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Roan
The worldaround me was fuzzy and dark. And quiet. The only thing I could hear was my own breathing, which meant I was alone. I didn’t know if that should be comforting or not. After having Frankie with me for the past few weeks, it was strange being by myself again.
Pushing myself into a sitting position, I held my pounding head in one hand. My throat was raw and scratchy and my tongue felt like sandpaper. I forced myself to swallow, hoping to encourage more saliva to make things tolerable.
I felt... off. Not quite dizzy, but the world was moving at a sluggish pace. And my fucking body hurt. My shoulder, hips, ribs. Was I run over while I was sleeping?
A shiver rippled down my spine and I realized I was on a concrete floor, on top of a thin, ratty blanket. A single lightbulb, high overhead, cast a circle of pale yellow around the small space. Glancing up, I shielded my eyes with my hand, studying the enclosure.
It was all chainlink. Like a dog kennel. Except someone added chainlink across the top, too. If I wanted to, I had enough room to move, which I suppose was a good thing. Other than the threadbare piece of fabric, the only other thing with me in the kennel was a bucket. I didn’t even want to investigate what was in it. The entire place smelled like a weird combination of motor oil and urine and I’m sure the bucket wasn’t helping matters.
The space I was in was on the end of what looked like a row of similar kennels. How many, I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t see what was beyond them. It was too dark. Of one thing I was certain, though — I wasnotthe first person these people kidnapped.
I was fucking kidnapped!
It was blurry, but I remembered it now.
If I was in a frat, I’d think this was a hazing ritual. But I wasn’t. Andthiswasn’t. This was very real.
The why eluded me entirely. I was generally a nice person. I didn’t go out of my way to intentionally piss people off, unless you were my father. No frats, like I said. There was no way my friends could pull off an elaborate prank like this, complete with the fucking drugs and creepy warehouse.
I was a no one. Yeah, my dad was rich, butIwasn’t. Between busting my ass in school and giving music lessons to kids in town, I was busy trying to get a career started before my imprisonment at Georgetown began. How could you make an enemy doing any of that? And even if I somehow managed to, who the hell would want to kidnap me over it?
What felt like several hours later, I still hadn’t come up with any bright revelations.
A large metal door screeched somewhere in the dark and heavy footsteps echoed in the distance.
Scurrying to my feet as quickly as I could, I pressed myself against the chainlink at the far side, opposite the door, waiting. My heart pounded with each thud from the boots until it quickened on its own, outpacing the person the closer they got.
Emerging from the shadows, a giant of a man appeared before me. Head held high, he strode forward with a look of determination on his terrifyingly handsome face. His black hair matched the fitted t-shirt he wore, showcasing his muscles in a casually intimidating way. Unless he wore a tent, I’m sure any shirt was going to show off how big he was. Jeans and black boots completed the look, along with dozens of tattoos scattered across both of his hands and arms.
Without hesitating, he unlocked the door and walked in, ducking as he did so. He left the door open behind him, probably because he felt comfortable knowing he had at least fifty pounds of muscle on me. I’m pretty sure he could crush my skull between his hands if he tried hard enough. Was he the fucker who crushed my ribs, too? My guess was “Yes.”
I didn’t want to be the first one to speak, even though a thousand questions screamed inside my head. I swallowed each one of them back, waiting to see what he was going to do.
He was equally silent, watching me with a blank expression on his face. Every so often his jaw shifted to the side, the dark stubble drawing attention to how sharp his features were. If he wasn’t a fucking kidnapper, I would have said he was hot. Lie. Hewashot, even if he was a kidnapper. But he lost major points for being a criminal.
When his hand drifted behind him, I jerked back enough to make the chainlink rattle. I cursed myself for flinching, especially when the corner of his mouth quirked into the smallest smile imaginable before vanishing.
Still without speaking, he withdrew his hand again, slowly, holding a water bottle aloft. He glanced between me and the blanket before lobbing it to where I’d been sitting.
“Thank you,” I murmured. Did I just thank my jailer? Seriously? This was what happened, apparently, when your mom made you go to etiquette school in the twenty-first century during her Stepford Wife phase. You thank people, even when they clearly didn’t deserve it.
His black brows slanted in question, but he didn’t reply. Rude. Even if it was a ridiculous situation, he could at least say “You’re welcome.” With his mission accomplished, he turned to go.
“Wait!” I took a step after him. “Why are you doing this?”
He kept walking; so did I.
Naturally he got to the opening first. He stepped through and closed the door the moment I reached it, though his movements weren’t hurried in the slightest. Clicking the lock into place, he arched an eyebrow, but stayed where he was, like a silent declaration of victory.
“Tell me why,” I repeated, threading my fingers through the chainlink and holding his gaze in the hope he’d tell mesomething. “Why am I here? Who are you? What do you want?”
His face was as expressionless as before, but his pale eyes swept over me slowly, from head to toe and back again. He looked familiar, but I had no idea from where. Maybe he just had one of those faces. No, his face was too striking to be common. There’s no way I would have forgotten running into him. The snarling tiger’s head tattoo on the side of his neck made him all the more distinguishable.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, indicating a swallow of his own. I thought the movement would precede an answer, so when he turned and left, all without ever making a single noise, frustration exploded inside of me.
“No, wait! Don’t go! Come on!” His steps never slowed. Head up and shoulders as straight as a fucking linebacker’s, he strode away like he couldn’t hear me at all. I smacked my palm against the chainlink. “Goddamn it!”
