by H. R. Moore
They were dragged roughly into a barn, then towards an open hole in the middle of the floor, which they were forced to jump into one at a time. It wasn’t deep and they each landed lithely on their feet, several more guards ready to collect them when they landed, the hole’s cover replaced as soon as they were in. They were shoved along a rudimentary corridor and into a small, box-like room, the guards forcibly pushing them down onto wooden chairs, their hands and feet cuffed to the struts, Anita reminded disturbingly of her time spent in Amber’s basement, wondering if Austin was behind this too.
The men filed out of the room as three new figures entered. Two of them Anita didn’t recognise, but the third she knew only too well. Helena? Why would she do this? They’d been gagged, but their eyes flew wide with surprise.
‘So good to see you both,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the unfortunate circumstances, but it was really the only way.’ She sat down, taking her time, making herself comfortable before speaking again. ‘Now Anita, let’s have a little chat about that cylinder in your head.’
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