CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cat o’ nine tails struck Meara’s back mercilessly. She cowered into a corner and braced herself for the next blow. Another came, and then another, and another. The clocks were chiming, ringing, and blaring out the hour.
The pain was unbearable. But Meara’s throat was so dry and raw that she couldn’t scream anymore. Nothing came out except a hoarse, hollow gasping sound. Even she couldn’t hear herself over the din of the clocks. Not that screaming had done any good. Wherever she and the other two captives were being held, no one could hear them scream here.
The chimes and bells and other sounds slowly came to a stop. Meara felt pretty sure that they had marked the hour of six o’clock.
Then the blows stopped coming. She heard her captor say, “I’m sorry, I’ll try to do
