Page 173 of The Pact

Cole’s fingers dig into my skin until it feels like he might snap a bone.

“Let me go! Help! Help!” I scream out, hoping someone, anyone, hears me.

Panic hits his face. Then, he starts dragging me away from the hospital doors towards the parking lot. Fuck, this is bad. I throw myself to the floor, hoping that it catches him off guard, so he lets me go. Cole’s grip is too strong. He bends down and wraps his arms around me, lifting me and carrying me towards his Range Rover.

My legs kick out. I try to slam the back of my head into his face, but it doesn’t work. Every step closer to his car makes my heart beat faster. I know that if he gets me in there, I’m fucked. I need to stay here in the parking lot. By any means necessary.

Cole releases one of his arms to dig into his pocket for his keys.

This is my only opportunity. I wretch myself to the side, hoping to knock him off balance so that his grip loosens. Instead, he drops his keys on the ground and pulls me back to him so that we’re face to face.

“You’re going to make this worse. Stop fighting, Thea.”

“Fuck you, Cole.”

I let out the loudest scream I can muster. It rips through the night air. I only need one person to hear, one person to look at what’s happening.

Cole’s rage filled eyes shift to worry. Worry that he’ll be caught. He pushes me into something hard. Glancing up, I see it’s a light post. Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare to scream again. I’ll never stop screaming.

He pulls me forward suddenly and slams me into the light post. My head bounces off of the hard concrete.

The shock and pain of it silences me. My vision dances as I try to focus on Cole’s face. He pulls me towards him once more, then throws me backwards. My head must hit the light post again because everything goes dark and I’m floating in nothingness.

58

THEA

Pain floods my senses. I can’t feel anything beyond it. I think it’s mostly coming from my head, although my entire body hurts. My eyelids feel too heavy. Still, I try to open my eyes. It’s a momentary peek. I’m staring at my lap. I’m in a chair, I think.

My eyes fall closed, unable to keep the darkness from consuming me.

The next time I come to, I can finally think around the aching coming from the back of my head. Taking in a deep breath, I try to figure out what’s going on. What’s the last thing I remember?

I open my eyes—still staring at my lap, but this time I have the strength to keep them open. Lifting my head, my neck aches in protest. I push past it. In front of me is a living room, dim and only lit by the flames in the fireplace.

Old, plaid print couches and worn armchairs frame a small coffee table. There’s a deer head mounted above the mantel. By the look of the wooden walls and ceiling, I know I’m in a cabin.

To my left is a dining room table and three other chairs tucked into it. Mine is the only one askew. That brings me back to the feel of my body, which is stiff and aching. I try shifting my arms and legs. My wrists rub against something rough and scratchy. My feet barely move an inch as I try to push them outwards.

I’m tied up.

That’s when I feel the pain in my shoulders. It’s similar to the soreness I felt after Damian tied me up in my studio. My muscles throbbed from being in the same position for too long, but this is much more intense. How long have I been like this?

Memories come flooding back. Cole. The hospital. Sutton. The light post. Jesus fucking Christ. Cole must have knocked me out. My only goal in those last few moments was to make sure he didn’t get me in the car.

I failed. Wesley’s words pummel me. I didn’t fight like I wanted to live.

Where is he now? Aside from the crackling fire, it’s been silent since I’ve woken. I crane my neck to look behind me—an empty kitchen. Then I hear a door creak open. My head snaps to the one opening to my right.

“Oh good, you’re finally up.” Cole walks in with an armful of wood. He kicks the door closed and goes to the fireplace, dropping the logs next to it. In the firelight, I see that his light blue shirt, the same one I remember him wearing this morning as he kissed me goodbye, is stained. The dark smears make my stomach turn—blood. My blood.

I want to cry. How much had I lost? Was I dying? No, not dying. I’m awake now. If my injury was that serious I’d know it, I think. I remember hearing that face and head injuries bleed the most because the vessels are close to the skin. That must be why there’s so much on him.

Swallowing the thickness in my throat, I croak out. “Cole.” My voice is hoarse from screaming. “Please untie me,” I manage.

He smiles and walks towards me. Reaching out, he puts a finger under my chin and I have to force myself not to flinch. I need to stay on his good side for as long as it takes to get out of here. “My love, I can’t do that. You and I both know you’ll run.”

I wet my lips. “You can’t keep me tied up forever. I’ll need to use the bathroom, shower, eat.” I try to reason with him. He frowns.

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