Sarah is a dangerous new figure who blasts into Caden’s life, leaving many wondering who’s side she is really on.
From Interitas Volume 2: False Prophets
Then, a little after two in the afternoon, the day got a little brighter when the bell over the door jingled and she came in. She was hot, no two ways about it—young, maybe eighteen (hopefully eighteen), with longish brunette hair pinned up with what appeared to be chopsticks, dressed in tight jeans and a halter top showing off her toned arms and other assets. As she approached him with what he interpreted as a sexy smile, she reached up to the back of her head and undid her hair, allowing it to cascade down in a sultry wave. He had just enough time to picture doing some fairly lewd things to her before she stabbed his right hand with the sharp sticks. They passed all the way through the flesh and into the wood, pinning him to the counter.
He screamed, but only for a second because she used her other hand to grab his head and bang it into the metal cash register with such force that it knocked him out cold.
When he came to a few minutes later, he was in the back of the store, chained to the handle of the walk-in beer cooler with a bicycle lock. She leaned down over him, getting her face right up next to his.
“Where is she?” she asked.
“Who?” he replied.
She explained. He pretended to not know what she was talking about, not because he had any allegiance to the subject of her inquiry, but his automatic response toward anyone who asked for anything from him was to say, “screw it,” and that was a hard habit to break.
She responded by breaking his nose and asking again. “Where is she?”
Clayton knew he should have just gone ahead and told her right then and there, but once again his macho pride and tendency toward jerk behavior got in his way and he refused to say. He realized it as it was happening, but he was unable to stop himself.
She responded by kicking him in a place no man ever wants to get kicked. He cried and called her a bitch. She told him to look deeply into her eyes and ask himself whether he thought calling her names was in his best self-interest. He realized immediately that it wasn’t.
She asked a third time. “Where. Is. She?”
This time, he told her.