“Isabel?” I say, jogging over.
She doesn’t open her eyes until she feels me working her bonds, loosening the rope until she comes free. Moaning, she nearly falls, her legs likely too weak. Who knows how long she’s been locked in here like this?
“Are you Isabel?” I ask, slipping the ball gag out of her mouth.
“No… Isabel,” she rasps. “I’m the… whore.”
Prescott, I’m going to kill you.
“You’re Jacqueline’s sister?” I say, lifting her up in my arms.
She nods, then closes her eyes.
I bring her over to the dungeon’s bed and pull out a sheet. Wrapping it around her, I lift her to her feet and sling her arm over my shoulder.
“Isabel, you have to walk now, okay? I’m taking you someplace safe, but you have to walk.”
She moans, her feet dragging, but she stays upright.
I’m going to have to hope no one sees us until we reach the front door. The guards there shouldn’t give us much trouble — they’re more worried about who’s coming than who’s going — but it’ll still be risky. If they stop and ask questions, we’re screwed.
I climb the stairs and poke my head out the door, looking out for guards, but I don’t spot any.
“Alright, Isabel. Stay close.”
Here goes nothing.
Chapter 35
Byron’s whipping goes on far too long, leaving my body a mess of bruises. When the guards carry me back to my cell, I’m glad to be out of the cold at first, but the frigid winds had actually numbed my skin a little, and the lingering pain of my punishment intensifies as I get warm.
I wish I could stay numb — not just from the physical pain, but to all the horrors I witnessed during the party. It was worse than anything I’ve seen at Walker up until now, and it was just the beginning. Maybe if I was numb I could get some sleep. I spend the whole night moaning, and I’m not the only one. I hear the other women rustling on their mattresses all night. For some of them, this could be their last night on earth? Do they know? Or do they just figure that no matter what happens tomorrow, it’s not going to be good?
It doesn’t help that Edwin and Hunter take turns stalking the cell block, making sure none of us talk. Sometimes Edwin snickers as the women moan, and when I hear it my pulse spikes with rage.
Reed, where are you?
I haven’t seen him or had a moment alone with him in days. None of the guards have said anything about him betraying them, so maybe they don’t know — but there’s no way for me to be sure until I see him.
Sun streams in through my cell’s small window, telling us all that the day has come. When Byron and the guards arrive with Judge Jefferson, most of us are already awake.
I’ve managed to sit up so I can try to be ready for whatever happens, but I am not prepared for the sight of Jefferson’s face. Five distinct, pink lines scar him where I clawed him — the wounds have healed but the markings are permanent. One look at him and it’s clear he was attacked, and likely by a woman.
No matter what you do to me, you will always be reminded of what I did to you, motherfucker.
“Good morning, ladies,” says Byron, seeing we’re awake. “Quinn, I believe you remember my friend Jonah.”
“Hello, Quinn,” he wheezes, his voice weak.
Byron says, “You’re going to spend most of the day together, starting with a private session for just the two of you. I hope you don’t mind missing all the early festivities.”
Jefferson rasps a laugh. “She won’t be thinking about that. But Byron, I need a guard watching us, just in case this cunt tries to pull anything.”
Byron’s smile fades for a moment, but he quickly brings it back. “Jonah, all my men are busy. There’s a ton of work to do. I can’t spare any for a whole day.”
“You have to do something,” Jonah argues. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he adds, pointing to his face, “this one is dangerous!”
Sighing, Byron looks back and forth, then stops, noticing Jacqueline across the hall.