Torture (Siren Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

shutting my eyes, and relaxing myself to sleep.
     
    *              *              *
     
    Denise's shriek wakes me up, bright and early. I shake my head to clear the cobwebs out of it.
    Her alarm isn't surprising, since in a space like this, you notice even the most minute changes. And the one I worked on earlier certainly isn't minute. In the rear corner of the room, where there was an empty cage likely meant to store tools and such when the Siren was operational, the cage now has the meal-drop cooler in it. There's more changes than that, but they haven't discovered them yet.
    “What the—” I mutter under my breath, in case either of the others are paying attention. It's exhausting, living this kind of double-life, but I wouldn't give it up. A yawn eats up anything else I might say, and Allen looks at me.
    I haven't quite decided how I should play the reaction—should I joke it off, since this is routine to them by now? Should I react to it being a reminder of our forced helplessness? Which is more useful right now?
    Calder flashes me a little smile. “Guess it's breakfast time...”
    Allen overhears, and glares at him. Guess that means that distress is the better option. I tense up, and bite my lip, moving closer to it as they do.
    “Any clue how to open it?” Calder asks Denise, since she's been looking at it longer. She points to the bottom of the cage, where there's a key within reach. The bars aren't too far apart; any of us should be able to reach in there easily.
    “Ah. Gotcha.”
    Calder steps closer, but Allen shoves him back. “I've got it.”
    “Okay, whatever. Knock yourself out.”
    Denise bites her lip, and then spits it out. “What if it's a trap? The containers have never been this obvious before.”
    Allen laughs, his voice shrill and cutting, but stops pretty quickly—she has a point. I don't like making things easy, or letting them relax. The food drops are usually hidden, or difficult to reach. He looks at it another second, torn between charging forward toward the goal, and heeding his instincts. He shrugs a little apologetically, stepping closer, inspecting the cage closely, his apparent decision that caution never hurts. “Well, we're not just gonna sit here and stare at it. Trapped or no, we've gotta eat.”
    Before anyone can argue, he shoves his arm in, and the static zap and smell of singed flesh draws a shriek from me even though I knew it was coming. I'm not the only one to cry out, though. Allen withdraws his arm with singe-marks at his shoulder, and no key. “ Fuck .”
    The smell isn't quite overpowering, but it will be in a minute, when someone tries again.
    “Well, now what?” Denise growls. “Knowing doesn't actually help .” The anger seems to be a smokescreen—and a bad one, at that—for her fear. She tousles her hair with one hand, rather more forcefully than simply smoothing out a flyaway tickling her face. I'd guess she's choking back a panic attack. The smell of the electricity might be slightly different than the red-hot metal, but it's close enough to remind us all of what might await whoever reaches in next.
    Calder examines it, as closely as he can without touching it. “How bad was it?” he asks Allen. It's a dumb question to ask when the man's shoulder's still smoking.
    “ You try it, pretty boy.”
    “If that's what we want to—”
    “ No ,” Denise insists. “He wants us to get in there. There's gotta be some other way, other than playing to his whims.” I have to bet that if Calder wasn't here, Denise'd be the ready leader of the group; she doesn't seem inclined to speak up often, but she's on point when she does. And less afraid to stand up to Allen than I'd have thought.
    Calder cocks his head. “I'm of the same mind; I'd rather starve than be someone else's entertainment like this. But how long do you think they'll give us?”
    He glances at me, and I shrug, wide-eyed.
    Allen's fuming—whatever issues with authority