Page 178 of Cinder
“Just take the money,” she says quickly. “We don’t need to—”
“We need to make sure she keeps her mouth shut,” he grits out.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I say immediately, still struggling in his grip. “I swear to God, I won’t—”
“Everybody says that, sweetheart.”
I wrench against him again, and this time he shoves me hard enough that I go down fast, gravel tearing into my palms and knees. Pain shoots up my arms, but before I can scramble up, his hand fists in my hair near the base of my skull and drags me backward, hard enough to make my eyes water.
“No—no, please—”
“Hold still,” he snaps.
“Get off me!”
I claw at his wrist until I feel skin break beneath my nails, but it’s no use.
He’s stronger.
I’m forced down into a rusted chair, and he shoves me back when I try to surge up. Rough rope bites into my wrists immediately, scraping my skin raw as he jerks it tight.
“Stop!” I yell, still twisting. Still fighting. “You’ve got the money. You don’t need to—”
The rope tightens on my arms until my hands tingle. He moves fast, looping it around the back of the chair, cinching it tight so I can’t stand up. My chest heaves, and my eyes snap to the woman behind him.
“Stacey,” I say again, but this time it’s not a shout. “Please.”
She hovers uselessly a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself so tightly it looks painful, but doesn’t look at me directly, just watches him finish tying me up.
“Are you gonna untie her?” she asks quietly.
He moves back over to the bag of cash on the floor, then digs out a cigarette with one hand while counting the cash with the other.
“Eventually.” He laughs softly, leaning back against the wall and blowing out a long column of smoke.
Ash drifts lazily onto the dirt floor.
“That’s not what we agreed,” Stacey mutters.
“You agreed to get me paid.” He snaps the bag shut and finally pushes away from the wall. “She’ll be fine for an hour or two.”
“She can’t just—”
“She’ll be fine,” he cuts in. “It’s an empty tower.”
Stacey hesitates.
“You need to go,” he adds, jerking his chin toward the open side. “Now.”
For one second, I see it—something almost human in her expression as she looks back at me. But the need to survive kicks back in, and then it’s gone.
She backs away, finally looking at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t th—”
“Fuck you,” I spit back.
The guy chuckles around the last of his cigarette, letting his eyes drift over me one more time.
“I’ll be back for you later, sweetheart.”
