Page 43 of Ravaged
“Of course not. It’s a cover. That, and she brought the harp.”
“Myharp?” I asked. It wasn’t mine; Dahlia owned it, but I was the only one who played it.
“One of the Adler sons called and asked Dahlia to bring it. That’s why we’re here.”
Had Ethan called, trying to give me some semblance of normalcy?
“And they let you go by yourself to Ethan’s room?” I asked.
“I’m not stupid,” Iris said, her tone laced with a hint of defensiveness. “I asked for the bathroom. They’re all too distracted by drinking to pay attention.”
One of the many talents of the Dahlia District servers—Iris, myself, and even Dahlia included—was the ability to create a social atmosphere. Not like a frat boy kegger, but a mood with enough distraction that the club members, or even a room full of Adlers, forgot what they were supposed to be doing.
But my heart sank. I knew that Ethan watched me like a hawk. It wouldn’t be long before he knew Iris was in here.
“You’re okay?” Iris asked. That question took me aback. Was I okay? I was, wasn’t I? I might have been abducted, forced to stay in a dog kennel, and then in this prison cell of a bedroom without any other interaction…
But I wasn’t harmed. I had food. Showers. Music.Ethan.
No. I didn’t have him. I wanted him, and he resisted me.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Good. Cause if those men put a hand on you, I will gut them myself,” she said. She pulled a pocket knife from her back pocket. I laughed. She couldn’t gut anyone with that.
“Theyreallyweren’t paying attention when they let you in,” I said.
“It’s because I’m not wearing my usual makeup,” she said. “Not threatening.”
“Or because you scared that one Adler shitless on his birthday,” I said, referencing Wil. Iris smiled at that memory. “I’ve seen him here a few times.” We settled onto the bed and she reached for my handcuffs. “They probably don’t recognize you without the makeup.”
“Probably not,” she said. She flicked to another thin tool attached to the knife. “This won’t kill anyone, but it will pick locks. Let’s see what I can do.”
She fumbled with the pocket knife and the restraints while I stared at the window. My gut tied itself into knots. There were so many voices out there, their volume growing. I had a bad feeling about this.
“Hell,” she sighed. She threw the knife down. “It’s all right. I was trying something new. Let’s try my old and trusty.”
She pulled out a metal card where she removed different thin instruments, then stuck them inside the hole. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She tried for a few minutes, but nothing worked.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “How about a little help here?”
“What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“Any ideas?”
I thought about it for a moment. “When he first put them on, a panel lit up on the metal. So it looks like a normal pair of cuffs, but I don’t think it is. It’s digital somehow.”
“That would have been helpful to know.”
I shrugged. “I forgot about it until now.”
“No big deal,” she said. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. “We just need to make some adjustments.” She started tapping the different sides of the restraints, but nothing lit up. “Do you remember where the panel was?”
“On the actual rings.”
She ran her hands along it, but still, nothing happened. “Fuck me.” Her chin started bumping up and down like a bobblehead, a tick she had whenever she was bored, or nervous.
“It’s okay, Iris,” I said. I rubbed her arm, the chains between my restraints clinking together. “I’m fine. It’s going to be okay.”
