or whatever.”
“A chain-link fence,” Gigi answers for him. “Okay. That’s good. What else?”
“I dunno? There was this homeless guy that always slept next to this dumpster.”
I jerk back. “A homeless guy?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he look like?”
“I dunno? Homeless? I only got close to him once, and I was blindfolded so I couldn’t see. But he kept cursing at Sei, telling him to leave me alone. Sei threatened to kill him if he didn’t shut up, though. He kind of talked funny. But every time I’d look out the window, he was always next to the dumpster.”
My breathing is erratic as I start to piece all the information together before realizing the truth. “I think I know where Sei’s been hiding.”
The sound of my bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor muffles out Gigi’s voice, but I don’t stop and ask her to repeat herself.
There’s no time for that.
“King!” I yell. “King!” The hallway feels never-ending as I race toward the security room where the guys are still gathered.
King grabs me and pulls me into his chest. “What is it?”
“I think I know where she is.”
“Where?”
“My old apartment.”
Confused, he tilts his head to the side. “What?”
“I think Sei’s been hiding in my old apartment,” I repeat. The pitch of my voice rises higher and higher as the truth practically blinds me.
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s the perfect place to hide. He knows it’s abandoned. He knows we would never look for him there. And he knows that it’s in a shitty enough part of town that he can get away with dragging kids to and from the place without anyone batting an eye. Except for Eddie.”
“Eddie?”
“The homeless guy. He always looked out for me. He was my friend. Will said there was a homeless guy outside of the apartment complex who would talk shit to Sei every time he saw him. That has to be Eddie, which means they have to be hiding there.”
His expression remains indifferent, but I can see the wheels turning inside Kingston’s head before he turns to Lou. “Tell Diece to get his ass back here.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Then Kingston presses a kiss to my forehead. “Good work, Wild Card.”
“Are you gonna save her?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna save her.”
“Good.”
33
Q
Stomach rolling, I peel one eyelid open while my consciousness fights to slip back into oblivion.
Where am I?
Every muscle in my body feels like it’s been injected with thick, slurry concrete. My brain feels like it has a heartbeat. And my mouth tastes like ass and feels like sandpaper.
Upper lip curling in disgust, I attempt to roll onto my side and search for water, but the cold bite of metal claws at my wrist.
What the hell?
I force my eyelids to stay open and inspect the handcuff that’s attached to the bed frame. My other hand is attached to the opposite side, spreading me into a T. Both keep me in place while the room continues to spin. I’m trapped. Again.
“Morning, Peach,” a dark yet almost giddy voice greets me.
The flicker from his lighter makes his face glow as he lights up another cigarette.
My blood runs cold, then the panic sets in. Arching my back, I wrench my arm away from the metal headboard, but my only evidence of victory is a consolation prize in the form of raw skin circling my wrists. I tug at the restraints again as my desperation envelops me.
I gotta get out of here.
I can’t be here again.
Please, don’t make me go through this again.
“Shhh,” Sei coos, enjoying his front-row seat as I struggle with my restraints. “Haven’t we done this already, Peach?”
The rattling from the cuffs against the metal headboard ceases. Then what’s left of my newfound courage sparks, and I finally look him in the eye. The star of my nightmares. My stalker. My abuser. My captor.
There are bags under his eyes, and his hair is longer. Stringier. He looks even more terrible and rundown than he did before.
“Welcome home.” His arms are raised from his sides as he showcases the tiny, rundown apartment, then takes another puff from his cigarette. He’s always sucking on those. If only the toxins would kill him quicker. He exhales, and the smoke swirls through the dimly lit room. My nose wrinkles at the familiar scent before my stomach rolls again.
No wonder I feel like I’m going to puke.
“Where are we?” I croak. My throat feels like it’s been shredded by razor blades, making me wince as the words slip past my lips. I’d give anything for some water. But I know