Page 3 of Whispers of the Dead

My heart hammers against my ribs, and every instinct screams at me to run. The shards sticking out of the broken windowpane will cut me up before I can put enough distance between us. My only option is to fight. I swallow hard and pull out my knife. This man is three times larger than I am, but I can move fast. “Back off.”

He laughs and takes a step closer. “Feisty little mouse. I like that. Makes it more fun.”

My mind races. I glance him over for any weak spots. Before I can come up with a plan, he lunges.

I move on instinct, ducking under his swing and then slashing behind his knees with my knife. I even slash at his dick for good measure. He sinks to his knees with a cry of pain. Taking my chance, I turn to run, but then another figure steps into the doorway.

Then another.

My stomach drops. Three of them. I’m outnumbered now, and they’re still blocking my only path. Still, I square my shoulders and raise my knife. I’ll fight my way out.

“This one’s got some fight in her,” the second guy says with a smirk that makes my skin crawl.

“Too bad it won’t do her any good,” the third one says.

“She cut my dick,” the dreg on the floor cries out through tears running down his face. His hands cup the front of his jeans that’s now filling with blood.

“Don’t be weak, Warren,” the third one says with a roll of his eyes.

The second one rubs his hands together with excitement. “I love a challenge. Should we give her a head start first? There’s nothing like a chase.”

“Watch out, the bitch is dangerous,” Warren says behind me while struggling to get to his feet, only to fall back onto his ass again. He lets out another howl of pain.

“Clearly you underestimated her,” the third one says with a bored look before meeting my gaze. “Short blonde hair. Feisty. Think this is the one he wants?”

The second one’s grin turns feral. “Only one way to find out.”

Without waiting around for the rest of their conversation, I make the first move and slash at them with my knife. This time, they’re ready.

Warren kicks out his foot to sweep against my own, and I stumble.

The second one grabs me with an iron grip. I kick and twist, but it’s no use.

“Let me go,” I snarl.

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” the one holding me says, then he drags me toward the door. I flail and kick my legs out until the third dreg grabs my feet and they carry me out with ease. “You’re coming with us.”

Warren grabs my bag and limps after us. The last thing I see before they shove a bag over my head is the pills from the bottle rolling across the asphalt before the dreg zips my bag shut.

2

DAMON

The stars never move.

Every night, they hang in the same pattern, scattered like shards of glass in the black sky above the tiny, barred skylight window in the empty cell next to mine. I can’t see much from my cot, only a sliver of the world beyond this cell, but the stars never change. They don’t care about the rotters clawing at the walls, the stink of blood and decay, or the weight of hopelessness and failure pressing down on my chest until I can’t breathe. They merely are.

Eternal.

Untouchable.

I tap the ring on my index finger against the cot’s metal frame. The sharp sound cuts through the silence, making it a little less daunting. The rhythmic clink is the only thing that distracts me from the moans of the rotters shuffling around outside these walls.

“Knock it off,” Benji mutters from two cells down. There’s an empty cell between us to keep us separated. I can’t see him, but I can make out the frustration laced in his voice. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Then sleep,” I reply, my tone flat. I don’t stop.

Clink.

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