In The Darkness (Project Artemis #1)(7)

That is, dead before the moment they intended to kill her.

Persephone had seen enough news in her life to know how this would end. They’d kidnapped her to extract money from her father. When they got it, they’d have no more use for her. That’s how this went.

She knew her father well enough to know that he’d hand over any amount to get her back. Marshall Gilmore may have been cutthroat in business, but when it came to his family, he’d move heaven and earth for his daughters and wife.

But just as she knew the reality of her situation, he did too and maybe he wouldn’t give them the ransom quickly. He hadn’t made his fortune by being outsmarted by others. Maybe he’d try to bargain with them. She wasn’t what they wanted. Surely, they wanted money more than her. The problem was she didn’t know if that would help her or hurt her.

Holding back tears at how much everything hurt as she sat there tied to that chair for more than half a day since her last bathroom trip, she looked around at the room they held her in. Nondescript white walls that looked like they were covered in plaster made her think the building was older. Beneath her, a worn hardwood floor reinforced that belief.

Was she being held in a house? She knew they’d moved her after the farm trip, but she’d been gagged, blindfolded, and bound, so she couldn’t even guess where they’d taken her to. Nothing the men around her said gave her any clue as to where they were. In fact, they said little at all, and when they did speak, it was mostly to threaten her to keep quiet and stop crying.

Which she did a lot of.

She wasn’t ashamed of that either. She had every right to be scared for her life, and she’d seen enough patients in the hospital break down when they found out their cases were terminal.

And that’s exactly what her case was.

Terminal.

These men wouldn’t let her live much longer. Once they got what they wanted, they’d get rid of her.

So she had to find a way out and now.

*

Slowly, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to look around at the room in front of her. With the windows blacked out, she couldn’t tell if it was day or night. She listened for sounds from her captors and heard voices talking low somewhere nearby in the building. Their conversation made no sense, mainly because she only heard a few words every so often, but she tried to understand what they said in the hopes that it might help her escape from this wretched place.

Footsteps coming toward where she sat made her heart slam against her chest, and for the hundredth time, Persephone prayed to God this wouldn’t be the one when they pressed the end of a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

The door opened behind her, creaking on its hinges in the way it did every time. It never failed to send chills down her spine as that ominous sound hit her ears.

She craned her neck to see which one it was. The one with the crew cut and tattoos of a skull and crossbones on his face? Or the one with slightly longer dark hair and eyes that harbored such rage she worried each time he appeared that he’d unleash that horrible anger on her?

The one with the brown hair pulled back into a ponytail who sneered in that terrifying way every time he had to come in to feed her or take her to the bathroom?

Or worst of all, the one who always pointed his gun directly at her as she swallowed spoonful after spoonful of that awful food they forced on her. They all liked to let her know they carried guns, but he went beyond using his to warn her.

The pleased look in his nearly black eyes said he got off terrifying her with that gun of his.

Oh God! It was the one with the gun!

“Time to eat, bitch,” he said, practically growling at her.

In his eyes, she saw the hate he felt for her. It terrified Persephone more than anything she’d ever encountered in her life.

This time he wasn’t alone, though. Behind him followed a man she hadn’t seen before. Dark haired, he wore it short but not shaved to his head. He had an angular face and little scruff, but he didn’t look dirty like the others. Overall, he didn’t look very much like a revolutionary, as the rest of his friends like to call themselves.

Persephone watched as the one with the gun handed him the bowl of whatever terrible food he’d brought to feed her. “On second thought, you feed this bitch. Why should I get stuck with this fucking slave shit?”

The new man simply shrugged. “Fine. I’ll feed her. What is this shit anyway?”

Surprised by the question, the one with the gun made a face of disgust. “How the fuck do I know? I’m not a fucking cook. She needs to be fed so she doesn’t starve to death on us, so this is what we’re feeding her. You writing a book? Make this one a fucking mystery.”

Again, the new man shrugged. “Whatever. Just making conversation.”

Waving his gun, the angry one stopped and pointed it at Persephone’s head. “Don’t let her give you any fucking attitude. If she does, smack her. She needs to learn her place.”

A smile spread across the new man’s face. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Don’t listen to her if she says she has to go to the bathroom. She just took a piss a few hours ago.”

He glared at her and made a gesture like he shot the gun and it kicked back in his hand before storming out and slamming the door behind him. Left alone with her, the new guy set the bowl of slop he needed to feed her on the table across the room and picked up a chair in one hand, swinging it around him as he grabbed the bowl again. The motion looked fluid, like he had done it a million times.