“Polaris,” I try again, but any hope of my sister being nearby dies every second I don’t hear her voice.
My sister’s name bounces off the enclosure. One door, small and cold. It has to be a basement of some kind. I think. Not that I can see the walls, but I feel their oppressive weight closing in all the same. Maybe not a basement. A dungeon? Oh, God. I listen for dripping water. The little squeak of mice.
“What are you? Back in medieval days? Get a grip.” There are far worse places than basements and dungeons. I learned that truth the hard way.
I can feel old panic rise to settle in the pit of my stomach gurgling and spewing venom into my veins.
Trembling fingers make for real shitty tools. I can’t seem to get a grip on the metal cuff digging into my skin. I tear at it, scrape and slap but nothing frees me from the locked brackets.
“This can’t be happening. Not again.” I squeeze my eyes closed and try to calm the frantic lurch of a monster in my throat threatening to cut off my air.Not again, not again.“Breathe.” I remind myself, but it’s no use.
“Ellie. Polaris.” I whisper into the shadowed darkness but there’s no answer.
Fuck. It’s cold in here, making my fingers stiff as I try to grab at the chains holding me in place. “Here goes nothing,” I mutter to the darkness and lean my entire weight into pulling on the chains. This time I’m rewarded with the sound of old metal breaking.
“Thank you sweet baby Jesus!” What sounds like chains feeding through a metal ring ricochets off the walls and I fall on my ass. Hard. My small victory is cut off when I land on something semi-soft.
I freeze. Oh, God. As in a body kind of semi-soft. I shudder and twirl around.
I try not to freak out when my fingers make contact with something other than cold stone. But my cool demeanor doesn’t last long. I rush to my knees and move forward scraping skin as I go. Cloth feeds through my fingers and I recognize the feel of sequins in my hands. My best friend had on a dress made of them tonight.
“Ellie. Ellie. Is that you? Oh, thank God! Why didn’t you answer me?”
Shaking her, a sudden flood of relief fills me. “Have you seen Polaris?”
Nothing.
“Ellie? Ellie, answer me.” When I don’t hear the familiar softness of her voice, the panic I’ve held at bay up until now collides with the fear inside me.
“Ellie?” I try not to scream or let my fear control my voice but it’s nearly impossible. My heart races so fast my fingers and limbs turn from ice to trembling fire. Not enough light filters through the door cracks for me to see her face and that is driving up my fear levels so severe I can’t control the shaking.
I nudge her, but nothing. Not even a flinch or mumble. “Ellie, wake the fuck up already!”
I clamor in the shadows for the edge of the wall and shuffle my way to the door, but I’m drawn up short by the remaining shackle. I give it a hard tug but this one is not budging.
It’s a good foot and a half too short, but I’m not letting that stop me. Panic sends my heart racing so hard dots dance in my vision. I have to do something. Helplessness is paralyzing. Stretching until I nearly lose feeling in my shackled foot, I manage to ball a fist and bang on the door. “Help,” I scream.
The deep tones of men talking feed through the door when it suddenly bursts open sending me crashing to the floor and landing hard on my ass.
My eyes snap to the burst of light around two large beasts who prowl through with the smell of cigar smoke and pricey alcohol clinging to them. My gaze drops to Ellie’s face and that’s when I see she’s more than not just answering me. She’s a deathly shade of purple. My heart clenches.No, no. This can’t be happening. I scramble to her but bear-like hands clamp around my bicep and I fight against them to clutch my best friend to me. “Something’s wrong. Help me. Something’s wrong with her. She’s not breathing.”
I’m shoved aside as the two asshats shoulder inside my… tiny cell? Where the fuck am I. The room can’t be more than ten by ten. What the holy fuck! “Get the fuck off of me!” I kick out and my bare heel lands with a satisfying grunt from the beast trying to manhandle me.
“Do you want to die?” he bellows holding his junk and trying to grab me with his other meaty hand. Unfortunately for him, I’m faster and have no problem playing dirty.
“What the hell kind of question is that? Do you really want an answer?” There’s a fifty-fifty chance my mouth is going to get me into trouble but, hey, I’m more of a ride or die kind of chick. Balls to the wall. Nobody is going to get the best of me. Not without a fight first.
I scramble to my feet and move into a crouching position over my friend. “She needs help,” I blurt, uncaring of my wellbeing when a gigantic hand swings out to catch me across the face from the one with the thick brown cancer stick clenched between the fingers of his other hand.
I catch a thick Russian accent in time with hard knuckles across the high part of my cheek. The force from the blow knocks me into the corner. No sooner do I hit the wall do I bounce right back out with my fists swinging. I know both men are bigger than me, but I’ve never let size or my lack of fighting skills determine my fate.
“Stupid. Don’t damage the fucking merchandise. Fucking idiot.” That’s Beast One. He’s larger than his friend and lumbers deeper into the room, thrusting a shoulder into the other beast.
Broad shoulders encased in black material block out the light but there’s enough of it to where I can see the malice on their acne-scarred faces. I flatten my fingers, spread my thumb to create a V shape. Putting my weight behind it, I strike Beast Two with a punch to the throat, loving the sound of him instantly regretting getting in my face.
His cigar tumbles to the floor.
I lunge for it and drive the embers of burning tobacco into the closest piece of skin—his face. “How do you like that, asshole?” I dodge another swinging fist.