Even with all that going on, the stall was filthier than I was. The floor was covered in a thin layer of discolored straw and sawdust.
In the back left corner was a pathetic excuse for a makeshift bed, nothing more than a questionable pile of linen with a suspicious brown stain in the center.
I walked over to the rotting piece of plywood and ran my fingers around the edges, feeling for any kind of give.
I tried to lift the corner that had some of the wood already chipped away, but it held tight. I traced along the outer rim, feeling the heads of rusted nails.
“So much for that idea. This thing isn’t going anywhere.”
“We’re stuck in here then?” Takara asked.
“For now.” I ran my hands over my messy hair and sighed.
I really shouldn’t have left the lodge.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mistakes aren’t meant to define us, but it’s hard to think otherwise when they continue to repeat inside your head, reminding you of how badly you’ve screwed up.
I wasn’t trying to throw a pity party. I didn’t like being pitied. But I had to face the facts. We wouldn’t be locked in a barn that smelled worse by the hour if it weren’t for such a half-assed escape plan that I hadn’t put my heart into.
We’d be at the lodge site right now, doing what we usually did.
Travis would still be locked up in a pen awaiting whatever fate Samael chose for him. He’d been brought along because we needed whatever information he had. The man had tried to help us. That was worth some small acknowledgement.
Aside from that, his death had no impact on my emotional wellbeing. I cared more for the proselytes who’d done nothing but their jobs.
I racked my brain, trying to come up with a realistic solution to get us out of this. Our bags had been taken away from us, so the gear was gone. My rainbow gambit was gone as well—it had been strapped around my waist before they knocked me out.
Takara and I bounced ideas off one another and took suggestions from Cherry and Hannah.
When there was no longer any light coming through the cracks of the boarded-up window, and a symphony of crickets had started, I realized the day was gone.
We’d gotten nowhere.
Unable to stand any longer, I sat on the opposite side of the stall.
With my back to a grime-coated wall, I dozed without intending to.
A clinking sound had me waking back up. It took my sluggish brain a second to place what I was hearing.
Chains.
“What are you doing?” Takara’s tired voice lured me from my spot on the floor.
Ignoring the soreness in my lower half, I stood and walked to the front of the stall. The lighting in here was even worse now that it was dark outside, but I could make out one of the men from earlier. Tyson, I think. He was undoing the padlock on the outside of Hannah’s stall. She said something I couldn’t understand, following it with a soft plea.
“Hey!” I shook my stall’s door, trying to get his attention.
He paid us nor Hannah’s objections any mind. She was removed from the stall with little difficulty.
Her hands wrapped around the bars in an attempt not to be carried off. All it took was a rough tug to remove her grip.
“Hold still,” Tyson grumbled, struggling with her in the barn’s aisleway.
His words had no effect whatsoever. She twisted and shoved at him, trying to get away. It only made her predicament worse. Tyson cursed and swung his fist, catching the side of her face with a solid hit. She instantly dropped to the ground, sobbing in distress.
“I told you to stop.”
He yanked her back up by the arm and walked off, leaving her the option to follow obediently or be dragged.
“Where are you taking her?” Cherry called after him.
Still without giving a response, he exited the barn with Hannah. The slamming of the door overshadowed the last of her cries we were able to hear.
“We’ve got to find Poet and get the hell out of here,” Takara monotoned.
I pulled my gaze away from the lines of light beginning to creep back in and took a quiet breath to keep myself calm. I knew we needed to get out of here; that was a redundant statement.
Snapping at her wouldn’t help us any, though. Given where she came from, she was handling this exceptionally well. I wasn’t a mind reader, so I couldn’t tell what was going through her head, but I knew this had to bring back memories of the time she was at A.R.C.
Before Mal and Amo had infiltrated them, her old faction had been running a strict regimen that kept their women severely oppressed, branding and bartering them. Those who didn’t meet whatever ridiculous standards they had were killed.