Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Slowly, her head lifts, and her eyes are so heavy it’s clear she’s heavily drugged. Is that what he’s doing to all these women? Drugging them so they’re quiet?
“You’re in hell,” she croaks, then drops her head back down.
My blood runs cold, and as much as I try to get her to tell me more, she doesn’t move. I’m forced to sit back, the grass scratchy against my legs, as I try to process what the hell is happening here. I know one thing is for certain, I’m not letting him drug me the way he has drugged them. I’ve watched enough true crime documentaries to know that if I let him drug me, I’ll never escape.
I’m getting out of this place.
I have to.
If I give up, I’ll probably die, and I’m not going to allow that to happen.
Closing my eyes, I take a few calming breaths.
I’ve imagined this scenario before, well, not this one exactly but with the amount of true crime I listen to, I’ve often thought about what I would do if I were to be caught. Never, in my wildest imaginings, did I think it would ever actually happen. Still, I have to pray it was a good thing that I thought about it so much. It might just help me in this situation. I can only pray, at least.
The first thing I know for certain is that I can’t break.
No matter what.
It’ll be hell, of that I’m certain, but the only time he will see weakness from me is if I’m faking it. The only way I’ll be faking it is if I think it’ll help me get away. Otherwise, I’ll be the strongest, most determined woman he’s ever captured. At least, that’s my goal.
The second thing, I need to be smarter than him.
If he thinks he’s got me right where I want him, then he’ll be more likely to let his guard down. If he does that, then I’ll have the chance to get away. I can’t be too willing, though. Which means to start with, he needs to see a steel wall around me. He needs to believe every move. He needs to think he’s winning.
The tent door flaps open, letting a small ray of sunshine in.
Squinting, I put my hand up to shield my poor vision as it attempts to adjust to the sudden onslaught of brightness. Once I can see a little clearer, I take note of the dark shadowy figure walking toward me. It’s only when he’s up close that I see it’s Marek, only now when I lay my eyes on his face, he no longer looks like a god.
He looks terrifying.
Utterly terrifying.
Swallowing, I take a moment to process the situation. He put on an act to get me here, but the real question is ... What does he want with me?
“I guess we have to introduce ourselves again,” I croak, bringing my knees up to my chest, as if that will protect me from anything.
“You’re a fast learner,” he murmurs, stopping at my cage and squatting down so he’s peering in at me. “But will you do what I want.”
“I doubt it,” I mutter, “but do enlighten me as to what it is you brought me here for.”
He grins, but it’s cold and heartless, not an ounce of warmth to it.
“I need a dancer.”
I jerk, slightly stunned. I have gone over a lot of scenarios in my head, but not once did I guess he wanted me because I can dance. Why the hell would he want a dancer? What exactly is it he is doing here?
“I’ll need you to elaborate.”
He tips his head to the side, as if he’s mildly curious about me. “You’re not afraid.”
Oh, I’m fucking terrified.
“Of what? You?”
He grins again. “Your bravado is impressive, but I assure you it’ll get you nowhere.”
We’ll see.
“Get on with it,” I growl, my voice low.
“Surely you’ve heard of my shows.”
“If I had heard of your shows, I wouldn’t be asking.”
A smirk tugs his lips, then he proceeds to tell me about his show and what it is he does. As he very coolly tells me about it, I do remember seeing it. I have never been, or know of anyone who has, but I do know that it’s huge. Kind of like a circus, but instead of animals and clowns, he has incredible acts like dancers that fly through the air and twirl on ribbons. I hear it’s impressive.
If this is the way he gets women to do what he wants, though, then I will never give him my talent.
He’s a monster.
The worst part is, he knows it, and he’s okay with it.
“So it’s a circus,” I say, as if what he just told me wasn’t impressive.
His eyes flash, and I see I’ve hit a nerve. It gives me a moment of satisfaction.