Page 25 of Fighting for Scarlett

What was going on?

Why were they treating her like the enemy?

Where were her team, and her Prey guys?

There wasn’t a single friendly face, and the uneasy feeling that had been growing inside her ever since she was met with Tate’s open hostility flared so strongly that she was almost positive she was about to throw up.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” Tate murmured above her.

Harder than it had to be?

That made no sense.

“What’s going on?” she asked, hating that her voice trembled. Showing weakness in front of men like this was not a good idea, but she was too scared to rid the shakes from either her voice or her body.

Nobody offered her any answers, and the two suits came up to flank her, walking her between them across the roof and into the lift. Tate and his team didn't follow them, and honestly, she didn't want them to.

Whatever lingering feelings she’d had for Tate were gone.

He wasn’t on her side.

He was the enemy.

These men were too.

Were they Raul’s?

Did he have the kind of reach to have her … taken into custody?

Is that what was happening here?

Okay, she hadn't been cuffed, but it was more than obvious that she was considered a threat.

Instead of being taken to the main office levels or the lab, they stopped at the floor used for interrogations. If she had any energy left for humor, she would have reminded herself she was lucky she hadn't been taken to the level that contained holding cells. While nothing like Raul’s dungeon torture chamber, they weren't pleasant rooms, and she didn't want to find herself locked in one.

Marched down the hall, she was taken into an interrogation room and left alone as the two suits disappeared. The hard metal chair only aggravated her beaten and tortured body, and her dreams of a hot shower, comfort food, and a soft bed seemed to drift further away.

No one from Prey was here, although since she was in the building, they had to know she was here.

That hurt.

Abandoned.

Again.

The people she needed never seemed to be there for her when she was at her lowest.

In the last few days, she’d had the safety of her home shattered, killed a man, been drugged and abducted, held captive, tortured, beaten, whipped, and drugged again. Was it too much to ask to at least have someone who cared about her here at her back?

Although she guessed their absence only proved they never really cared about her.

When the door edged open, Scarlett forced away her fear, ready to demand answers, but it wasn’t the suits, it was Dora Hibbert, the office receptionist.

Not who she had expected.

Creeping into the room, the woman quickly set a steaming cup of tea and a sandwich on the rickety metal table. “Sorry, it’s not much, but I'm sure you must be starving. I made you some tea, I know how much you love it.”

Touched by the only little bit of kindness she’d been shown, Scarlett promptly burst into tears. “Thank you,” she managed to get out. “Do you know why I'm being treated like this? Do you know what they think I did?”

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