Page 44 of Dollhouse

“No, please,” I beg as I’m dragged from the van into what looks like an underground garage. The sound of my begging does nothing, but can’t seem to stop doing it.

My eyes take in the dirty space, where infrared lights hang from the ceiling, probably to give off heat in the dead of winter. All it does is make this place look like the mouth of hell.

“Bo!” I shout as I’m thrown over this man's shoulder. Someone behind him tugs on my hair, and I cry out as the man carrying me runs his hand up the back of my thigh, turning to carry me through a set of heavy wooden doors.

“Wish we had time for a welcome party,” he mocks and his group of masked cohorts laugh as if someone’s told a joke. I twist in his hold, trying to keep his hands from roaming any higher, and he spanks me. My mouth trembles as I struggle. There’s nothing I can do to defend myself. Not a single thing.

He knows it and he feeds on it. Gets off on my fear. Another unfamiliar spike of anger stabs into my good sense at the feeling. Being cornered is making me bold. I turn my head to look at his ear, wondering if my teeth could rip it to pieces when a sickening thud behind me reverberates in the small space.

Bo’s voice rings out, and my heart leaps. “What the f–get off me!” he shouts, voice still groggy. “Emma? Emma!”

He’s okay. My instinct to calm him is overwhelming, so I lie. “I’m right here. I’m fine. It’s okay.”

I hear him growl and there’s anoofbefore a sharp crack rings out. My stomach sinks as I realize he’s woken up fighting. My brave Bo.

The visceral need to be next to him leaves no more room for fear. “Leave him alone,” I scream, though I’m just ignored.

They’re hurting him.Through the sheet of my own hair obstructing my view, I see Bo bash his head into the man trying to wrangle him out of the van. “Don’t hurt him!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, kicking the door open and stalking through it. Bo’s dragged out by his feet, a violent tug that leaves his head in free fall until it smacks against the concrete ground. I’m screaming again, his name on repeat.

They're evil, dragging Bo behind them like he’s nothing. And once again, he’s not moving.

“What did you do to him?” I wail, choking on my own tears, nose clogged and hair sticking to both.

Stay calm,Noah’s voice orders.

My bound hands come to my face, hiding the world as I try to control my breath.

I can’t do this, Noah. I’m not you.

The thought of him undoes me. Wherever he is, I know he’s going to be losing his mind at not being able to get to me. The screaming echo of Jesse’s threats over the phone reverberates in my head as we make our way down the hallway like it’s a horror movie. All I register are the men and the horrible sound of Bo’s body dragged on the floor.

Each corner has another unidentifiable man, and I know in my head that it would be suicide for our men to try and reach us. It’s impossible.

My heart isn’t on the same page, but I don’t want himdying to save me.The world needs them and the work they do. I just need to survive, to keep Bo and I alive until it’s safe enough for him to come for us.

Drawing in a rattling breath, I exhale it noisily into the fabric of the stranger's vest.

Bo needs me to get us through this, and I can’t do that if I’m breaking down. I’m his protector.

I’m going to be a Finch someday, part of a family teeming with bravery and a ruthless need to win out over evil. I want to be worthy of that.

To our right, another heavy set of doors are propped open. A larger, more ornately furnished room comes into view, all mahogany and red plush carpet. A giant decorative fireplace is the focal point of the opposite wall, the flames licking upward, casting a hazy orange tint onto the carpet in front of it.

It’s clear there is wealth behind whatever is happening here. Wherever we are…it’s huge. Trying to map it out in my head will be tough, but I need to try. Noah would want me to learn everything I could.

I’m tossed to the floor in front of the fire, the breath forced from my body as I hit the floor. The man who carried me in here moves to stand behind me as Bo’s body comes through the door feet first, his head dragging sickly along the planks. My eyes scour him for signs of life beneath the blood drying all over his body, but he looks terrifyingly still. Once he’s moved along a wall, they drop his legs and a pained groan starts in his chest. Bruises line his entire chest and face.

The men are nearly impossible to distinguish from each other, but a frantic mental count confirms there’s about fifteen of them, filing in behind us and pulling the ornate doors shut with a clunk that sounds like doom. I watch, dread starting to burst in my nerve endings as they line up along the wall, murmuring amongst themselves.

The man behind me reaches up to pull a string and my eyes travel up to see a large golden bell next to the fireplace. The rough chime bounces around us as he tugs and everything seems to fall silent. Even I catch my breath, watching. Waiting.

Bo shifts, and my eyes land back on him, seeing him blink slowly up at the ceiling. I realize that he was also bound before being dragged into the room. Zip-ties cut into his ankles andwrists, much tighter than mine. They must see him as more of a threat.

Wake up, Bo. Please.

A scraping noise from the left side of the room has the men standing straight. A door in the mahogany paneling slides open and my eyes widen as Bundy enters the room.