Page 84 of Warrior

The men who come into this place pay at the door for an hour, they select which one they want, and then… well, beyond that, I don’t think there are any rules. Just don’t kill us, right? But I’m sporting a black eye from an aggressive guy who came in the other day.

He tried to suffocate me, and instinct kicked in.

I fought back. I’m not ashamed to admit that.

But once he wascompensated for his trouble, the guards locked me away from the other girls. They threatened to drug me into an oblivion and offer that guy another pass at me.

Fear rolled down my back.

I babbled promises. To behave and whatever else might save me.

Now, the night ticks toward dawn, and I am the only one awake. I lie on a pallet in the open room, surrounded by other women, but I don’t think I’ve slept in weeks. Not the kind of sleep I need. I doze. Any little noise jars me from rest.

That’s exactly what happens tonight.

There’s a scraping noise, and then a louder click. Someone murmurs—a guard, perhaps, stationed outside. They don’t have to be in here with us because of the cameras always on us. They torment me almost more than the men, because there is no such thing as privacy here.

At least at Terror, I had my own room. A door that locked, albeit from the outside.

I sit up slowly, clutching at the thin blanket covering my legs.

There’s a muffledthump, and then a piercing shout.

Male.

Angry.

Pop-pop-pop.

More girls are waking up around me, and I shush them. I can’t see anything. The moon is gone, shifted away from the window, leaving nothing for me to go on. My eyes haven’t adjusted—it’s impossible in this kind of pitch-black.

Pop-pop-pop.

A woman screams. “Those are gunshots!”

That riles everyone. I leap to my feet and back up, pressing my spine to the wall. The brush of hands across my chest, stomach, as they stumble and feel their way to safety, makes me all the more rigid.

There’s another volley of shots, this time louder, higher-pitched. There’s no softness to it.

Different gun.

I cannot move.

After a long moment, it goes silent. Everyone, everything. My breath even seems loud and ragged. I hold it in for a count of five, then slowly exhale.

The door blows inward. Light from the outer room, where the guards stay and payment is made, that was previously blocked, now floods in.

I glance to the side, checking the women. They’re bunched up together, clutching at each other’s arms, expressions twisted with fear.

I won’t die like that. I think I decided that a long time ago.

Cowering will give me nothing.

It won’t save me.

A man steps into the doorway, silhouetted by the bright light. It sears, but I can’t look away. Can’t stop blinking, trying to get my eyes to tell me what I’m seeing is a lie.

“Artemis?” a rough voice calls out.

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