Blood Lands (Savage Lands #5)(80)

“Sit.” He shoved me down at a sewing machine. “You have a lot to catch up on. And you can’t leave until you finish your quota for every day you were gone.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my thoughts inside. That was over a week’s worth. A typical day’s quota took over ten hours to do.

“Now you better behave, listen to your instructors, and play nice with others.” He patted my head condescendingly before he leaned over, his mouth brushing my ear. “Things have changed slightly in your absence. We have a new way of earning extra credit here.” He stood, strolling away.

Picking up a needle, I glanced through my lashes at the people around the table. Nora was at the far end, Kek and Birdie in the middle, and Rosie and Hanna closer to me.

It was a relief seeing them all, but when I dared another glance up, it was Rosie who peeked over, her face curving enough for me to see it.

My heart leaped up into my throat.

One side of her face was black and blue, her lip split and puffy as if she had been punched hard and repeatedly. The sickness only grew when I could make out bruise marks around her throat. Hanna and Birdie also appeared as if they had been beaten. And all I could hope was they had only been hit. Nothing more. Except something in Rosie’s gaze drove bile up my throat. A hollowness that had nothing to do with starvation. She turned quickly back to her work, Hanna and Birdie doing the same.

Every few stitches, I would do a fast glance across the room. I didn’t recognize even one soldier. All new faces, and brand-new uniforms, as though the HDF I knew had been wiped away.

Stretching my attention to the men’s side, I noticed their population had grown even more in the week. There were new women prisoners, but it was clear one sex was dominating the prison.

Warwick had been put on the worst job, shoveling coal into the fires and cleaning the ashes out, sweat already rolling down his face, his skin red and blistering.

The only person near him was Kitty. She looked horrible. Gaunt, with a busted lip and sagging shoulders. She had given up keeping her shirt on, and it gutted me. They had finally broken her. She kept her head down, putting the ore into and out of the stove.

Ash, Scorpion, Wesley, and Lukas were spread out by the machines, cutting and shaping metal into bullet cases.

No Killian.

“Where is he?” My shadow jumped to Scorpion, struggling to become totally solid, my energy still on the fritz and fighting the goblin metal.

“Fuck.” Scorpion jumped, hissing out under his breath, his head cocking to me.

“Where is Killian?”

Scorpion glanced around, his mouth pressing together before he bowed his head, pretending to work. His shade standing next to me at the sewing machines, as if he felt the extra strain it took for me.

“Probably in the hole. He lost it after what happened. They kicked the living fuck out of him and dragged him away.” Scorpion’s gaze went to Hanna and Rosie, then to the ground. His jaw rolled, fists clenching. “He was trying to protect them. Especially her.”

I already knew what her he was talking about—the image of Rosie being held back screaming. That sinking feeling dropped again, swirling the drain.

“Things got much worse here. Those old guards you knew became feral.”

I had seen it before I left, the wildness that took them over.

Scorpion glanced down the way again.

“What?” I muttered.

“And I think something’s wrong with Hanna.”

My attention went straight to her. This time I really saw how restless she was, fumbling with the stitching like she had lost her basic skills.

Istvan had given her the pills too. Only for a day or two, but what if it was enough? The change happened quickly with Killian’s group.

Scorpion’s shade grunted, our link cut, drawing me back across the room. A guard belted him with a club, telling him to pick up his pace.

I gritted my teeth, feeling the acid burn into my nose and back down my throat. Fury gurgled in my stomach over the pain and torment my friends have gone through, the sexual, mental, and physical abuse they have endured.

A group of three guards sauntered in, pulling my focus. Their egos entered before they did. I had never seen them before, but they trotted in as if they owned the place, zeroing in on one person.

“Kurva!” A dark-haired boy of around twenty called to her, fae essence puffing up his chest, reminding me so much of Kristof, the same arrogant entitlement.

Rosie sucked in, but her body reflected nothing as she continued to sew.

“I called you, picsa.” He came behind her, grabbing her head.

Rosie would always be pointed out, be the one treated as if she deserved being abused because of what she had done for her livelihood. A man forced her into that life so she could survive, and now they blamed her for it. Just because Rosie had sex for money in the past didn’t mean this was no big deal. It was still rape.

He tugged on Rosie’s hair, pointing across the table to Hanna. “My friend Petro wants you. And Josef here wants you, Blondie.” He nodded at Birdie. He clutched Rosie’s scalp, getting her to rise. “Now move!”

“No!” Nora cried out, rising from her seat, her hand reaching for her daughter as Petro yanked Hanna up. Another guard pulled out his baton, striking her on the back of the head.

“Anya!” Mom. Hanna screamed as Nora flopped over her sewing machine, knocked unconscious.