Page 64 of Whispers of the Dead

“Let’s see how defiant you are after I’m done with you.”

My pleas are lost to Eugene’s barking orders and Benji’s and Cole’s frantic efforts to get to me. Before I know it, I’m being dragged out of the cell block and separated from my guys once again.

25

DAMON

Ifloat somewhere between darkness and light, caught in a void where I can’t move, can’t think, can’t escape. The world around me is muffled and warped, with sounds drifting in and out like a broken radio. Voices cut through the fog, only to be swallowed up again.

“Damon, wake up.”

Zoey’s voice. It cuts through the haze, soft and pleading, wrapping around me like a tether, pulling me toward consciousness. I want to reach for her, to tell her I’m here, but my body doesn’t respond. My limbs feel like lead, heavy and useless.

“Let him go. You don’t have to do this, please.”

Her words shift from firm to sharp and desperate. They echo, fading in and out. Sometimes right next to me, and other times far away. I try to open my eyes, but my vision swims with shadows and light twisting together into something unnatural.

Then, a jolt of movement, and I’m falling.

No, not falling. Being dragged. Stone and concrete burn my back as I’m dragged along.

“Damon!”

Zoey’s voice again. Louder this time. Closer.

A sharp burn ignites down my arms when my wrists are wrenched behind me into a pair of tight metal cuffs. My feet scrape against the ground, trying to gain perch on the concrete. My knees buckle, and hands yank me upright again.

The world tilts.

The haze in my mind thins, peeling back layer by agonizing layer. Fresh air slams into my lungs. It’s sharp, cool, and carries the scent of rot and decay. Sunlight slices through my vision like a knife, burning my retinas when I finally force my eyes open. Wait, is that sunlight? I haven’t seen the sun in so long; I forgot it could be so bright.

Then something hard hits across the back of my legs and I’m shoved to my knees. My heart kicks against my ribs when I take in my surroundings. We’re outside.

It’s take me a second to comprehend it, to truly absorb it. The stretches overhead in a vast, almost unnatural shade of blue after so long in the dark. The ground beneath me is hard concrete, but when I tilt my head back, I realize where we are: a rooftop.

The edge is a mere step away. The sounds of growling rise from below, and when I glance over my shoulder, my stomach churns.

Rotters. Dozens of them, maybe more. Their groans rise in a frenzied chorus, with their skeletal fingers clawing at the air, as if they can already smell my blood and taste my flesh.

A cruel, familiar voice snaps me back. “It’s time to choose, Zoey.”

My head jerks up. Eugene.

Then I see her. Zoey. My blondie. She stands only a few feet away with her long golden hair catching the light, but it’s her blue eyes that are wide with fear that sets the reality of the situation.

For the first time, she’s really seeing me. Not just as a voice in the dark. Not only the man behind the bars. Me.

And I fucking hate it.

Not like this. Not cuffed and beaten, my life hanging by a thread, and my worth measured by the whims of a sadistic bastard. Weak and at his mercy.

Now she’s going to see how weak I really am, how I’m not worth her time or her love like she thought.

“Zoey,” I rasp out. My throat is raw from the damn taser. I try to move toward her, but a dreg shoves me down with a hand on my shoulder.

The movement makes me sway just over the edge, and I glance down again to where the hungry dead wait below. Their jaws snapping, their bodies pressing together in a writhing mass of hunger and death. They reach for me like starving animals. Bile rises in my throat.

“It’s time.” Eugene steps closer to Zoey, his voice oozing false kindness. He brushes her golden hair behind her shoulder and runs his dirty fingers along her smooth neck. “If you choose me, then you’ll get out of that filthy cell. You’ll have clean clothes, good food, and all the insulin you’ll ever need. No more fighting to survive. You’ll be a queen.”

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