Page 3 of Under Fyre

“Ourguestisn’t receiving visitors right now,” I tell Arrow dryly as I head for the kitchen. “Guess you’re getting that walk after all.”

Chapter Three

Charlotte

I’m so terrified. I can’t even think straight. When I woke up a few minutes ago, the first thing I did was try the door.

Locked.

Then I went to the windows. They’re secured with a lattice of metal bars on the inside—the type a security-conscious owner would put up to prevent break-ins.

The windows can open, but even if I broke the glass, those bars are too narrow for me to slip through.

Same with the bathroom.

I was in there when I heard the door open. Someone had left a few books on the side of the bath—I armed myself with the biggest, heaviest one there was.

I’d hit Fyre over the head before I even recognized him. He looked surprised, but not as much as I was.

What the hell am I doing in Professor Fyre’s house,lockedinside his room while he brings me food like I’m some kind of invalid?

Maybe I’m asleep, and this is all some weird dream. But when I pinch myself, I can feel it. And no matter how much I silently scream at myself to wake up…I don’t.

Trying to think back makes my head ache, but I do it anyway.

The last thing I can remember is heading for the diner. It was raining, dark.

And now I’m here…whereverhereis. I can’t see anything out the window—just a big yard with tall trees that block out any neighboring houses. An electricity pole. Some wires.

I can’t see anyone either…and that means no one can see me.

I could shout, but I have a feeling I’m too far away from anyone else for that to be useful. Else, I’d possibly be bound and tied up, too.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

When nothing happens, when Fyre doesn’t return, the terror slowly ebbs away. My franticly pounding heart quietens.

That’s when the tremors begin.

I go through the room again, desperate to find a better weapon. There’s hardly any furniture in here. A built-in closet, a bed, a nightstand. None of them have anything I can use to hurt someone. There aren’t even razor blades in the bathroom.

But thereareclothes in the closet. And they’re all my size.

I immediately shut the door and pretend I didn’t just see that.

That’s it.

I’m out of options.

Slumping on the edge of the bed, I stare suspiciously at the carton of milk.

I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.

What the fuck did he mean? He wants to help mewhat?

The sun moves all the way across the sky before I hear the faint sound of what might be a car. I rush to the window, pressing my face against the bars and trying to peer as far to the side as I can.

A second later, a big brown dog comes into view. It walks quickly, but with a slight limp, as if its leg hurts. It starts sniffing around the base of a few trees, working its way to the back of the yard.

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