The scents of blood and fear followed us as we edged our way, yet again, down a broad hallway. My eyes devoured our surroundings, and the hairs on my arms stood up like frigid children lost in an endless storm. Every shadow was a murderer; every speck on the dirt-covered floor was a drop of blood. And every time I looked at Coden, Rosalie, or Valarie, all I could see was them sprawled out on the floor in a pool of blood, just like Emily.
I hated being left to my own thoughts—especially here. Nothing good ever came from it.
“Where are we, anyway?” Valarie asked.
This was the first time anyone had spoken in the past fifteen minutes or so. Not even Coden had said a word as we maneuvered our way through the building. He would use his eyes and hands instead of his mouth, his lips kept in a perfectly straight line. Though he didn’t make it obvious, I could tell that this situation was beginning to wear him down, and that soon enough his fear would probably leak through the cracks of his façade. I wanted to help him. I really did. But how could I help him when I couldn’t even help myself?
“I think we’re in a warehouse,” Coden replied, his voice stiff, collected.
“But all of the rooms look like they belong to a house.”
I almost nodded but kept my head down, squinting through the darkness. Rosalie clung to me, her feet shuffling as she struggled to keep up. She was wearing Airwalk sneakers—the kind that I used to wear when I was her age. Well, at least what I assumed was her age. I kept forgetting that I’d only guessed how old my fellow captives were.
My eyes swept over Rosalie, Coden, and Valarie. They were all so mundane-looking. Rosalie, with her Total Girl T-shirt and short, frilly green skirt; Coden with his blue shirt and jeans; Valarie with her stolen, faded green pullover sweatshirt and jeans. Everyone looked so normal. And yet they didn’t. Maybe it was the fear seemingly etched into Valarie’s and Rosalie’s faces, or maybe it was the way Coden held himself together. Maybe it was something else entirely. I honestly had no damn idea.
“Yeah, they do,” Coden agreed, his words ripping me away from my conflicted thoughts. “But all of the hallways aren’t set up like a house at all. I think it was renovated to look like a house. I’m guessing it’s in case any of us escape. They’d bank on the fact that we’d run away without looking back and then tell the police we’d been thrown into an abandoned home. Or maybe it was for some other reason. I don’t know.”
“Wow,” Valarie breathed. “How the hell do you know all that? Are you like in college for building buildings and stuff?”
“I’m not in college.” Coden brought a hand through his hair. “I’m in high school. But my uncle is into this kind of stuff.”
My eyes shot over to Coden, and they widened. I wasn’t quite sure why it shocked me that he was still in high school. Maybe it was because he was handling this as though he was so much older than the rest of us. “How old are you?” I asked softly.
Coden’s gaze shifted my way. “I’m eighteen,” he replied. “Recently. You?”
“I’m seventeen.” I sighed shakily. “Almost eighteen.”
“I’m fourteen,” Valarie mumbled. She glanced at Rosalie. “How old are you?”
Rosalie seemed to cower further into me. I could feel her shaking. “I just turned twelve,” she whispered.
Valarie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped. “Holy hell,” she muttered. She shot an angered look around us, completely seething now. “What the hell is wrong with these people? I thought it was demented when they kidnapped teenagers, but a twelve-year-old? She’s not even thirteen!”
