Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Suddenly, we come to a halt.
I find this out when I hit the front of the van abruptly.
The string of curses that escapes my mouth at that goes on until the doors open. I know they’ve opened because I can sense new light through the bag. I am dragged out again, into some kind of a place. I know that because of the bump I feel as I am pulled over the door frame.
“Pick the fucking bag up, you goddamn monster!”
I shout the words, and a second later I am banged heavily into the wall. I guess they’re not open to feedback.
I shut up, because it’s obvious that no mercy is going to be shown to me. That is proved moments later as the bag containing me is dragged down a flight of stairs. Bang bang bang bang.
There’s no good way to take these blows. I curl up and try to protect my head and neck and hope that we’re not going too much deeper. Being dragged along the floor is actually a relief once I hit the bottom.
A rough voice comes from somewhere in the shadows of the place.
“Did you get the meat?”
What meat?
“Yeah. We got the meat right here. Just where you said she’d be.”
The bag is grabbed and I realize it’s me. I’m the fucking meat. Not only am I the meat, but I’m apparently the predictable meat. How is that possible? I just escaped a jail cell I didn’t even know I’d be in until a couple hours ago. How could anybody else possibly know? Why would they care? What the absolute fuck is going on?
The bag is opened, rough fabric peeled back. A big saurian hand reaches in and grabs me by the hair. I am pulled out of the bag, scrabbling to get out so the thing stops ripping my hair out at the fucking roots.
Once out of the bag, I find myself somewhere underground. It looks like a cellar of some kind. There’re big bricks everywhere on the walls, which round up toward a sort of vaulted ceiling. There’s a heavy dullness to the way sound reverberates off them which makes me think we’re dealing with hard packed soil, clay and rock all around.
I find myself surrounded by saurians. At least half a dozen of them. Unlike Avel and Thorn, and others I’ve met who all have very long, glossy, glorious hair, these saurians have short hair and brutish expressions on their scaly faces. Not a single one of them looks at me with any kind of softness or curiosity. Their expressions are cold, calculating, and predatory. They’re all looking at me as if I am a snack they won’t possibly be able to share. There’s hunger and curiosity, and I don’t like either one of those things.
“Who the fuck are you guys?” I ask the question aggressively.
A hand sweeps down swiftly out of the corner of my vision and catches me across the face hard enough to send me spinning back to the ground. My head sings with the blow, and an intense dizziness ensues that makes getting up impossible even if I wanted to.
“Meat doesn’t talk,” a rough voice intones. “Another word out of you and I’ll put you in the locker.”
I don’t know what that means, but for the moment I keep my mouth shut. That’s relatively easy because it’s full of blood. I swallow some and spit out the rest. I’m lucky my teeth are still intact.
They’re not answering questions, so I have to rely on what I can observe. First things first, unlike Avel’s loft, this is not a place that will be easily escaped. Looks like a one way in, one way out sort of deal. From my uncomfortable position on the floor, I scan the room, looking for weapons or some kind of exit route. I don’t see much of anything besides the limbs of my captors.
I think I recognize a couple of them. I think I’ve seen them before. But where? At the alpha’s place? No... Oh. I know. I saw them in the Hall of Bones. They were on the side behind Torin Rivet.
These saurians are criminals of the worst kind. Avel sort of implied that he treated Torin kindly and sent him to go work on a construction crew for his own good. I think he wanted that young man a long way from these brutes who not only hit women but beat on creatures less than half their size.
“You’re sure the Wings will come for this thing? It’s so pathetic. Not a single scale. She’s just flesh and bone. It’s disgusting.”
They start to discuss me as if I’m not present, and their discussion is not complimentary.
“She’s an easy set of holes. And Wings doesn’t like real saurian women. He’s practically celibate. Never seen him with a mate.”