“There are knives in the closet,” she whispers back to me, looking me directly in the eye, intensely wanting the hell out of here.
I didn’t see a closet earlier, and a small shiver goes through me, thinking about how the fuck she knows where the knives are at.
I locate the closet and fling open the door, and sure enough, there is a whole case of knives and other tools, which I don’twant to think about. There also seems to be what looks like used sex toys.
I see a few dildos with dried blood on the ends. Either they were used recently, or whoever uses them doesn’t clean them. More shivers run through my body as I think about either of those options. I shake my head.No,don’t go there; we have to get out of here.
Closing my mouth super tight to stop myself from getting sick to my stomach, I start sawing her zip tie to free her.
Finally, it pops open, releasing her.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, still whispering.
“Jasmine,” she says, rubbing her wrists that look very infected. They are red, completely raw, with older-looking sores. I calculate that she has probably been here a few days, and I try not to get sick again.
“We have to get the others out now!” I whisper-yell at her.
Turning toward them, I start forcefully throwing the sheets off and unlocking all of the crates. Women around my age fall out of them, breathing hard and landing on their shoulders. They must have heard what was going on. All of them look very malnourished, with a vacant look in their eyes. I know that look, the look of no hope. Jasmine finds another knife, and we both get to work on their zip ties.
All of the girls look to her. She must be a leader among them.
I just stand there, completely in shock, not really knowing how to make myself useful, and let Jasmine take the lead on the women.
“We have to get out of here,” I tell them. “Right now!”
Nodding frantically and walking over to me, they form a circle.
“The only way out is through the door you came in,” Jasmine says.
“Let’s go quickly.” I turn around and jog over to the door.
Opening it, I rush out with Jasmine and the girls filing out directly behind me.
I lock eyes on the gate in the hallway that I came through, and all of a sudden, it begins shutting slowly, and I hear the lock as it clicks shut. I gasp when I notice two guys appear behind the gate, smiling wickedly. One guy approaches the gate, pressing his head against it. The gears shift in my mind. He looks vaguely familiar. Then, the realization comes crashing over me. It’s their fucking president—Archer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A few seniors and I are watching TV in the living room, which is across from the kitchen, when we hear the first noise. I pull up the cameras that are in the room housing the sex slaves, which is a holding area before their next destination.
To my utter surprise, I notice Cassidy stumbling in the room, looking around, and then unlocking the crates while both she and another girl are cutting the zip ties.
“Two of you come with me, and one needs to stay here and make sure none of the younger brothers or anyone else comes past the kitchen,” I snarl.
I lead my brothers to the hallway.
“Stay on the other side of the gate the entire time while I deal with Cassidy.” I feel for my gun behind my back as we walk.
One of them slams the gate closed, hiding himself behind a wall and snickering.
I stroll up and place my face through the iron bars, leering at Cassidy. Recognition rolls over her face. I open the gate and get directly in front of her, staring her down.
Without hesitation, I take out my gun and whack her over the side of her head. The other girls start screaming but cower back away from me. That’s what weeks in this place will do. It made them scared shitless of me. Just how I like it.
Cassidy is sprawled out on the floor, blood trickling out from the wound I caused. I bend over and check if she still has a pulse and inspect the head wound. What the fuck am I going to do with her? I start pacing back and forth, puzzled and at a loss.
A lazy grin envelops my entire face.
“All of you, BACK TO YOUR ROOM!” I yell at the girls, swinging my gun around and reaching through the bars for one of the stun guns my brothers are holding. It’s used for cattle. At this point, a gun really shouldn’t scare them after the shit we’ve done to them. But they listen nonetheless, like trained animals, because that’s exactly how they are treated here. The place they are headed to is worse than this, and they’ll look back on this time with longing and haunting memories, wishing to come back.
