Chapter 8

The metallic click of the tumblers in the lock turning had Emma scrambling to her feet. She'd lost track of time in the cell, a tiny space with no proper plumbing - hole in the ground - or bed - the ground by the hole. A solitary time broken only by the occasional incursions of the devil to ask if she'd changed her mind.

As soon as he swept into her barren chamber, she said, practically on a sigh, "No, I still won't sleep with your alien clients."

Not yet, but she might change her mind soon. Her stomach grumbled in annoyance at her morals, the meager cups of fluid - she wouldn't call it water, not with it glowing green - they gave her to keep her alive didn't cure the craving for sustenance.

What I wouldn't give for a burger and fries right now.

"Convincing you to behave in a proper fashion is not why I'm here. I've decided to release you."

"You have?" She couldn't help the surprise, followed by immediate suspicion. "Why? What's the gimmick?"