’re investigating the trafficking ring.”
It takes a second for her to digest that.
“Ember… they said they’re going to kill them.”
“Let them try.” I laugh hollowly.
We fall into silence, broken only by the sound of yelling in the distance. I focus on stretching out my limbs, ankles rotating and knees flexing, attempting to work blood back into my body. The cage is too low for me to stand, but I can warm my muscles up.
Every time I glance over at Axel, terror attempts to inch into my mind. His chest is still pumping, but he has yet to rouse. I have to look every few seconds just to remind myself that he isn’t dead.
“Your hair’s red.” Gracie squints at me across the cage. “Since when?”
“It always was. It was dyed when we met.”
She chuckles forlornly. “Has it been that long?”
“I was held for six years.” I watch her reaction for signs of a meltdown. “The Anaconda Team found me in Mexico about six months ago.”
Her expression cycles through several different emotions, landing on a look of numb shock. “That would make me nearly twenty-three now.”
“I guess so.”
