Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book is the property of Honey Maxwell. I held my hands out, entirely in the care of my stranger. He grabbed my tied wrists, holding me close to him as I blindly shuffled towards my captivity. “Stair” he said gruffly – standing in front of me, letting me rest my hands on his bare back. “And another. Then a corner, then stairs.” His oily skin sent a shiver through me, his warmth radiating as I felt a cool blast of air coming from the basement. Although blindfolded, I could smell where I was headed – the basement smelled dark, it smelled dirty, it smelled like somewhere that any sensible girl wouldn't want to be. It smelled like somewhere that only a couple of hours earlier, a girl like me wouldn't want to be. That was before – that was before I decided to leave my life behind. That was before I decided to join the Broken Wings.
