Page 129 of The Packaged Deal

We drive in silence for a long time, though it’s probably not that long at all. Time’s lost meaning as I focus on one goal: escape. My hands are numb by the time we stop. But we don’t just stop on the street. He drives into an underground carpark. The darkness is terrifying, but I push my fear aside.

It’s critical that Trevor doesn’t think I’m resisting. I need to push back the time until he starts hitting me, delay it so I can escape.

He gets out of the car and pulls open the backdoor, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me from the vehicle.

My scalp explodes in agony. I swear, he’s torn it off. I hold the cry between my teeth as he sets me on my feet, then picks me up by my waist and throws me over his shoulder. I’m relieved he’s let go of my hair, but the throbbing gets worse. I swipe at the tears that have run out of my eyes reflexively with my bound arms. The stench of BO is super strong, and I realise the clothes that might look clean are actually filthy.

He carries me through a door and into a huge dirty stairwell. The stairs are marble or fake marble, with rubber linings. There are railings on both sides of the stairwell, scratched and scuffed, and the walls are an off yellow colour that I don’t think is intentional.

He carries me up nine flights. I know because I count the doors. Four of them, while I’m trying to stop my face from bouncing into his back.

I don’t know what happens, but he grips me harder, his fingers biting into the back of my thigh.

I grind my teeth and refuse to make a sound. Even when I want to cry at the feeling of how bad it hurts.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, stabbing them into the lock and opening the door. It barely stays on its hinges, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

I scowl at the inside of his house. Wait! It’s not a house. It’s a huge, big, empty space. A filthy space. Is that a shit on the floor? And a bucket of urine? I glance around, taking in all the needles. My skill crawls. There is no furniture. Is he planning on killing me? Fear sends chills down my body.

It’s almost worse being here than if he took me to a house. There’s no hope here. Less opportunities to escape.

He throws me down on the ground.

I cry out despite my intention not to. My hip aches badly, and I know I’m going to be bruised. But it’s the skin around my wrist that bothers me. When I look down, I see that I’m bleeding.

I sit up and watch warily as Trevor paces the apartment. He’s acting crazy. Acting insane. The pacing, the manic whispers. What’s wrong with him? I glance around, spot the needles again, and look back at the alpha. Is he having a drug-induced breakdown?

“Trevor, are you okay? You seem a bit upset?”

He whips around as if he forgot that I was even there. His eyes flash with something, and he stalks towards me, grabbing me by my throat and pulling me up to my feet. He doesn’t let go.

I wheeze and kick, but it does nothing. His eyes look wild, inhumane.

“Did you find him on purpose? Just to hurt me? To scare me? Did you know I’ve been looking for him?”

“Him? Trevor, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice rips out of me, a hysterical whisper as I fight for air. It’s hard to swallow, and fuck, it’s hard to breathe with my heart racing and pounding the way it is. My eyes ache with a growing pressure, and there’s a dull roaring in my ears.

I think he’s going to kill me.

Fear flutters in my chest like a bird trying to fly. He’s going to kill me, actually kill me, and I have no idea why.

“What are you talking about?” I rasp out as I start to get weaker.

“Ivan!”

“Ivan?” I repeat. His fingers squeeze, and then he hurls me across the room. I bounce off the floor several times before I roll to a stop.

I lay there, sucking in air and coughing. My head throbs painfully, and all I want to do is bawl.

“That mongrel, that piece of shit who ruined everything! You fucking whore. Sleeping with the enemy.” With each word, I hear him stomp towards me. Fear beats in my chest. There’s no time to escape.

I curl into a ball as his boot crashes into my back. Pain spreads and spreads. Memories of the last time this happened crash through me. I can’t let him keep me down. I need to get up.

“How did you know?” He roars at me.

I curl up tighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My shrieks echo around us.

He squats and grabs my wrists, yanking them towards him. I get a flash of silver and scream. But suddenly, the pressure on my wrists is gone. A moment later, my feet throb as circulation returns. I lay there panting, and then try to push to my feet. Does he think I’ll stay here? Does he want me to run? Can I even run? I don’t know how hurt I am but it feels bad right now.

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