The night passed slowly. He dozed but was awake long before dawn. He dismantled his tent and stored his gear. He didn’t want the small details to slow him down later if the target did show up this morning. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long.
Heavy fog blanketed the mountain obscuring his view. It seemed the universe was on his side this morning. The target would never see him coming.
The sound of footsteps on the trail caught his attention. He worked his way to the red oak tree and peered through the fog. He could just make out someone coming down the trail. The person was almost to the turn in the trail where it passed by him. He could see her now. She was alone. It was time. This was his lucky day.
He counted her footsteps, clicking off each pace until she stepped onto the path next to him. He struck her hard across the face and she crumpled into a pile in the middle of the path. He grabbed her by the shoulder straps of her pack and dragged her off the trail into the thicket of laurel. Moving quickly, he slid the sleeve of her jacket up her arm and deftly inserted the needle beneath her skin.
“Gotcha. Welcome to the game, Greyson Cooper.”
Once he was certain she was out for a long nap, he removed her pack, tied her hands, and placed tape over her mouth just in case she did wake up before he had her secure. He put her pack on his back and grabbed his gear before heading for the van. To anyone who might see him, he would just be another hiker. He would get the gear to the van to make sure it was clear before moving the target.
All clear. He tossed the gear inside and looked around the area one last time. Everything was quiet. There wasn’t even any traffic on the road. Convinced the timing was right, he went back for Greyson.
He smiled down at her, gloating inwardly about the bruise forming on the side of her face. He would have liked it if she had seen the hit coming. He loved that moment of surprise in a target’s eyes just before they went down. Unfortunately, that had been too much of a risk this time. He would just have to find another way to have his fun with this one.
She was heavy for a woman. All that damn muscle made her harder to handle than he had expected. Once back at the van, he didn’t waste any time. He laid her on the floor, strapped her hands to the rings welded to the walls, and shut the door.
“Bagged and tagged. Time to get paid.”
* * *
Greyson woke to a pounding in her head as if she had spent the night drinking. She squeezed her eyes tighter against the jackhammer making mush of her brain. She tried to roll over, but pain pierced her hands and shoulders when she moved. An alarm sounded in her mind. Something was very wrong.
She opened her eyes with sudden urgency, realizing the ground beneath her was cold. Her body was stiff as if she had been lying in one position too long. Had she fallen and hit her head?
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light as she searched the area around her. She was in a room. What little light filtered in illuminated stone walls and iron bars for a door. What the hell? Why was she in jail?
She shifted, moving as little and as slowly as possible. Clammy sweat clung to her skin and mingled with tears running into her hair that was now slick with the sickening smell of fear. What happened to her? How had she gotten here? She fought through the fog of her memories. She remembered getting up early and heading out on the trail. It was early morning and the fog hadn’t yet lifted. But after that, her memory was blank. She worked her jaw, confused by the pain and stiffness.
Someone hit me.
The harder she tried to remember, the more frustrated she became. Her memory was just too fragmented. The answers weren’t there.
She started to panic. Someone had attacked her. She had no idea where she was or how to get out. She fought the urge to scream. She went to the door.
“Hey, is anyone there? What the hell’s going on? Why am I here?” Her voice was coarse and it hurt to speak.
“Shh,” someone hissed from nearby. “You have to be quiet.”
“Why?”
Greyson’s heart pounded against her chest as if it too were trying to escape the prison around it. She focused on her surroundings. She needed information. She had to figure a way out of this. She listened, trying to hear beyond the pounding of her own heart. She held her breath to quiet the rush of air from her lungs. In the stillness, she heard the faintest whisper of voices in the distance.
“Who’s there?” Greyson said softly.
She strained to hear the whispered conversation, desperately hoping to learn who was behind this and where she was being held. But the voices were too faint and too far away for her to make out the words. She thought she heard a woman crying but couldn’t be certain.
She took a deep breath and licked her lips. Her mouth was dry and her throat hurt.
“Hello, someone tell me what’s going on,” Greyson croaked.
The words came out garbled and barely audible. She licked her lips again and swallowed.
“Hello,” she tried again.
The whispers stopped.
“Hello? I know you’re there.”
“Be quiet,” a voice said from somewhere nearby.
Greyson jerked her head in the direction of the voice, straining to see through the dim light.
“Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You’re in hell,” another voice answered. This one was gruff and low, but definitely female.
“Just be quiet,” the first voice said again. This one was also female. “He’ll come for you soon enough, and you’ll know more than you want to know.”
“He who?” Greyson asked, clinging to the faint voices with the desperation of trying to breathe through a straw.
“He calls himself the Recruiter,” the first voice answered.
“We call him the devil,” the second voice said.
Greyson’s stomach clenched at the implication in that one word. Understanding dawned. She had been abducted. “Shit.” She wasn’t even scheduled to check in with Dawn again for days. No one would have any idea she was missing. If anyone did look for her, they’d think she was still on the trail somewhere between Hot Springs and Mount LeConte.
Greyson closed her eyes and groaned, realizing how screwed she was. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Samone,” the first voice answered. “And the woman next door to you is Raquel. We’ll meet soon enough. Just be quiet now and rest.”
“You’ll need it,” Raquel said through the wall next to hers.
“Why am I here?” Greyson asked.
Silence was her only answer.
* * *
Greyson woke to the smell of mold and mildew mingled with the stench of stale sweat and fear. It was impossible to tell what time it was or how long she had been in this place. She had no idea if it was night or day. The only light filtered through her cell door from industrial metal lights strung from conduits along the ceiling in the hall.
She rubbed her hands over her sore wrists. She was certain now that she had been drugged. There was no other explanation for the time she had missed.
Greyson pressed her face against the bars and peered down the hall. Several more cells lined the corridor. The cells were staggered so no room was directly across from another. She pulled at the door and worked at the lock until her fingers were sore. The echo of footsteps on the stone floor startled her and she retreated into the darkness of her cell.
The room was empty except for a small cot, a sink, and a toilet. It was a prison. There was no window and nowhere to hide. She had no way to defend herself.
The footsteps stopped at the end of the hall. She heard metal scrape against metal as if something was being slid across the metal bars.
Greyson went back to the door, cautiously peering down the hall again. She could see a man in gray coveralls carrying a tray to one of the cells. He pushed a small metal cart, and he stopped briefly by each occupied cell. The smell of food wafted through the air, making her stomach churn. It must be dinnertime. A thread of relief mingled with her terror.
If they were bringing her food, at least she knew she wouldn’t starve to death.
As the cart came closer to her cell, Greyson forced herself to remain at the bars, despite her overwhelming urge to hide. The cart stopped outside her cell and an older man with dark eyes peered at her beneath thick wooly eyebrows that ran from one side of his brow to the other, creating a thick ridge that shadowed his eyes. His hair was white with a hint of black hovering at the back of his head. His gaze was menacing. She imagined him as Santa’s evil twin. He stared into her eyes as if measuring some quality about her. His mouth twitched, making the whiskers of his thick mustache bristle like the quills of a porcupine.
The man pulled a metal tray from the cart and slid it through a thin slot in the bars.
“Let me out of here,” Greyson demanded.
“Take the food, stupid woman, and keep your mouth shut,” the old man responded, his voice a deep growl.
“Why are you keeping me here?”
He smiled. “You have a job to do. Now take the food or starve, I don’t care either way.”
Greyson took the tray of mashed potatoes with gravy that had strange lumps in it, which she assumed were chipped beef. She wanted to throw the food in his face. She wanted to scream and demand to be set free, but something in the look in his eyes dared her, as if that was exactly what he expected her to do.
She knew there was no way she could get out on her own. This guy wasn’t about to give her any help or information. But she wouldn’t get anywhere making enemies.
He handed her a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” she said. “Who are you?”
He grumbled nonresponsively and left.
Greyson looked at her tray of food and single bottle of water. She needed to eat, but the smell of food made her stomach revolt. She put the tray on the floor by the door. The water she would keep.
The old man returned an hour later to retrieve the trays. Two other very large men were with him.
“Put your hands through the bars,” the largest man ordered.
“Why?” Greyson asked. As much as she wanted answers, she was afraid of what was going to happen next.
“Do as you’re told and we won’t have to kick your ass,” the second man snapped.
Hesitantly, Greyson complied.
They led her down the corridor to a set of concrete stairs. They made several turns down various hallways until Greyson was thoroughly lost, besides not knowing where she was to begin with. They stepped through a set of large, heavy doors into an expansive room with concrete floors surrounding what looked like an indoor pool. All the water had been drained.
Greyson flinched when the doors opened behind her and two women were escorted into the room and led into the pit. What the hell was all of this about?
A tall, thin man stepped out of the shadows. He faced Greyson. “I understand you’ve been asking questions. Since you’re so eager to learn, I arranged this little demonstration for you. Pay close attention—this will be your only tutorial. I’m sure you’ll get the idea.”
He stepped aside. Rough hands pushed Greyson to the edge of the pool until she was peering into the pit. The two women stood facing each other, their heads bowed. They were flanked by two more large men.
“Begin,” the thin man ordered.
The two men pushed the women toward each other.
To Greyson’s horror the stocky brunette put up her fists. The second woman with the long jet-black hair launched toward the brunette, delivering a flurry of punches.
The shorter, stockier woman blocked most of the blows, but several hit their mark. Her lip was bloody and swollen, and she guarded her left side with her elbow.
What the hell was all this about? Greyson’s body shook with rage and revulsion. She tried to pull away, but the hands gripping her arms tightened, holding her firmly in place.
She watched helplessly as the taller woman delivered blow after blow. In a sudden turn of events, the stocky woman struck out, landing a fierce punch to her opponent, knocking her off balance. Before the tall woman could recover, she took two more blows to the face. She stumbled, then fell into a heap on the floor.
Greyson’s breath came in gasps as she fought against the horror playing out in front of her. She wanted to run. She had to get the hell out of this place. She pushed and pulled against her captors and kicked at their shins, trying to break free.
“Let me go. You can’t keep me here!”
The thin man laughed. “There’s the fight we were looking for. I assume you understand your position now.”
He turned to the men. “Take her back to her cell.”
Greyson fought against the men every step of the way back to her prison. They threw her into her cell and shut the heavy metal doors behind her. She jumped up and grabbed the bars, shaking them with all her strength until she was exhausted. Nothing made sense. She didn’t understand what was happening. She was alone and scared, and no one even knew she was in trouble.
* * *
Heavy footsteps and the rattle of the food cart signaled the return of the old man. Greyson unfolded her long frame from her cot and went to the door. The long hours of the night had crept by like grains of sand slipping through cracks in a wall of stone, threatening to bury her alive. The silence had drilled into her mind like pricks of a needle. She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, images of the two women fighting filtered into her mind. She didn’t understand what this place was or who these people were, but it was painfully clear why she had been brought here.
“Hi,” Greyson said when the cart stopped outside her door. “My name’s Greyson. What’s yours?”
The man didn’t answer, just handed her a tray.
“You look like my uncle Dan. He was an electrician in the coal mines when I was a kid. He had hands the size of shovels and spent every free moment in the woods around his home.” She accepted the tray. “Thanks.” She set the food on the floor and reached for the bottle of water. “Uncle Dan didn’t talk much either.”
He stared at her unblinking. “Eat. You’re going to need your strength.” He handed her another bottle of water.
She smiled as he turned and pushed the cart farther down the hall. She knew she couldn’t fight her way out of captivity, but maybe she could kill them with kindness.
Breakfast consisted of eggs, oatmeal, and toast. There was no coffee, which was cruel—no coffee and no flavor. But this time Greyson ate every bite of her meal. She planned to get out of this hellhole and she couldn’t do that if she let herself starve.
She didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she knew she didn’t want to push her luck by asking more questions. She knew she would find out more than she wanted to know soon enough.
At the sound of keys rattling against a cell door, Greyson jumped to her feet, sending her tray skittering across the floor. She eased up to the bars and peered down the hall.
The big man from the day before stepped in front of her cell, making her jump. “You know the drill, princess. Let’s go.”
Greyson didn’t argue this time. She doubted anything could get through to these blockheads. She would go along with this part, but there was no way she was going to participate in this sick game.
This time the room with the pit was bustling with people. Men surrounded the pit and others guarded the doors as the women were brought in to fight.
Greyson counted five other women besides herself.
A dark-haired woman with bronze skin, perhaps of Hispanic origin, and a blond white woman were the first two led into the pit. The blonde was fast and moved around the pit like a fox ready to pounce on its prey in a henhouse. But the other woman was crafty and patient. She waited for her opponent to come to her.
The men standing around the pit sneered and hurled insults at the two women, elevating the fevered tension in the room.
The blonde danced around and attacked in bursts of violent punches before retreating again. After the third attack, the Hispanic wom
an seemed to catch on to the pattern and struck with a fierce blow to the blond woman’s face. The skin above her eye split open and blood poured down her face.
Greyson shut her eyes, wanting to block out the brutality playing out in front of her. A sudden burst of cheers forced her to open her eyes. The blonde had the Hispanic woman backed against the wall and was hitting her with a series of punches to the side and face. The beaten woman did her best to cover her head with her arms as blow after blow crashed into her.
At last someone blew a whistle and the fighting stopped abruptly. The women were removed from the room while the men laughed, celebrated, and made bets on the next fight.
The big man behind Greyson shoved her in the back, pushing her toward the pit. She was up next.
Greyson stumbled into the pit with the reluctance of a doe stepping into an open field. Fear blinded her reasoning as her flight or fight instincts took over. She looked around the edge of the pit at the men glaring and sneering down at her. They taunted her and spat at her like she was nothing more than a piece of trash. The noise and the stench were disorienting. She spotted the thin man grinning down at her as if daring her to defy him.
Greyson glared back.
Her attention was suddenly drawn back into the pit as her opponent was led in. She had beautiful dark skin with long black hair that had been braided down her back. Her eyes were the color of midnight and bore dark shadows as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her cheeks and lips looked like they had been sculpted by an artist. Even in this terrible place, she was beautiful. The only blemish to her features was a scar below her left eye from a wound that hadn’t healed properly. As she came closer, Greyson saw a bruise on her chin that hadn’t had time to heal.
This woman had already seen her share of violence delivered here. As Greyson looked into those midnight eyes, she could see the damage they still bore. Greyson found her courage. She would not be a pawn in this sick game, and she refused to add to this woman’s pain.
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