Page 6 of Scavenger's Oath
I’m going to enjoy slowly breaking her. At least until she accepts her new reality.
Finally, the abandoned police station comes into view. Ugly, familiar, and so poorly insulated.
It’s the only building with both solar panels and rainwater tanks, so we made it our base. I got the power running again and Phoenix handled the generator, though he still uses the fireplace in winter.
Phoenix is still nowhere to be seen now. Probably sulking somewhere. But Zane follows behind me quietly.
I drop her to her feet and shove her towards the front steps. She hesitates like she has a choice, and I see her instinct to run in the way her body tenses. To try an escape while she still can.
She should.
Because once I get her inside, she won’t be leaving again.
And then… in a last-ditch effort, she comes roaring back to life. I almost lose my grip on her when she bites downhardon my wrist. Gritting my teeth through the pain, she sinks her sharp little teeth deeper into my skin.
Zane sees her latching onto me like a rabid dog and steps in just as she tries to bolt. She bounces of his chest and stumbles back into my arms. He growls and she shrinksinto me, whimpering at his wordless warning. His huge war-torn body and burlap mask, enough to scare her back into submission.
Yanking her away, I kick the door open with a sharp crack, my patience fraying to the last thread.
I can barely even see through the fucking eyeholes of my mask anymore. I’m suffocating in here.
The rusted hinges scream as the door slams into the wall and the girl screams too. But there’s no one for miles around to hear her cries. We own this town.
Inside, the air is damp and thick with mildew. I stalk down the hallway, dragging her along, past all the rooms Zane decked out like a home over the past three years.
Her hair keeps getting in my face, wild, blonde strands that smell too clean for someone who's been sleeping in a fucking car.
It messes with my head and makes my dick twitch, piercings catching on my zipper. Makes me want to wrap that hair around my fist.
Dragging her all the way to the back of the building where the old holding room is, she digs her heels in, attempting to delay the inevitable.
Never thought these cells would be useful. We’re not the type to take prisoners. Guess they’re good for something after all.
Kicking the door open, I pull her in. Her breath hitches when she sees the room. But at least she’s done with that pointless screaming.
Good. That shit was giving me a headache.
Dusty desks, discarded chairs and old paperwork sit like forgotten relics, the only trace of life in the otherwise forgotten space. Even the walls are flaking, shedding layers of paint like dead skin.
Three small cells line one wall, thick iron bars offering full view into the concrete cubicles—no place to hide.
Yanking one of the cell doors open, it creaks obnoxiously, and I don't hesitate to throw her in. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough to make a point.
She hits the ground with a sharp yelp, scrambling away until her back hits the wall.
Slamming the cell door shut, I lock it and lean against the bars. Hanging my arms through them, I peer down at her, still catching my breath.
She shrinks away, looking up at me with fearful eyes. Those big doe-like eyes with long eyelashes.
All curled up like she thinks this cell will protect her.
Stupid.
“You should show a little gratitude. You have a proper bed in here,” I grin, gesturing to the tiny cot, wedged between the bars and the walls.
The cell is cramped with the bed and the steel toilet. But she's small, it's plenty for her. A working toilet is a luxury these days and she still has room to stand.
She should be on her knees, thanking me.
