Page 128 of Hidden

There’s silence and then I hear her voice trembling. "How do you know?" she asks.

I stay quiet for a moment, because a part of me needs her to know there are people looking for us. But what if Miles didn’t make it, I don’t know how long I’ll be here for.

"Because the person looking for you doesn’t stop," I say. "That's just… that's how he is."

There’s another long silence, then a whisper. "Okay."

One word, she’s exhausted and choosing to believe me because the alternative is something I don’t want to think about.

"Okay," I whisper back.

***

I’m getting tired, my arms are hurting, my legs are getting so weak now to stand on them. My eyes are getting heavy, and I don’t know how long I’ve been here for. The door opens, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang, and the noise wakes me up fully.

A man walks through. He’s not one of the ones from earlier this evening, he’s different, and he’s older. He looks like he’s in charge, there’s a lot of bad energy coming off him.

He looks at me, and takes his time about it, his eyes move over me slowly, deliberately, and my stomach turns. I want to be sick as he licks his lips then, smiles.

I hold his gaze. I try not to show fear, I don’t look away, and I don’t flinch. Every part of me that has stood on a competition beam, held my landing, and kept my face neutral while everything underneath it screamed, I use that training right now. I need to focus and I need to be strong.

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. These men got rich from doing sick things.

He reaches out and grips my chin, forcing my face up so I have to keep looking at him. His fingers are rough, they feel like sandpaper against my skin. He tilts my head slightly, examining the bruise already forming on my cheek from the earlier slap. His touch is possessive, clinical, and meant to remind me that I have no control here. That’s something I already knew.

I feel sick, my pulse is hammering in my throat, but I keep my face still. He’s trying to break me, and I won’t give him that.

He says something in a different language. Not to me, to someone I can’t see in the hallway behind him. Then he looks at me again.

“You’re not afraid,” he says, his English is accented, almost mild.

“I am afraid,” I answer. The words come out before I can stop them. “I’m just not letting you see it.”

He studies me for a long moment, then his hand drops from my face. He glances at the camera in the corner, then back at me. His hand is playing with the hem of Miles t-shirt.

“Someone will come for you,” he says. He knows someone is in his system, and he knows who it is, he’s attacked Miles twice now.

“Yes,” I say. My voice is steadier than I feel. “They will.”

His hand moves under the t-shirt, and I try to move away from him, but I can’t. His hand moves up slowly, and I lift my leg, kicking him hard, which only makes him laugh.

“I think I might have some fun with you first.” Then he turns and walks out. The door locks behind him with a heavy, final sound.

Just have faith.

I close my eyes.

He’s coming.

I know he’s coming.

Thirty-One

Cain

The club is busier than normal, but my head isn’t any better than normal. I know I need to sleep, even with the woman I love next to me every night, sleep and the past still come and show their ugly face.

Mason comes through the door, slamming it hard against the wall, which is not the sound I need, but the look on his face is not one I need to shout at him for.