Page 2 of Cipher's Baby Girl
They’re talking about me—sellingme.
A nauseating wave of sheer terror grips me so tightly I can’t breathe. I take a step back, my fingers turning numb, my mind spiraling into panic mode. I have to go. I have to get out of here. I have to do it now.
My elbow nudges the plate I set down moments ago. It slides off the counter and crashes onto the floor, shattering.
The conversation in the other room stops.
My heartbeat slams against my ribcage.Leave, leave, leave.
I don’t think. I spin and bolt toward the back door.
My feet barely touch the ground as I race through the back hallway, shove the rusted screen door open so hard it slams against the wall, and sprint outside.
Cold night air engulfs me. My bare feet slap the damp grass as I race through the backyard toward the tree line. I hear Richard shouting my name, but I don’t look back. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I leave home all on my own.
I head for the dense forest that edges our property.
Branches slash at my arms, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I tear through the tree line, and darkness swallows me. The gnarled trunks and dense foliage slow me down a little, but I don’t stop. My bare feet are already scraped and torn, and they sting against the cold, damp earth. But I can’t stop. Not when I know what’s behind me.
Driven by pure adrenaline, I push harder, stumbling over roots and thick underbrush. My heart thunders in my ears. My mind screams a single, panicked thought:keep running.
My body screams in protest, muscles burning, lungs aching.
The feeble moonlight leaks through the thick canopy overhead.
A soft cry slips from my lips as my foot catches on something and I pitch forward, slamming hard against the forest floor. Pain explodes up my leg as my ankle twists.
That’s when I hear it.
Men’s voices—low, cruel—somewhere behind me.
“She can’t have gone far.”
“Little bitch runs fucking fast.”
“Don’t matter. We’ll catch her.”
I need to keep running. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what happens if I manage to escape Richard and the man he’s trying to sell me to. Life has never extended beyond Richard’s house and the weight of his control.
I don’t know what happens if they catch me, but I have a pretty good idea.
No time to think about that. I’m fleeing for my life, and footsteps are gaining.
I give myself just a moment to catch my breath and assess my injury before I struggle to my hands and knees, dirt coating my fingers. My ankle throbs as I push up onto shaking legs, using a tree to steady myself.
Just as I start to limp forward, I’m caught in an iron grip. “Gotchu, you slippery little bitch.”
Prologue 2: Rose
The metal floor under me is like ice against my bare legs. I think it’s been three days. Three days in this shipping container. I’m not a hundred percent sure since it’s hard to mark the passage of time in here. My body has begun to adapt to discomfort—the cold, the hunger, the constant despair prickling beneath my skin. I've always been good at adapting.
A soft moan draws my attention to the newest arrival in our dimly lit prison. They threw her in hours ago, unconscious and bleeding from a gash on her forehead. I've been watching over her, dabbing at the wound with a strip torn from the bottom of my dress. I wish I could do more to help her.
She stirs again, her one good eye fluttering open—the other is swollen shut from whatever violence brought her here. When she tries to sit up, I slide an arm beneath her shoulders, helping her prop herself against the corrugated metal wall.
"Don't move too quickly," I tell her softly. "You might have a concussion."
The girl's good eye fixes on me, confusion and fear swimming in its depths. "Where are we?" Her voice is rough.
