A/N: As you may have noticed, I raised the rating a smidge. This is just a precaution for future chapters.
Meanwhile...
The walls of the old building were weak, so A.J. thought repeatedly ramming her shoulder against the wall could lead to freedom. All it had given her so far were major aches and pains. It was also agitating the dog.
Defeated, A.J. slumped against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She jumped as the door to her makeshift prison opened. Garret and a pair of his henchmen breezed in.
"There there, love," Garret said a deadly calm voice. "There's no need for those tears. The dog won't attack unless I tell him to."
He ran his fingers through A.J.'s sweaty, tangled hair. Far from soothing the teen, it only made her struggle more.
"You're a feisty little sheila, aren't you?" he asked.
"Get your greasy mitts off me," A.J. snarled at me.
"Darling, you can end this ordeal," said Garret. "All you have to do is say the word and I'll have you taken care of."
A.J. knew Garret's definition of "taken care of" was a double-tap to the back of someone's head. She tried to squirm away from Garret. He tightened his grip.
"I think we'd best calm you down," said Garret.
He motioned to one of his flunkies, who produced a syringe filled with a liquid A.J. couldn't identify. Garret nodded. The first flunkie forced up A.J.'s sleeve while the other pierced her arm with the needle. The room began to spin. A.J. passed out on the floor a split second later.