“Gonna get you that shower then get you into my bed.” In case she doesn’t understand what I’m saying, I add, “’Cause you’re fuckin’ mine.”
A shudder goes through her as I promise a future that’s out of my hands. Whether either of us survive the next few minutes is up for debate.
“When I open the door,” I tell her. “You run, got it? Don’t look back, don’t hesitate, just wrap that cloth around your head, cover your mouth and head for the door. My brothers will be there.”
“Not before them,” she responds, pointing back to where the women are hidden in the darkness. “They’ll need some persuasion to run through fire. I’m not leaving any behind.”
Can’t she understand that that’s my job? That I’ll only be able to do it if she’s safe? But there’s no time to argue, and it’s just one more sign this woman was meant to be mine. And she’s going to be if I have any say in it.
But first, we’ve got to get out of here.
While I did my best to block the door, smoke has been filtering through the cracks and the air is getting denser by the second. I flick my lighter to get some light and can barely see across to the rear where the traumatised women are huddled.
I make a split-second decision. “Let’s get the women, then Sheri, you go out first. Carole, can you make sure all the other women get out and I’ll bring up the rear?”
“Uh-uh.” Carole shakes her head. “Soon as that door opens, I’m out of here.”
I can’t see but I can imagine Sheri rolling her eyes. “I’ll make sure everyone gets out,” she promises. I see her head move toward the door, then, as if realising time is indeed running out, she disappears into the thickening smoke.
“Go help her,” I snap to Carole.
But she doesn’t move. “The air is better here.”
I don’t think it is, but the woman who seems to have held herself together better than the rest is not only as hard as nails, but selfish to boot. I have no means to force her to do what I want, so I wait impatiently, getting updates from the brothers outside. What I’m hearing isn’t good.
I bounce on my heels, then, impatient as I hear no one moving toward me, use my lighter again to light the way over to where Sheri is trying to get the women organised. A couple are on their feet and ready, two more are still curled into balls on the floor.
“I can’t get them to move,” she confides, apologetically.
Assessing the situation, realising the time for cajoling has gone, and that Sheri’s probably tried her best, I bark loudly, “Get on your fuckin’ feet.”
One girl whimpers and gets slowly to her knees and then stands. She gives me a wide berth as she moves closer to Sheri. I jerk my head toward the door, and Sheri starts to lead her away. I’ve kept the lighter for myself, but Sheri can easily find her way by the orange light coming through the gaps.
“Move,” I snap, completely losing patience at the woman who’s causing a delay which might mean the difference between life and death. When she still doesn’t react, I’m sorry to say, I give her a gentle kick, just to show I mean business.
Instead of bringing her to her senses, her body falls sideways.
“Motherfucker!” I exclaim as I crouch on my haunches. Somehow, probably from one of the dead bodies I carelessly left lying around, she’s got hold of a knife and has slit her wrists. There’s blood pooling around her.
I feel for the pulse in her neck. It’s there, just, but only a flutter. Closing my eyes and swearing in my head, I realise the chances of us making it out of here are slim as it is and carrying a near corpse isn’t going to help matters. It’s unlikely she’ll survive, and the only sensible choice is to leave her.
But fuck. As I stand and turn my back, I hate that I can do nothing for her. The Dominators had successfully broken her. I hadn’t missed it was her Fang had dragged away and returned after he’d had his fun with her. That must have been the final straw.
If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him all over again. And this time, make his torture go on for fucking days.
This is why I wouldn’t be involved in the Wretched Soulz if they saw women as commodities to be used and sold at their pleasure. Whoever she was, she didn’t deserve the treatment she got at those sons of bitches’ hands.
Though I’ve only got seconds if we’re going to get out of here with a chance of staying alive to breathe fresh air, I feel like a punch in my gut.If I hadn’t found that book, Sheri could be the woman bleeding out here.
“Motherfucker!” I scream loudly, smoothing my hands over my head, knowing that all over the country there are women just like her, used, discarded and thrown away as if their existence doesn’t matter.
“What is it?” Sheri’s back by my side.
Roughly, I pull her close to me. “She fuckin’ killed herself. Got hold of a knife.”
I feel her shudder and her intake of breath, then a different tension makes her muscles taut. “There’s nothing more we can do for her. Let’s get out of here.”
She’s right, and that should have been my line.
