Page 18 of Captivated with Them

Chapter Eight

Dillon

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ONCE MEATHEAD HAD LEFT, it hadn’t taken me long to free my other hand from the pipe, though all I’d achieved since un-taping myself was being able to move more freely around my prison.

The first thing I’d done was check the door. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest to discover it was locked. Meathead didn’t look as though he relied too heavily on his brains, but locking a door was ‘keeping a prisoner 101’. There wasn’t even a handle, which told me the room could only be opened from the other side. This was definitely a room where the Capellos put someone when they wanted to forget about them.

I’d long since finished the pizza I’d been brought, but I’d made the water last a little longer. I had no idea when, or if, someone would bring me more. They might not want me to die down here, but I was sure they didn’t care if I went through a fair amount of suffering.

In the dark, with nothing to do except wait, I discovered it was impossible to tell the passing of time. I lay down on the cold floor and made a pillow out of my arms and dozed a while. The sense of both not knowing how much time passed while I slept, and the possibility of someone coming in here and doing something to me, made it hard for me to fall into a full sleep, however. I hovered on the brink of sleep and wakefulness until I eventually gave up and got back to my feet.

There had to be a way out of here.

I turned my attention back to the door.

I’d have normally expected a cellar door to be made from wood, but I assumed this was some kind of composite—almost indestructible.

With no handle to use, I ran my fingers around the edges of the frame, trying to find a crack I could use to perhaps loosen it, but there was nothing I could get a hold of. Instead, I took a couple of steps back, barreled my shoulder, and slammed my body against the door.

It was like running into rock. The impact sent pain jarring through me, and immediately the throbbing in my head from where I’d been hit started up afresh.

Shit.

The door didn’t feel as though it was going to open anytime soon.

I couldn’t just give up. Though I couldn’t see anything, there might be something in here that would be of use, or maybe another exit I hadn’t found yet. There was oxygen in this room, so it couldn’t be completely sealed off. There must be a vent somewhere, perhaps positioned up higher in the walls.

I took my time—it was something I suddenly found myself with plenty of—and placed my palms flat against the cold stone wall. Working slowly and methodically, I patted across the wall, and then down and back across again. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find, if anything, but it was better than just sitting there, waiting for one of the Capellos to decide what to do with me.

I hadn’t decided for sure what way to play this. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could fight and try to escape, or I could try to get on the side of the Capellos. Actually, I had three choices, but the third one was to sit around and wait for them to decide what to do with me, and I’d already ruled that out. Once Rue had testified against Joe Nettie, what use would they have of me? For Rue, they would most likely sell her on, or keep her for themselves, but what were the chances of them releasing me?

That they still had Rue put a dampener on the idea of escaping. What if they hurt her to punish me? My mind whirred. I couldn’t have that.

But what if you’re in the same building as she is? What if you could escape and take her with you?

That would be a perfect situation, but I wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would be that simple. I was unarmed, and I didn’t know where she was. Managing to escape and stumbling across her at the same time would be nothing short of a miracle.

I needed to figure out a way to make myself useful to the Capellos again, but they most likely wouldn’t believe a single word I said.

Lost in thought, I kept going, feeling my way around the inside wall of my prison.

My fingers touched metal, and I paused.

It was positioned high on the wall. A grate of some variety. I licked my finger and held it up. A coolness wafted past my damp skin. Definitely ventilation. Did it lead to the outside?

I hated being in the dark. I blinked against the blackness, but it did no good. I felt around, trying to get an idea of how big the vent was. Not huge. Big enough for a child, or a woman with Rue’s build to get through, perhaps, but certainly not me.

“Fuck it.”

My voice sounded too loud in the darkness.

I wasn’t done yet. I kept going, searching every inch. When I got to the pipes I’d been tied to, I checked around and behind them. I didn’t know what I was hoping for—some clever person secreting a gun away for a lucky prisoner to find, perhaps— but there was nothing.

“Shit.”

With nothing else to do, I let out a sigh and sat back down on the cold floor, my back pressed up against the wall.

I had no option but to wait.

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