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Shane shifts his hold on me, pulling me off his shoulder. “I’m gonna set you down for just a minute.”
My feet touch the cool ground. It feels like stone.
Then he lifts me again, but this time, bridal style.
I don’t know why my stomach sinks.
Then, a moment later, he puts me down on a hard surface.
A table?
“Lie down, Brynn.”
It’s Shane speaking, and he doesn’t sound excited, but he does sound resigned.
“Why?” I ask softly.
“Just do it,” Silvan says.
I swallow, but I recline back on the hard table.
This feels very wrong.
Déjà vu hits me when a hand grabs my ankle and loops what feels like a rope around it with surgical precision. My stomach feels sick, and I place a hand against my abdomen, begging it to settle.
I wince when he knots it tight, just like the night of Kyle’s party.
I can’t believe I’m letting them do this.
I feel insane. I should be fighting them. Why am I not fighting them?
But these are Killian’s friends, and I’ve met some of them. Surely they won’t hurt me. Surely they aren’t that bad.
I mean, okay, some of them killed a couple of guys last night.
Damn, I keep forgetting that.
None of these guys seem like murderers to me.
Well, maybe Hex. I could see him killing someone.
And I guess the one in leather gloves didn’t seem hesitant to do whatever Hex asked him to do, so he probably—
He grabs my other ankle, and loops another rope around it. I hear noise beneath the table, and I assume he’s anchoring the ropes to something down there.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Um, I think I’m being very, very cooperative. Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
A new voice joins the pack—well, a new voice for tonight.
“Didn’t I tell you to drug her? Why is she able to speak?”
Hex.
“We drugged her when he dragged her out of the apartment,” the guy I still don’t know says.
“She behaved herself in the car,” Silvan says. “She begged us not to drug her again, and it didn’t seem necessary, so we didn’t.”
“She was blindfolded when I carried her in,” Shane adds. “She didn’t see anything.”
