“Let them go.”
“Fortunately for me, it doesn’t matter what you want. Only what I want counts.”
Slate then rested his cold eyes on the couple. “Excuse us arguing. You two make yourselves at home while I make a few calls. I can’t leave my friends out of this show. They’d never forgive me. You three should get better acquainted. I can tell you are going to be good friends.”
Ink and Brewer went up the steps with Slate following behind, not turning his back to them. When the door closed, the woman began crying hysterically.
“It’s going to be okay,” the man tried soothing the woman he was holding in his arms.
“No, it won’t.” Gavin had to force the words out. They needed to be prepared and letting them believe that nothing was going to happen to them wouldn’t be doing them a favor. He needed to seize any chance of escape, as if their lives depended on it, because it did.
When they turned toward him, their horrified gazes had the woman tearing away from the arms holding her to run up the steps and bang on the door.
“That won’t do any good.”
The man went up the steps to place his arm around the woman, quietly talking to her before leading her back down the steps. Sitting side by side on the third step, they stared at him fearfully.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” That was one promise he could make to them.
“How did you end up down here?”
Gavin felt his lips curl in a half-smile. “I ask myself that all the time.”
“Oh … How long have you been here?”
From their initial reaction seeing him, his appearance must have been worse than he thought. He knew his body was emaciated. Slate using him to make videos was less frequent, and from their expressions he could see why. The ones they’d made of him now were sadistic, catering to more twisted desires. He would have starved to death long before, if Slate hadn’t increased his amount of food days before shooting new videos.
“Don’t know that either. What’s the date …?”
When they told him the date and year, Gavin wished he hadn’t asked.
Shell-shocked, he walked numbly to the cot and sat down, burying his head in his hands. Slate hadn’t stolen only days and months from him. He had stolen almost nine years.
Feeling wetness slipping through his fingers, he lay down on the cot to stare blankly up at the ceiling. Memphis had told him the truth—The Last Riders weren’t coming for him.
“There has to be a way out of here?” The man came to stand next to him.
Gavin didn’t answer until the man shook his shoulder. “There isn’t. I’ve tried sixteen times, and I’m still here.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “Sixteen times?”
“Could have been more. I quit counting at sixteen.”
“There has to be a way ….”
Gavin pressed his lips together. He refused to give false hope, but three could work faster than one. His sluggish brain started thinking of their chances, when the door opened and Slate came down with Ink and Butcher.
“Sorry, Brad, we don’t need you this go-around. This show is just for Cami and Reaper.”
Gavin tried to get off the cot, his spasming muscles failing at the effort. When the woman started screaming, Gavin tried again, this time managing to get to his feet.
“Let her go!” he yelled as Ink started dragging the woman up the steps.
“Please no,” she begged.
“Wait.”
Ink stopped at Slate’s order.
“I’m getting a new video to upload. I really don’t give a fuck of who it is, so I’ll let you decide who should be the star of the show—you or Brad here.”
“I’m not going to touch her.”
“Well, I don’t need both of you. I’ll give you guys a chance to talk this over for a few minutes.” Slate motioned for Ink to release the woman.
Free, she ran into the man’s arms, burrowing her face into his shoulder.
Slate started to go back up the steps, then stopped on the third. “Did I mention that three’s a crowd? I’m not taking on two more mouths to feed, so ….” He used his hand to slash across his throat, the sickening motion leaving no doubt that one wasn’t going to live, whichever choice was made. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m still waiting for a couple of my guests to arrive.”
“He really doesn’t mean it, does he?” the woman whispered.
“He means it.” Gavin brushed the sweat away from his brow. The need for a bump from one of Butcher’s syringes had his skin crawling as if bugs were feasting over his flesh.
“What are we going to do?” the woman screamed at them. “We have to get out of here!”
Gavin clenched his jaw. He knew what was going to happen to the woman when Slate came back.
“You can’t let them kill my fiancé.”