Prologue
Katelyn
Pain. Like sharp daggers digging into my shoulders.
One of them twisted both my arms so hard that both joints popped out of place.
Not enough that they’ve starved me, shaved my head, taken everything.
Now I’m in pain, and I’m going to die.
Die in this place. I don’t know where I am. I don’t care anymore.
Until I hear something. A shuffling. I curl into a fetal position, trying to ease the pain.
It doesn’t help.
Still…someone is near, and whoever it is, the person is trying to be quiet, which means…
“Help me.” My voice is soft, nearly inaudible.
More shuffling. Yes, someone’s here. Someone who may be able to help me.
“Help me.”
“Stop it,” a voice—a female voice, thank goodness, says. “You’re imagining things.”
“I hear you,” I say. “Help me. Please.”
Perhaps I should feel relief, but I don’t. What I feel is more like thankfulness that I’m not alone. For I will die here, and at least I’ll have a companion. Maybe she’ll hold my hand. Maybe she’ll tell me it’s okay.
Maybe she can get me out of here.
“Help me.”
I see her then, her hand clasped to her mouth. She’s blond, and she still has her hair. She’s naked, as I am, and she has two slashes above her breasts that are oozing blood.
She kneels down next to me. “Hey. Who are you?”
“Please help me.”
“Get up. Come on. Get up.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You have to.” She shakes me gently.
I sob quietly as the pain rushes through me with her slightest touch. “That hurts.”
“You can. Now get the hell up!” She grabs my shoulders.
“Aauuuggghhh!” I shriek as the pain surges my nerves into the very marrow of my bones. I’ll die here. Alone. Unloved. Broken.
She lets go of me quickly. “What did they do to you?”
I swallow. “My shoulders. They’re both dislocated.”
“Damn. I’m so sorry.”
“Can you pop them back in?” I eke out. Please. Please. Pop them back in. Help me. At least let me die without any more pain.
“I can’t. I’m not a doctor. I might do more damage.”
I close my eyes. She won’t help. She won’t even try. “Then please. Kill me.”
She says nothing. Just stares at me.
“Please.” I close my eyes. I can’t look at her strong body. She may have wounds, but she’s still moving. She still has a chance. “I’d rather die here than have them torture me anymore. Please.”
“I…”
I open my eyes, then. I’ll make her look at me as she leaves me to die. “What’s your name?”
“Zinnia. Like the flower.”
“I’m Katelyn.”
“Katelyn. I’m so sorry.”
“Please, Zinnia.”
“My friends call me Zee.”
“Please, Zee.”
“You can’t ask this of me. How will I live with myself?”
I scoff softly. “Live with yourself? You won’t live through this, Zee. You won’t have to live with yourself for long.” She may be strong now, but they’ll break her. They’ll break her as they broke me. Maybe they’ll dislocate her shoulders. Maybe they’ll do something worse.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m not a killer.”
I close my eyes once more, groaning. “Then run. I hear them coming.”
She turns her head. “Maybe it’s not them.”
“It’s always them. Now do as I tell you. Get the hell out of here.” I can’t save myself, but I can at least try to give her a little more time.
“I can’t leave you.”
“If you can’t pop my shoulders back, and you’re not willing to kill me, there’s nothing more you can do.”
“I can carry you.”
“Then we’ll both die.”
She glances at me again and then over her shoulder.
Without another word, she flees.
And I wait for them to come kill me.
1
Katelyn
“We hope you’ll be happy here,” Zee Wolfe says to me. She looks radiant with rosy cheeks and a pregnant belly, her honey blond hair pulled up into a messy bun.
Zee—Zinnia—whom I begged to end my life all those years ago, turned out to be my savior after all.
Now, finally, I’m thankful she refused to kill me that day. I want life—a life I have control over once more.
“I hope I will be also.” I smile. It’s a forced smile, but it’s still a smile—something I once thought I’d never do again. “And Zee?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” She smiles, and hers isn’t at all forced. “The Wolfes are happy to do whatever they can for you and the other women who were brutalized by their father.”
Their father and countless others, I add in my mind.
But that’s not what I’m thanking her for.
I pause a moment, as the images of the first time I met Zee emerge in my mind. I can’t forget them. In a warped way, I don’t want to.
“You okay?” Zee asks.
A loaded question. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again. But I can live. Indeed, I will live. I’ll adapt. I want to. I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful to have this new apartment in a building owned by the Wolfes. It’s fully furnished with one bedroom and updated appliances throughout. Hardwood floors, too, which are shiny and gorgeous. I nearly slipped when we first got here.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Don’t forget”—she points to the emergency button by the door—“to use this at any time. For any reason.”
I nod. She was very direct when she showed me the button by the front door and in the bedroom.
“We can always move you to a double,” she says.
I shake my head. “I want to live alone. I need to.”
“I understand. After six months at the retreat center, I’m sure you need some space.”
Though the retreat center has nothing to do with my decision to request a single room in the Manhattan safehouse.
Zee doesn’t call it a safehouse, of course. She calls it a furnished apartment, and it is. Except it’s not. It’s a safehouse—an apartment building the Wolfes maintain for the women who were rescued from Treasure Island.
I clear my throat. “How many women are here?”
“So far, just you, Aspen, and December. We’re expecting another soon.”
“Aspen?” December is Tigereye, but Aspen… Why does the name escape me?
“Garnet.”
“Right. And I’m Katelyn.”
“Only if you want to be. You can be whoever you want now.”
“No, I’m Katelyn. I want to be Katelyn.” I find myself affirming my name a lot. For a while, I nearly forgot it.