Page 43 of Whispers of the Dead

I fight against Eugene’s hold, but it’s useless. His grip is like iron and stifles every sound. His body blocks me from moving, from doing anything.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Damon’s fingers gripping his cell’s bars so tight his knuckles are white. Benji paces in his tiny space of his cell. Cole’s gaze is locked on me, his green eyes burning. None of them speak. Not a single one of them dares.

Outside, one dreg answers her. “Zoey, huh? Haven’t come across anyone by that name. What’s she look like?”

“She’s blonde, about my height, hair down to about here.” Emily’s voice trembles with desperation, and it kills me to be this close yet so far away. “Please, if you see her, please help her. She wouldn’t be gone this long unless something was wrong.”

“Blonde, huh? We’ve seen some blondes around. Maybe if you tell us more, we can help you out.”

Eugene’s lips brush against my ear. His voice is like a ghost slipping beneath my skin. “Your friends are smarter than I gave them credit for. Not a peep from any of them.”

Tears burn my eyes, then spill over, hot and silent, when Emily’s voice fades. The dregs’ voice follows her as she moves away, still pretending to be helpful. “We’ll keep an eye out for her,” one says, the lie dripping from his tongue like honey.

Then there’s silence when the voices disappear. Eugene releases me and shoves me against the wall. I whimperwhen my shoulder slams into the hard stone. My legs buckle, and I slide to the floor. My hands tremble when I press them over my mouth to stop the sob that’s clawing its way up my throat.

She was here. She was right here, and I did nothing.

Eugene adjusts his cuffs like he wasn’t threatening to gut me moments ago. His voice is ice. “You’re lucky, but don’t think for a second I won’t follow through next time. One step out of line, and it won’t be you I punish. It’ll be your little friend out there. Now eat your damn food.”

He turns and strides out of my cell before locking the door behind him, and I see red. Before I can think right, I grab the only thing I can, which happens to be my untouched food tray, and hurl it at him. Moldy fruit flies between the bars and smacks him square in the face. One piece even lands in his eye.

His head snaps back, and when he looks at me, his expression is pure, simmering rage. He slams his hands against the bars with a metallic clang that reverberates through my bones. “Try that again, and your new friend won’t be able to do shit to help you. Neither will…what’s her name? Emily?” I freeze, and his smirk turns cruel. “Maybe I should be helpful. Maybe I’ll drop your body at her feet, tell her all about how you sacrificed yourself for me and my men. Then maybe I’ll bring her back here to take your place.”

The sound that rips from my throat is inhuman, raw, broken, shrieking after him when he disappears and leaves me shaking on the floor.

So close.

She was right here, and I failed again.

15

DAMON

Zoey is pacing again, and it’s driving me insane. Her bare feet slap against the cold concrete, and her sharp breaths cut through the heavy silence. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides, and her shoulders are wound like a coil about to snap. She’s been simmering ever since Eugene left, but now she’s on the verge of boiling over.

“Why didn’t you call out to her?” she snaps. Her voice rings through the corridor and bounces off the walls. “Emily was right there. She was right there, and you all…what? Stood there and did nothing?”

I lean against the bars at the front of my cell with my arms cross over my chest. Her anger crashes against me like a storm, but I meet it with unshaken calm. “Because you’d be dead if we did.”

She stops pacing and whirls around to face me so fast that she stumbles. Her blue eyes burn with fury, and her clenched fists tremble. “No, I wouldn’t have. Eugene’s not going to kill me so easily. He went through too much trouble to find me and lock me up here. If you had only called out to Emily, then maybe?—”

“Maybe nothing,” I cut her off. “Maybe he slits yourthroat right there. Maybe he lets you off with a warning and an ice cream cone. Are you willing to bet your life on that? Because I’m not.”

“It’s my life to gamble.”

“And it’s my choice what I gamble with.”

Her features soften, and a crack appears in the wall of anger she’s built around herself. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you would have made the same choice if the roles were reversed.”

Her mouth snaps shut, and I grin. She can’t tell me I’m wrong.

For a moment, the only sound is the distant groaning of the rotters outside. “I would’ve been fine,” she insists, though the conviction in her voice falters.

I take a step closer, letting my bare feet scuff against the stone so she can follow my movement in the dark. “You can honestly say you’re willing to bet your life on that? Knowing damn well that he’s capable of carrying out his threat to have your friend take your place?”

She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance to argue.

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