Page 63 of The Hellkeeper

The world shifts beneath me.

Her nails bite into my skin. “I was supposed to be sacrifice number thirty.”

I shake my head, horror creeping up my spine. “No,” I whisper. “No, that’s not possible.”

The village never told us about any sacrifices escaping. It was a well-known fact: no one ever left the village. Ever. Not a single soul was born there and lived somewhere else. I thought I was the only one.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, clutching at my heart, which feels like it might stop at any moment.

All this time... I was with someone who’s just like me? Another sacrifice who escaped?

“You have to listen to me, Amelia,” she begs. “This isn’t right. They have something to do with this.”

Her words turn my blood ice cold. The only thing keeping me sane at that moment is the sound of sirens wailing in the distance.

Margaret’s state is deteriorating. She’s sweating, and blood won’t stop seeping out of her.

“Stay calm, Margaret. Help is on the way.” I try to console her, but she seems to sense her end.

The doors slam open, and two men storm inside. Masked. Massive. Rifles in their hands.

“Nobody move!” one of them bellows.

The restaurant is already on its knees, and panic sets in again. We thought it was over. Where is my Damien?

Their eyes find mine instantly, and I don’t even get the chance to run.

A hand grips my hair and jerks me back so hard my spine cracks. I claw at them, but the second man moves in, lifting me clean off the ground.

“No—NO!” I thrash, kicking wildly, slamming my heels into their shins, their ribs, anywhere I can reach.

Margaret is screaming my name, trying to crawl after them, her hands gripping their feet like it can stop them. One of them slams his foot down on her hand, hard, and she passes out.

Oh god.

I fight harder. Harder.

“Damien! Damien, help!” I bellow. My monster. My shadow. My everything. He’ll save me.

The first man grips my throat, cutting off my air. “Shut up.”

I choke on my scream as they drag me outside. The street is full of people, but no one helps me.

A white truck is parked right at the curb. Back doors thrown open, it’s waiting for me like a hungry mouth.

No.

The second man yanks a chain from his belt.

No. No, no, no—

Cold steel slams around my wrists, tightening until I gasp. The other end of the chain is bolted to the truck’s interior. They shove me inside, and the doors close behind me. The lock clicks.

It’s okay. It’s okay. I try to calm myself, whispering again and again that Damien is coming. He won’t leave me. But my doubts laugh at me.

It takes a moment to realize the giggles aren’t just in my head. They’re inside the truck too.

Linda...

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