Nothing makes sense.
I haven't been in a Sky-Flyer since I turned six, but the distinct sound of wind buffeting the sides of a metal craft surrounds me.
The world fades, replaced by memories. My father's scowl and mother's bare-minimum glance up from her tablet haunt me. The last time I saw them, they did as they always had—either chastise or ignore me.
That was four years ago, when I was fifteen. I'd left home that day, knowing I would never go back.
The world shifts as the Sky-Flyer banks to the side.
I can't move.
With my face pressed against the floor and my body refusing to obey, I slide along as the craft tilts further. Something warm bumps against my side.
Despite the disjointed thrumming of my heart, I can't remember what set it to galloping, or why I'd be in a Sky-Flyer.
The warm thing lets out a muffled moan and shifts against me. Dread climbs into my chest and spreads outward as I try to move my limbs again and can't.
I pour my efforts into lifting my eyelids, but it takes several tries before they raise enough for me to peek through my lashes.
Gray metal glints in the overhead light, the sterile walls of the Sky-Flyer completely opposite to how I've lived for the past four years. Except for the medical shelters I visit on the outskirts of Embilte every three months for my heats, I've bunked down with my adopted family—an odd band of those unable to make a living within the city limits.
From the youngest preteen, Andree, to the older beta male, Wallen, we cared for one another the way family was meant to.
That's why I left home. I couldn't stand the disdain on the faces of those who should have loved me most. I hated the cold atmosphere of my parents' apartment.
I struggle to lift my head and look down at the thing touching my hip, but give up when it proves too difficult.
When I try to suck in a deep breath, my mouth won't open.
Terror sparks through my veins, but my brain takes a moment to register my fear.
The craft changes direction, pitching forward before making the floor tilt the other way. My limp body gets pulled around my gravity until the warm thing bumps against my hip, changing my trajectory so my legs lead the way downward and my hair covers my eyes.
I almost close them, wanting to give in to the ice coating my veins and the blackness swarming the edges of my vision, but my hair clears from my face.
I wish it had stayed.
Two naked women, both chained in lewd positions, stand strapped to the cargo net in the corner.
Vomit climbs into my throat as I glimpse bruises forming on their exposed flesh and opaque fluid dripping down their legs.
Whatever drug flows through my system beckons me to close my eyes, but I strain to keep them open, terrified the darkness will repeat this scene over and over until it drags me into insanity.
It gets worse.
The Sky-Flyer dips and jerks. For a moment, weightlessness disorients me until the floor slams into my chest and knocks the wind out of my lungs. In the chaos, other noises join the moans—a high-pitched wail, sobs, retching—all muffled. All terrified. All hopeless.
My stomach tightens, ushering the vomit higher up my throat, but I swallow it down and suck in oxygen.
The craft yet again changes directions, and I watch in horror as other bound women slide across the floor with me.
YOU ARE READING
Rescued and Ruined
RomanceI thought being kidnapped by heartless scientists was the worst thing that could happen to me. I was wrong. Being rescued by a massive teal alien alpha covered in spikes was worse. So much worse. The scientists only wanted to experiment on me. H...
