The tears restarted, and I let them flow. My sobs were choked and deep, and the ache in my head intensified. My body was a mass of quivering limbs as the last of the adrenaline rush I had been experiencing evaporated, leaving me spent.
How had my life come to this?
The blackness began to gather, and I fought it. I had a feeling if I succumbed, I wouldn’t wake up. But it was useless, and gradually, the world dimmed.
I swam to consciousness, my head spinning. I was nauseated and cold, my limbs stiff and painful. I didn’t move but stared through the dirty glass, confused. The large room I had wandered through before was lit up, and a group of men stood with their backs toward me, arguing. They flung their arms around, gestured with their hands, and their voices were angry.
Carefully, I eased the chair back as far as I could into the shadows. The little office I was in was still dark, and I didn’t think they could see me, but I wasn’t taking any chances. One of the missing glass panes was at eye level, and from this angle, I had a clear view of them. Alarm ran along my nerves, telling me I needed to stay silent. Whatever they were doing here was not something I should be seeing.
There were four tall men, all in black coats. One of them towered over the rest. They moved, and I saw another two people. They were sitting on the floor, beaten and bleeding, tied with their backs pressed together.
I shrank back, my terror taking on new proportions. My teeth began to chatter, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to silence the noise. I had to bite down on my lip as well, and I wrapped my free arm around my knees to try to stop the tremors. I heard the loud slam of a door, and another man strode into the room. He was tall, slender, with broad shoulders, his black overcoat long and swaying around him as he walked. He moved with intent, his shoulders taut, his stride fast. His deep brown hair was long, brushing his collar and slicked off his forehead. His face was sharp angles, a tight beard hugging the curves of his face, framing his mouth. His gaze was intense and furious. He commanded the notice of all the men in the room. They stood taller, their shoulders back—almost at attention. They moved to form a wide circle around the people on the floor. He joined them, sneering at the men who were tied up and helpless. He was facing me, his hatred a living, breathing entity emanating from him.
A barrage of words in a language I didn’t understand came from his mouth. He raged, his voice echoing in the empty room. More than once, he slapped the helpless prisoners, screaming in their faces. His leather gloves shone in the dim light, blood-red against black, wet and dripping. My stomach lurched at the sight of it, and I pressed my hand harder to my lips.
He stepped back, his face dark, evil, and twisted. He was like an avenging angel—straight from hell. He held out his hand, and one of the men placed a gun in it.
He stared, cold and ruthless, then he nodded. The group of men drew their guns and aimed.
I pressed my hand over my mouth so hard, I felt my lip split trying to hold in my scream, knowing what I was about to witness and unable to look away.
“Burn in hell,” he spat.
Gunshots rang out.
The men on the floor jerked, their bodies arched and flailed, then slumped. Blood ran, crimson and thick.
I couldn’t control myself. I twitched so hard, the chair moved, hitting the wall with a low thump. I lurched forward, emptying the meager contents of my stomach onto the floor, panting and gasping for air. I grasped the arms of the chair so hard, my knuckles protested. My head swam from the sudden movement. I heard more cursing and rushed footsteps in my direction, but I knew I was trapped.
“What the fuck?” a low voice growled as rough hands gripped my arms, forcing me upright.
I looked up, meeting a pair of brown eyes. They widened then narrowed, brimming with fury. Up close, his face was beautiful—the sort of beauty that easily distorted into fierce malevolence. A devil in disguise.
“Who the fuck are you?”
His face wavered in my gaze. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. It tilted, becoming dim and distorted.
“No one,” I whispered, before the world went dark.
Chapter Two
Evelyn
I woke to stinging on my cheeks. I was back in the chair, pushed behind the desk. The devil stood over me, his fingers flicking at my skin. I whimpered, and he hunched lower, his eyes black with rage.