Page 38 of Female Fantasy
“We are, in a sense!” Clarisse says, bursting into laughter. “Tell me, you two: Have you ever heard of Harry ‘the Hug’ Lester? Well, I know you have, Nico.”
Harry “the Hug” Lester. Why does that name sound so familiar?
“Nico,” I whisper, “what is she talking about?”
Clarisse jumps-scares into my face, and I jerk backward into the leather seat.
Nico reaches for his phone, but Thomas stops him by twisting his body at an inhuman angle, placing one hand around his neck.
“Now, what do you think you’re doing, son?”
“Calling the police.”
Thomas shakes his head slowly, making a hissing sound. “A little late for that, don’t you think, boy? Should’ve thought about that before you made a bet you couldn’t back up, huh?”
A bet? What bet? Nico doesn’t make bets. Nico is theantithesisof a bettor. He is risk averse. The literal definition ofplaying it safe.
“Joonie,” Nico murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”
Thomas’s hands twitch, gripping the wheel. He isn’t panicking, I realize. This is all going according to his plan.
Which means that none of this was a coincidence.
These two didn’t just stumble upon us on the side of the road.
They’ve been following us. Tailing us.
We are the precious cargo they’ve been after.
But just who is this Harry “the Hug” that we’re being sold to?
“Take their phones, sugar,” Thomas orders Clarisse.
She turns, reaches into my pocket, and pulls out my iPhone, a smug look on her face. I feel something cold and hard press against my abdomen, wedging its way beneath my top.
A gun. I’ve never even seen a gun before.
Unless you count Comic-Con.
I see Nico reach for the car door handle. Unfortunately, so does Thomas, who turns on the child locks, then leans back to elbow Nico in the temple.
Nico’s head rolls back, and I stifle a scream.
“Let us out,” I plead. “Please.”
Clarisse’s head snaps around to stare at me. “Let you out?” she clicks her tongue. “But sweetheart, we’re only just getting started!”
Nico grabs my hand and squeezes it hard.
This time, I don’t pull away.
After our first full month of training, Ryke informs me that we are going to embark on an adventure. I scoff—simply being in this underwater world that I never knew existed is adventure enough to last lifetimes. But he just smirks and tells me to be ready by moonrise.
I stagger over to the stone dresser in the cavern, barely able to remain upright. Every muscle in my body aches from holding planks and balancing on one foot. My legs shake. My core has turned to jelly. Even my brain hurts, my temples throbbing from solving logic problems, riddles, and puzzles of the heart and mind. I am exhausted, shredded and stuck back together again.
And yet, I feel myself growing stronger.
More sure of myself. And my ability to help the mer.
