Page 154 of Made for Sinners

I opened my eyes again.

I don’t know how much time passed.

The bulb overhead kept flickering, casting long shadows across the walls. The men took turns pacing, smoking, checking their phones. One of them disappeared for a while and came back with a thermos of coffee. They didn’t speak to me again.

They didn’t have to.

Their message had been sent.

And now they were waiting for their answer.

I stared at the floor, my mind spinning.

What would Dante do?

What could he do?

He didn’t know where I was. The tunnel was off-grid. The woods were endless. The SUV had driven for what felt like hours. There were no signs, no landmarks, nothing I could use to help him find me.

But he would.

He always did.

He’d find the thread.

And he’d pull.

And when he did, this whole place would unravel.

I just had to hold on long enough to see it.

The sound of footsteps broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see one of the men approaching me, a syringe in his hand.

My stomach dropped.

“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. I tried to push myself back, but the chair didn’t budge. My wrists strained against the zip ties, the plastic biting into my skin. “Don’t?—”

“Relax,” the man said, his voice flat. “It’s just to make things easier.”

“For who?” I snapped, my voice rising.

He didn’t answer.

I thrashed against the chair, my heart pounding as he stepped closer. The other men watched from the corner of the room, their expressions unreadable.

“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, my voice cracking.

The man grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. I kicked out, my foot connecting with his shin, but it didn’t stop him. He cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening painfully around my wrist as he forced my arm still.

The needle pricked my skin.

“No—”

The world tilted.

My vision blurred, the edges of the room smearing together like wet paint. My head lolled forward, and I felt the faintest tug of my restraints before everything went dark.

37

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