Chapter Three
There was something very, very wrong with Kira Hudson. She was certain of it. Slumped in a metal folding chair, hunched over below the only window in the dim, dank basement, she stared at her hands. They were bound in front of her now, duct tape chafing her wrists; the new guard had told her point-blank that any attempt at escape would result in some kind of very painful punishment, and that it was futile anyway.
Kira was snatched off the street in Baton Rouge four days ago… or was it five now? At any rate, the skinny, pale meth head currently guarding her was her favorite of the men who’d held the post so far. This one was too far gone to care about much, and Kira didn’t garner more than a glance here and there as long as she stayed quiet.
Seeing as how she only wore a th
