One of the men leans down to grab both Wicked and me, but I rear my foot out and kick him straight in the dick. Wicked launches forward, pulling his knife out from his jacket and whipping it across the man who is closest to me. The man stops, his eyes wide and his hands flying to his neck where blood spills between his fingers in a gush of urgency.

I stand back and stare blankly as I watch the life drift from his eyes.

Good. I wish I could say I felt remorse, or even sick to my stomach. I don’t. They killed Poppy, and now they want us.

“Wicked!” I yell, just as arms squeeze around my body. He spins around to find me, just as someone comes in from behind him and everything goes black.

I don’t think I’ve ever thought about the way it feels to be loved. Not just by your parents, but by people who aren’t programmed to love you. That unconditional love. The kind that has nothing to do with the fact that you share the same blood. I’ve never had that. Except for maybe Betty, but not the kind that Wicked and Poppy had. I always assumed that they were blood siblings—they were that close.

I sit perched on a king-size bed. It has black silk sheets and a fur bed cover. There’s gold trimmings and architraves that are carved into small patterns on the ceiling, and if I squint my eyes tight enough, I can see the carvings that are cut into the light fixture hanging in the middle. The chandelier style crystals dangle from above, and when I truly take in the room, the opulence of it all sneaks up on me. Everything is black—the bedding, dressers, and even the rug that sits at the end of the bed. There’s one door to the side of the room, and behind the bed there’s a simple blank wall. No windows. Probably a red flag if I didn’t already know that why I’m here is a red flag.

Wicked.

I push up from the bed and lift my foot to walk, when I look down to the clunky heels on my feet. What? Moving to the side of the room, where a large Victorian-style mirror hangs off the wall, I pause when I see what I’m wearing. There’s a bruise on the side of my head, and when I turn to the side a little, I wince when I see the stitching. Poppy. I’m dressed in a black lace bra and black panties with suspenders hanging down my thighs. Pulling the silk robe closer to my body, I tie it around me and turn back to the task at hand.