Page 119 of Finding Noah

A small, dirty rectangular window, the type you’d see in a basement, sat far above where I lay. My view of the outside world was mostly obstructed by the wall beside me, but there, high in the blackened sky, was the moon.

It was nighttime.

How long have I been asleep?

However long I’d been out, I didn't know, but what I knew for certain was that more than half a day had passed since I'd sent a text to Meg, saying I was leaving. It had been hours—maybe even days, for all I knew—and I was here, lying beneath a moon that could barely see me through that hazy window.

Could it see her too?

Oh fuck, Meg.

A whimpered noise escaped my throat as the tears sprang to my eyes.

It's my fault. It's all my fault.

I should be home right now. Dammit, I never should've left.

Every single warning, every single inkling of intuition … all ignored. And for what? To chase the ghost of a man I never should've set out to find. The dead remains had been buried for a reason, and this was what I got for trying to unearth a past better left untouched.

I was going to die. Whoever the fuck had done this was going to kill me, and it was my fault.

Silently, I cried for minutes or an hour, faulting myself for this unthinkable predicament I'd gotten myself into. Until I sucked the tears back and realized, No. This wasn't how it was going to end, and if, if, if it was, I wasn't going down easily.

I was Soldier Mason's son, dammit, and he had taught me how to fight.

With my strength somewhat regained—I was still weakened by whatever had been used to knock me out—I tugged at my restraints, rattling the chains against metal.

A headboard? A pipe?

A headboard was unlikely to budge, depending on what it was made of, but a pipe …

Pipes could be broken.

So, I clanged against that metal, tugging and rattling and tugging some more, ignoring the pain searing through my arms and hands as the flesh around my wrists was torn apart with the force. And then, finding my voice, albeit rough and hoarse from being unused, I began to yell.

“Help!” I shouted. “Hey! Is anyone out there?! Help! Help me!”

Clang, clang, clang!

I rattled, called out, and screamed until something bounded from somewhere within wherever I was being held. I quieted for a moment, holding my breath and listening to what I soon realized was the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer to where I lay.

Desperate and foolishly hopeful, I began to yell once again.

“Hello?! Is someone out there?! Help! Please!”

The footsteps stopped right outside, and I listened intently.

It didn't take a genius to realize that whoever was here in this place with me was likely the person who had abducted me in the first place. Whoever was there on the other side of my enclosure meant me harm, for whatever reason, and I needed to be smart if I wanted to make it out of this alive.

Compliance, I thought. Distraction. Conversation.

It was what Dad had done to stall Seth for as long as he could all those years ago. He talked to him. He distracted him. And even though Dad had ultimately been shot in the end, he had held him off until the cops were close.

Maybe I can talk this person out of doing something stupid, I considered.

It was a long shot. I knew that. Whoever it was had risked everything by abducting me in the first place. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try.

Trying was better than doing nothing at all.