“Understood,” Reed replies, then prepares us for the walk, making sure we’re thoroughly bound with rope.
Byron watches as Reed works, seemingly feeding off our anger. “If it’s any consolation, Quinn, you were dealt a bad hand but you played it beautifully. Darren and I have mastered the game. You were never going to win.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, though I’m acting out for his sake. My anger no longer churns, it buzzes like an electric current. Despair’s jaws yawn wide beneath me, but I’m not going to fall. I refuse to lose hope. I remind myself, I still have one more card: Reed. He’s my ace in the hole.
He takes us both at once, hauling us by leashes. With our arms securely bound behind our backs in tight box ties, and our legs hobbled at the knees, there’s no way we could break free. I’m tempted to ask Reed to get us loose so we could take down Byron and Prescott now — we’d be three on two, not the worst odds. But then there’d be no auction, and all those potential buyers would remain free. As long as Reed can act on our behalf, there’s still a chance this will all work out.
“This isn’t over,” I whisper to Amber, wanting to give her some hope.
She grunts, shaking her head. “Yes, it is.”
When we arrive at the dungeon, Reed lays us on the floor and gets out some more rope. He finishes tying our legs, then bends them back and roping them into hogtie.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says. His lips purse and he leans forward like he wants to kiss me, but he stays back.
“You’re just going to leave us like this?” I moan.
He nods. “That’s right. Now behave yourselves. Don’t make me regret not gagging you.”
Well, that’s just great, I think. As much as I enjoy the way the rope feels around my body — the ache in my muscles from the stringent position, and the intoxication of utter helplessness, right now I have bigger concerns.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer through that,” I say, trying to squirm my way along the ground until I can see Amber. My face burns in embarrassment as I bob back and forth, but it’s slowly working.
“Seriously?” she replies. “You were going to screw us all over so you could escape.”
“No! It’s not true. I made that up so they’d stop hurting you.” I strain against my bonds with all my strength, desperate to get out, but it’s impossible. “I swear! The plan is to fight them.”
I finally turn enough to see Amber, who glares at me in disgust.
“How, Quinn? With what? We have nothing!”
After what Jacqueline did, I don’t think I should risk telling Amber about Reed.
“All we need is for one of us to take a stand at the right time,” I mumble, trying to sound like I believe it. I wish it were true, but it’s not. If we’re going to win, we have to all unite as one.
Amber scoffs. “Sure, whatever. If you really meant to fight, you wouldn’t have made some fucked up deal with Byron, endangering the lives of every woman here. Or am I supposed to believe Byron was lying about the auction?”
I really wish I could have a minute alone with Reed so I could find out what’s going on — did he secure any help for us? If so, when are they coming?
“You know, we really thought you were serious about planning a breakout,” says Amber. “For the first time in years, I had hope. The whipping Reed just gave me fucking hurt, but not as much as finding out you double-crossed us. Do you have any idea how that feels, Quinn?”
The bitch.
“Yeah,” I say, sneering. “I do. Jacqueline was the one who ratted me out to Byron. He and Prescott have leverage on her, so she’s been their spy all along. I get why she did it, but it fucking hurt too.”
The anger on Amber’s face drains; she closes her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “That… explains a lot. If the other women knew… Fuck. We have to tell them.”
“They’re not going to give us the chance, they’re going to keep us isolated from now on.”
She nods, wringing her hands, trying to get loose too. “But what about the auction, Quinn? What was the point of that?”
I inch my way forward until I’m close enough to Amber to whisper in her ear. Under the circumstances, I’m going to trust her, but Byron could have bugged the room.
“Reed’s getting help. I don’t know how or when, but he’s doing it. I know how you feel about him, but he’s changed. He’s trying to make up for his mistakes.”
“I hope you’re right, Quinn,” she whispers. “But what if you’re not?”
Balling my hands into fists — which is about all I can physically do at this point — I say, “Then there’s nothing we can do. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sick of being told we can’t win.” I lean in closer, making sure she hears this, because she needs to. “I trust Reed. I know he got the word out to someone who can help. But if you need something you can do, just be ready to do your part.”