Page 50 of Savage Hunter

Screw easy. If someone wants to kill me, they will have to deal with the ugly aftermath and I hope my ghost haunts them until the end of their days.

I turn in a circle. On this side of the raw construction, it’s an open design. The livingroom and dining room are one with the kitchen at the far end. Frantic for a way out of this death trap, I find where a set of sliding doors will go one day and head in that direction.

Movement just past the wrap-around porch has me stopping cold. I backtrack until the moonlight no longer gives my location away. My heart is in a massive panic. I am panting. Another scream finds my ears and I fall into the past.

The stench of urine and blood rip through my mind. My hands shake. My feet are glued to the floor.

Iron bars surround me. I wrap my shaking fingers around the restrictive metal. They are as raw and jagged as the floor beneath my bare feet. Cold light pours over us from long fluorescent lights pinned to the ceiling.

Faint whimpers and chilling screams carry through the bars and constrict my heart.

I take one step toward the bars. Another. I press my face to the cold metal for a better look. The hallway on the other side of this gate is barren. Across from me are more cells. Through the bars I spot several girls who look to be about my age. Dirt smudges their cheeks. Their hair is matted and tangled around their faces. Several sit on the ragged floor clutching their knees to their chest.

“Hey.” No answer. A couple of them are dressed in high-end clothing while others have regular jeans and shirts. Hinges grind. Has my mother changed her mind? Did I anger her somehow and now she’s had time to cool down? That has to be it. She wanted to show me what could happen if I was bad. And I was. I slept with the hired help. That had to have made her furious with me.

I press my cheek against the bars again until I can finally see who walked through the door.

Three men in suits come into view. One of them has shoulder length black hair, clean shaven, and the other has a cigar hanging from his lips and an unkept beard on his jawline.

Neither of them are my mother.

I flee to the shadows clinging to the back wall of my cell. I clutch at my stomach. This is really happening. She betrayed me.

I just have to stay still and they won’t find me. Stay in the darkness and it will protect me.

Warm hands touch my face and I focus on how good they feel.

A deep voice reaches out for me but the words are coming through muffled. Like someone is trying to talk to me while I’m submerged under water.

“Come back to me. Harmonia. Come back to me.”

Wolfe. It’s his voice but that can’t be. Not here.

Rough pieces of cement snag on my dress as I slide down the wall. I loved this dress. It stood for everything I wanted to be. Free, seen as an adult and loved. All it did was serve my mother’s purpose.

“How many failed to sell tonight?”

“Seven, Mr. Volkov.” The third man behind the two in the front has a clipboard like this is any other regular business. Nausea swirls in my gut. I find a corner and empty the little I have left over from…how long have I been here? There’s no clock or anything else to mark the time. No windows.

“Harmonia, my sweet angel. Come back to me.”

There’s that voice again. There’s nothing sweet and kind here.

The one with the long hair nods in silence while the other puffs on his cigar. Girls whimper and cringe as they walk by.

The one called Mr. Volkov takes several steps in my direction and when he stops outside my cell, I hold perfectly still.

Don’t move, don’t call attention.

“You, come here.” An ungodly amount of fear holds me rooted to the spot.

Fingers snap and the third man with the clipboard comes forward, unlocks my cell and drags me out. He tosses me to the floor and I fall harshly to the cold cement.

The one with the long hair grips my face between his fingers and pinches the sides, turning me this way and that. He forces me to my feet.

“This the Primrose girl? I was hoping for something I could sell.”

“It’s her. She’s tainted. Some fucker on the mother’s payroll popped her cherry. Mother said to use her how we see fit and she would consider it a personal favor if we make sure she is sampled by as many members as possible. Make her last so the Primrose name is known.”

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