Sam struggled to open her eyes. She succeeded with one, but only halfway. Her shoulders burned. But no fire licked around her shoulders; it was merely the effects of having her arms chained to the wall above her head. She tipped her head back, wincing at the pain in her jaw, and noticed her wrists were red and raw.
As she coughed and spit blood, she couldn’t locate a single place on her body that didn’t hurt.
“Well, well, well. And the chosen memory-bringer awakens.”
She was barely able to hold a thought before being distracted by another part of her aching body, but he kept calling her that: memory-bringer. It cut through the haze. Sam dropped her head again, nearly passing out when it bounced up.
He was the same man who’d dragged her here. Wherever here was. She’d barely been conscious when he’d taken her out of the holding cell. She might have been when he’d restrained her—she had vague impressions of more suffering and jerking—but little felt real or solid.
“We can’t have you thinking you can waltz through any room you please. I’ve taken it upon myself to disabuse you of the notion. This is not a place for you. And though your actions suggest otherwise, I’m going to assume you’re smart enough to figure out your punishment.”
She narrowed her good eye and willed it to adjust to the light. With it shining directly at her, she shifted to the side. Was he close enough to spit at? Her eyes slid closer to the light to find his figure and gauge his nearness. But he held the light in front of him, and her head pounded with pain. Even if her jaw could handle the movement, she couldn’t trust her aim.
Next opportunity, then.
“You’re to stay here—alone, without the usual provisions—for a couple weeks,” he said.
The usual provisions? They hadn’t kept her clothed or fed before, so not getting either wasn’t much of a punishment. He couldn’t take away water; she needed it to survive, and he’d already told her they wanted her alive.
He continued, “However, I’d be willing to let you go earlier for a little information.”
She raised an eyebrow and, as the movement pulled uncomfortably against her face, she grunted in response.
He brought the light closer, making it impossible to escape. She flinched and closed her eyes. “I’ll need to see your face for this,” he explained. The giddiness in his voice suggested he enjoyed interrogating her, that he wanted to see his handiwork.
“Open your eyes.”
When she refused to comply, he punched her in the stomach. The hit sent a fresh wave of pain over her and made her eyes water.
“This will be a lot easier for you if you listen. I’d hate to accidentally hit you too hard and piss off the boss. He does seem to have a particular interest in you.”
She opened her eyes, but mostly because he sounded as though he wanted any excuse to hit her—that pissing off the boss might actually be worth it. And as much as she wanted to rebel, she needed to be conscious for it.
A couple items appeared in her line of vision. “Do you recognize these?”
They blurred, but came into focus after a moment. The blanket the guard had left her and the socks she’d stolen. Her toes curled at the loss.
If he didn’t know about the guard, she wasn’t going to enlighten him. She shook her head no.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical. Though some of our tapes were unfortunately recorded over, I saw enough to know you walked into our storage room without socks and later walked into the lab with socks.”
She let his words hang in the air.
“Right, of course. There wasn’t a question in that, was there? No, I suppose it must be hard to talk with your jaw swollen like that.” He laughed. Smug. “It’s hard to believe you were able to steal the socks and blanket, erase the evidence, but leave the footage of yourself in the lab. None of the other cameras had issues, so I must conclude you had help from someone.”
Ignoring the discomfort, she raised an eyebrow again.
“You can nod if that’s true. That you received help.”
But you’ll just have to wait to find out.
Warring desires fought for dominance. She could tell this guard about Coop—he’d obviously taken enough care to erase his part in it, but left enough to implicate her, so she didn’t owe him any loyalty. But she trusted this guard even less. And her curiosity couldn’t be denied: she wanted to know about Coop. If she gave him up now, she wouldn’t get that chance.
“Your loyalty is misplaced, memory-bringer. We know you had help; it would be impossible to do it on your own. Even with your—shall we say special?—abilities. If you cooperate, your punishment will be far less severe.”
He was saying all the right words, but something in his tone told her he was even less trustworthy than Coop. She shook her head. No. If she wanted to find out what lurked in this building and why they were here, her original holding cell was not where she’d find information. And she’d accepted that punishment was a possible consequence when she sneaked into the other room to steal food and makeshift blankets.
She had no regrets.
Even if Coop hadn’t found her, someone else would have. And she would have been punished, like she was being punished now. To think she would have escaped punishment was foolhardy, but that’s what he wanted her to believe. That her being here was the fault of someone else. It wasn’t.
The light rattled with his frustration. “I know you didn’t do this alone. It appears I have someone disobeying my orders—a mischief maker at best, a traitor at worst—and I intend to ferret him out. I swore I wouldn’t let anything like this happen again. If you don’t help me, I’ll leave you to rot in this cell.”
She didn’t see the choice. She could rot in this cell or rot in the other one. They both involved rotting in a cell. This one had the benefit of agitating the authority. Yeah, she’d take this one.
The light bobbled and lifted from her face. “Since you insist on resisting, I’m afraid I’ll have to do this.” But there was no regret in his voice. He plunged a needle in her arm.
Elusive Memories (The Hunted #1) Page 5