to have an intact hymen. Somewhere during the trip to meet her would-be owner, she’d done what she thought would set her free, or at least Dru assumed that was what she’d done.
Nobody would ever know just what she’d done, because when Patrick’s men found her in the bathroom of the hotel and dragged her out to Patrick, she had blood on her thighs. And that prized hymen was no more.
Patrick hadn’t handled it well.
By the time his men were done with her, even her own father wouldn’t have recognized her.
They left her, discarded on the street like so much garbage.
And Dru had made it her mission in life to stop the monster responsible.
* * *
DREAMS awaited her . . . they rose up the second she fell asleep and pulled her under.
Screaming.
Just the screaming. That was all she heard at first. But then, slowly, she began to hear the whispers.
Help us . . .
We’re trapped . . .
The voices of girls.
Beyond that, another voice . . . a man’s voice . . . You’ve got to get away from him. Promise . . .
Such a low, urgent plea.
He’ll kill you . . . a woman’s voice. It was a different voice from the other voices . . . calm and controlled, where the others were panicked and terrified. Sad, though, like Dru’s death was a foregone conclusion.
He’ll kill you if you’re not careful.
Dru was trying to be careful. But she had a feeling she was dead anyway.
He’ll kill you . . .
In the dream, she saw the blood. She could smell it—thick and sickly sweet—hovering around her. She could taste the pain in the air, heavy with horror and despair.
She wanted to run.
He’ll just find you . . . he finds all of them.
But he couldn’t find her. Not if she ran hard enough. She knew how—
He finds them all . . .
In her dream, she struggled to breathe while the sheets wrapped around her like chains.
Gasping for air, she tried to break free of the dream, but all it did was shift . . . re-form. She was no longer running, but sinking. Struggling against the icy waters that sucked her under as the oxygen bled away.
Through the murky dark waters, she saw a pair of eyes, staring down at her. Patrick. And he was smiling. She saw the empty void of his soul reflected in his eyes as he watched her.
Did you really think I’d just let you leave . . .
She hadn’t come here to leave—she’d come to die.
Die . . . yes. She’d wanted to die. Hadn’t she? Water rushed into her mouth and she choked. But if she’d wanted to die, why was she fighting this?
As her life trickled away, as she struggled to surface, her heart ached. Wept. Just let go . . . he’s already gone . . . you can go to him. Be with him.
He . . . ? Who? She didn’t know, but she felt like she should.
It doesn’t matter. Just let go. Then that monster can’t hurt you anymore.
But she didn’t want to die.
She wasn’t ready. Yes, you are . . . isn’t that why you came back here?
“No!”
* * *
I’M not ready, he thought dimly, watching her even as the darkness closed in around him. He wanted to hold her. One more time.
“You must save your strength . . .”
No. That wasn’t what he had to do. He had to find a way to make her understand. She had to get away—had to get away now, before it was too late . . .
“You have to get away from him. Promise me.”
She watched him, her lovely green eyes misted by tears. They were darker, it seemed . . .
“Promise,” he demanded as he realized her eyes weren’t darker. Everything had gotten dark. He could hardly see. Fuck all. He couldn’t see. So weak, he couldn’t move. Desperately, he reached down and pulled the knife from his belt, shoved it into her hands. It was a workingman’s knife, too big for her hands, but it was something. He squeezed her hand. “Amelie, you must run. Now . . .”
He wasn’t ready. He’d promised he’d see her safe. But he could not do that now . . .
Her only chance was to run—
FIVE
RUN—
Even as he came awake, that word echoed through his mind. Joss jackknifed up off the bed, one hand pressed against his gut, where he would have sworn he could feel the brutal, horrifying agony of a