Chantelle was on her second bottle of water when a noise at last roused her. Though instinct almost brought her to her feet, caution won out. Her limbs tightened before relaxing as she took control of what the animal part of her wanted most—to snarl, to rip, to defend itself. She kept her grip on the bottle loose, her eyes closed, her head hanging, her body slumped against the wall.
Footsteps approached. They stopped. Another sound…metal. A scrape. She almost tensed; someone might open the door of her cage, but the sound wasn’t of a key in a lock. More movement…a creak. Silence.
Chantelle waited.
“Ms Shepherd?”
A male voice. She didn’t move, striving to recognise the man by his voice alone. He cleared his throat.
“Chantelle Shepherd.” He sounded more insistent this time.
She made a s
