Page 16 of The Fire Went Wild

As it turns out, the bowl on the table is filled with oatmeal, congealing in the cool air of the room. It actually looks kind of good; there are pecans and strawberries and mini chocolate chips sprinkled on top. A pitcher of water, an empty glass. I frown at the setting. Hadn’t he said he’d bring me breakfast if I got quiet? Expect I hadn’t got quiet.

Until you fell asleep.

That irritates me, that I gave him what he wanted. So even though I’m hungry and my throat is dry, I don’t touch any of the food or water.

But then I see something else on the table that leaves me feeling cold and shivery. A yellow sundress.

Myyellow sundress, the one I distinctly remember throwing in my luggage back in California. It’s currently folded up as neat as a store display on the lawn chair. My bra sits on top of it.

The motherfucker went through my suitcase.

Went through my suitcase to, apparently, bring me a change of clothes, but still.

Something about the clothes makes me feel even more suspicious. Why the hell is he being nice? I’m his prisoner. Hethinks he can’t kill me for whatever fucking reasons, but I’m still chained up in here.

I won’t touch anything on the table. No way. Absolutely not.

I move around the rest of the room instead, the chain dragging behind me. It has enough slack that I can touch every wall except the one with the door. I spent a few minutes studying the weird mannequin sculpture, just long enough to determine that the bones have been epoxied into place and I won’t be able to pry one off to use as a weapon.

Long enough, too, to see how big they are. How familiar. Bones I’ve seen in high school science textbooks and doctor’s offices.

I pull away from the mannequin, my skin crawling, trying not to think about why that thing is in here. A warning of what he’s doing to do to me?

I can’t kill you, he said, but what happens when he decides he can?

No. Nope. I will get out of this before then. I’ll find out what he did to Edie, and I’ll get the fuck out of here.

I investigate the curtains next. They’re thick and dusty, and when I push them open, I’m disappointed by the sight of the thick metal bars caging in the windows. I peer through the glass, trying to get a sense of place. I’m on a second floor, that much is clear. Directly beneath me is an overgrown garden, thorny dead roses competing for space with wild shrubs. A few yards from the house is a metal shed, although it’s hard to make out any details through the window’s ancient glass, everything wavy and distorted.

Other than than that, the house is surrounded by the lush, verdant tangle of the Louisiana swamp.

I tug on the window. It won’t budge.

“They’re painted shut.”

I shriek when I hear Jaxon’s voice and jerk away from the window, chain rattling, to find him standing in the doorway. Neatly dressed, long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Barefoot. Something about him reminds me of a jaguar or a panther—a big, sleek, dangerous cat.

“Okay.” I hate that he caught me unaware.

“Even if you could open them,” he continues, “nobody will hear you scream. This is the only house for ten miles. We’re in the middle of the marsh. It’s mostly wetlands.”

“Thanks for the ecology lesson.” Why the fuck am I doing this? Sassing him? It’s like I can’t stop myself the second I see him.

“If you want an ecology lesson,” he says coolly, “I’m happy to give you one. I’ve lived here my whole life.”

I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that. I can’t tell if he’s joking. Or if it’s some kind of veiled threat.

And his handsome face doesn’t give anything away, either.

“I don’t want an ecology lesson,” I snap. “I want to know what you did to Edie Hensner.”

Thatdoesget a reaction. A coldness washes over his features, and his mouth draws tight and thin. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

“But you recognized her name.”

His expression turns even colder. Cold enough that fear curls around in me, strangling out the bravery that’s gotten me this far. I’m glad I’m on the other side of the room from him. And glad he stays put in the doorway.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I brought you,” he says.

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