Page 91 of Roaring Flames

Well, for the most part.

Just like clockwork, Vlad thrusts a stale piece of bread into my hands, followed by a cup of tepid water. I devour both items like a man possessed, not even caring about my dignity at the moment. I need to survive and return to Izzy.

Only when I’ve finished drinking the last of the water, the droplets falling into my empty stomach, does Vlad attempt to hand me another cup.

I don’t take it.

I’ve never taken it.

“Drink,” Vlad says gleefully, red spilling over the edges of the cup.

I eye the blood distastefully and then lift my icy gaze to his. Without breaking eye contact, I swat at the blood and listen to the satisfying thump of the plastic hitting the floor. Blood spills in all directions.

Fortunately, this particular room is designed for this. The floor is the only nice thing in this dank cell, the white tiles polished so meticulously I can see my reflection in them. I know, without even needing to look, that the blood has congregated towards a drain in the center of the room.

This cell was designed for blood to be spilt.

Vlad’s smile widens. He has come to expect this response from me, and it always fills him with a giddy type of glee.

“So you’re choosing to be difficult today,non?”

His thick accent instills me with a level of terror I try not to let show on my face. I didn’t fear him before. But the last few days have changed that. Conditioned me to tremble in his presence.

He pushes back his sleeves, unveiling hairy forearms, and takes a step closer.

I don’t move back, bracing for his punch.

His next words, however, are worse than any torture he can inflict upon me.

He holds up a rather familiar phone and dangles it in front of me.

“Who’s Gracie?” he asks nonchalantly, but I can hear the undercurrent of malicious delight in that one innocent question.

My phone.

That motherfucker stole my phone.

I don’t know how he was able to guess the password, but it’s apparent he’s been able to access it during the days I’ve been locked away.

I try not to let him see the terror coursing through me in blistering-hot waves. Try not to let him hear thesudden pounding of my heart, each beat slamming against my breastbone in rapid succession.

Outwardly, I keep my expression calm. Inscrutable. An impenetrable mask.

“I think she’s upset with you,” Vlad says conspiratorially. “She asked just the other day if you were mad at her.” He tsks his tongue disapprovingly. “What did you do, Grayson? Love her and leave her?”

My heart breaks for Izzy.

What must she think now?

I slept with her. Confessed my feelings.

Then abandoned her without a word.

She’ll probably think it has something to do with what we did. Or maybe she’ll even believe it has to do with her confession regarding that one guy, Ansel.

“Don’t worry,” Vlad continues, but in his excitement, his accent makes that one word sound like “vorry.” He waves the phone in the air once more. “I texted her back. Told her I needed space.”

He winks then, and my heart crashes into my stomach like a one-hundred pound clump of cement.

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