Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
I’ve never felt so awful in my entire life. After lowering to my side, I tuck my knees under my dress and pull them up to my chest. The hard metal is uncomfortable, and I’m so very cold. My teeth are chattering.
The only things I’m wearing are a thin dress that falls to my knees and panties. I had shoes on when I was taken, but they’re gone now.
My dark hair is still in a thick braid, its tail is lying across my shoulder. I’m tempted to take it down and drape it around me for warmth, but I don’t want to move.
After several minutes, Lyra calls out to me, “Zoey?”
“I’m here,” I mumble.
“Where are we?” Her voice is weak.
Suddenly, a loud noise fills the room. A siren of some sort. It’s blaring so obnoxiously that my head pounds harder. I cover my ears, but there’s no way to block the piercing sound.
When it stops, I blow out a breath and try to control my nerves. I’m still in danger of vomiting.
“What was that?” Lyra asks.
The alarm starts again, and I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, willing it to stop.
This time, it lasts longer. Several minutes pass before we’re graced with silence again. My ears are ringing from the residual effect of the horrifying blare as if it’s still happening.
Neither of us speaks for a while. I assume Lyra is just as discombobulated as I am, trying to gather her wits and control the need to throw up.
“Zoey,” Lyra finally whines.
Instantly, the alarm sounds again. Is it louder? It hurts. My teeth clench as I squeeze my ears. I’m so uncomfortable. I ache all over, and my body is trembling violently.
It occurs to me that the blaring noise happens whenever one of us speaks. Perhaps it’s meant to keep us from talking. The thought sends another chill down my spine. It’s not a good sign if our captors won’t let us communicate with each other.
When the alarm ceases again—after what seems like forever—I don’t dare utter a word. I hope Lyra won’t, either. The only way to be sure the warning is directed at us is to keep mum and find out.
Minutes go by. Ten. Twenty. I don’t know how long. I don’t feel better. The nausea might be subsiding, but my head hurts even more. I need water. And a bathroom.
At the sound of a door opening somewhere in this…warehouse, I don’t dare move an inch. Voices echo in the vast space. Two guards approach me.
I flinch when one of the black-clad men opens my cage. He drops two items inside, locks me back up, and turns to walk away.
I’m so stunned that I don’t even react or move until it’s almost too late. The two of them are leaving.
“Wait!” I cry out. “Please—” My voice is abruptly cut off when the alarm sounds again.
I sit upright, press my hands over my ears, and close my eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts. Tears roll down my face. My head is so heavy.
It’s not until the blaring noise stops again that I dare lower my hands and blink my eyes open. My breath hitches as I see what’s been placed in the cage. A bottle that’s filled with a white liquid, and…
Oh no.
A diaper.
Not the sort that would fit a baby. It’s my size.
I jerk my gaze toward the cage where Lyra is being held, but she’s on the other side of the room. There are too many bars and cages in the way for me to see if she, too, was given these items. I don’t dare ask since I’m certain the alarm is activated when either of us dares to speak out loud.
My bladder makes itself known. I squeeze my legs together to keep from peeing myself. Did the guards know that? Is that why they brought me a diaper?
And what about the bottle? It’s also something a baby would use. It even has a nipple, except once again, it’s sized for me. Not an infant.
I lie on my side, ignoring the two items. Or, at least, trying to. It’s hard to focus on anything for long. My mind wanders between how badly I need to pee, how thirsty I am, my hollow grumbling stomach, the pounding behind my temples, how cold I am, the nausea I’m holding at bay, and hopelessness.
I refuse to deal with the bottle and diaper. I’m not a baby. Do these men think I am? They shouldn’t. I assume every Venkorian man I’ve seen so far is in his mid-thirties. I haven’t seen anyone who looks older or younger.
I also haven’t seen any women. Where are the women?
My body flinches when I hear another scream. I lift my head a few inches to see that Lyra is being removed from her cage. Two guards in black carry her out the same way they did Rava—by the arms, her body dangling.