Chapter 101

Logan

I woke on hard ground, made even more uncomfortable by the small rocks and discarded strands of hay that tangled in my hair and pressed into my clothes.

I blinked my surroundings into view, trying to make sense of this strange, unfamiliar place. The walls were constructed of rotting wood, and the smell of mildew was thick in the air. I couldn’t tell if the steady creak I heard was from the wind or the old house settling. Perhaps it was just my mind, though, unraveling by degrees.

Wherever I was, the place was ancient and foreign to me. And, given that I didn’t smell the remnants of smoke clinging to my nose from the burning barn, we must have relocated to some other new abandoned space.

When I was able to gather enough strength to prop myself up, I saw her.

Emma stood in the doorway, framed by the weak light from outside. I had slept through the night, it seemed.

She looked like she had stepped out of some twisted dream. Her smile was slow and deliberate. As she took a single step inward, her eyes glistened with mischief like she’d already won.

“Welcome,” she said, her grin growing. “Do you like your new home?”

I tried to push myself up, but I was still too weak. It seemed like I was made leaden by more than mere smoke inhalation. Was she drugging me?

“Where are we?” I demanded.

“Does it matter? You’ll never escape, Logan,” she purred, stepping closer. “No one will find you here. It’s just us. Well, us and a few close… friends. But don’t worry. Now you can be truly and completely mine.”

I wanted to lunge for her throat, but my limbs felt like they were weighted. It was obvious then that my suspicion was true: I had been drugged. I wondered if it was, ironically wolfsbane that was tainting my senses. Evelyn had a cure, miles away and inaccessible to me now.

The drugs made everything sluggish. As I tried again to sit completely upright, the world tilted and blurred. Every time I tried to fight, it was like moving underwater.

When I finally managed to clumsily kneel, I saw that we were not as alone as she had implied. Behind her, beyond the doorframe, and lingering in her shadows were the other women I had seen before I’d lost consciousness.

Rogues. Her rogues. They were a swarm of women, each with the same wild, hungry look. They didn’t speak, just watched, mute and observant.

“Let me out of here, Emma,” I snarled.

She pouted. “Why would I do that? We just finally reconnected.” She took another step closer. “Don’t you want to finish what we started in the woods?”

I growled, the noise escaping menacingly between my bared teeth. She seemed to find amusement in this, as she chuckled darkly. “Oh, Logan, are you seriously going to fight this? I could give you everything. A whole new life with just the two of us. We wouldn’t be beholden to anyone. Just say yes.”

My teeth gritted to the point of pain. “Never.”

Her pout deepened. “You must just be fussy. Surviving a fire is tiring work. Luckily, I have something that can get you right to sleep.”

One of her rogues stepped forward. In her hands was a syringe.

I recoiled, pushing myself back fruitlessly. Intravenous use of wolfsbane was highly potent and dangerous. It was easy to overdose if given too much. But that was only the worst-case scenario. There were so many horrors that lingered in between, mainly involving me being unconscious and completely at Emma’s disposal and mercy.

But while I tried to fight back, I knew that it was useless. There was nowhere to run, and my limbs refused to cooperate. So the female rogue stuck the syringe in me easily and pressed on the plunger.

Emma, cooing, said, “Goodnight, Logan.” It was the last thing I heard before I was pulled under again.

The days bled together. I didn’t know if it was day or night anymore. Sometimes Emma would come in, brushing her fingers down my arm, leaning in too closely, and whispering things I forced myself not to hear. Then, she would be replaced by thoughts of Evelyn, Evely, Evelyn. I could feel her beside me if I strained. I missed her warm presence more than I even wanted to acknowledge.

I was never sure if I imagined the moments Emma’s lips brushed my cheek, or if it was just my fractured mind filling in the blanks. I hoped for the latter, as I was unable to resist or even make sense of what she was doing to me in the moment. I fought her as much as I could when I could muster enough strength by turning away, clenching my jaw, and forcing myself to remember Evelyn’s face and the sound of her laugh. I had to hold onto something real.

But reality kept slipping.

One time, I opened my eyes and Scott was sitting across from me. His shirt was soaked in blood, his face pale. He looked like had had taken a recent beating, as parts of his face were bruised and starting to swell. Then my gaze dropped, and I almost vomited.

His left arm was gone. It was completely missing, and the sleeve was tied off in a crude, stained bandage.

“She… She cut it off,” he rasped, eyes glassy. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Why couldn’t you have just died like you were supposed to? She said… this is my punishment for trying to harm you.”

I wanted to ask him how he found me. I wanted to tell him I’d kill both him and her for what they’d done to me. But the words stuck in my throat, my tongue heavy and numb.

Part of me wondered if he was even real. The drugs made everything swim, and sometimes I saw things, like Evelyn in the corner or my mother’s voice calling me. People who I knew weren’t there and couldn’t be.

Sometimes Scott vanished for hours, only to be there again when I blinked, like he’d never left. Always, though, he was without that arm and covered in his own blood.

My stomach cramped constantly. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I’d eaten a meal. Emma and her rogues kept me alive, but only barely. In my drugged state, I remembered swallowing enough water or chewing just enough food before the needle found my arm once more.

And the thought kept creeping in, cold and sharp: If no one finds me soon, I’ll die here.

I couldn’t live like this for much longer. There was only so much abuse the body could take. What a horrible way to die, just wasting away in some forgotten farmhouse, my mind rotting before my body finally gave up.

I closed my eyes and tried to count my breaths and quizzed myself on simple facts to keep myself somewhat sane. My name, my place of birth, my half-brother’s name. My wife. Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn.

I felt that if I could just keep track of something, anything, maybe I wouldn’t lose myself completely. But when I opened my eyes again, Emma was there. Smiling.

And I wasn’t sure if it was still the same day, or if days had passed without me knowing at all. But I wondered, staring back at her, what she had in store now, and if it even mattered at all.