Page 62 of Reignite

Revenge

My loft was dark like the power had gone out and I’d just set my keys on the kitchen counter, ready to call maintenance to see what was going on.

“Hello, Angelina.” Foster’s cold voice pierced me, a thousand needles hitting my skin and penetrating down to my heart.

I swallowed my scream and backed away, fumbling with the phone to call 9-1-1.

Santa Maria, madre de Dios. Sálvame.

Foster stood and slowly moved across the room toward me. He had a cane and a limp, but no wheelchair in site. “Don’t bother with your phone. I’ve set dampeners all around your apartment. No signal is getting in or out of here.”

“Stay away from me.” I threw the phone at him and grabbed a knife from the block on the counter.

Maybe I didn’t want him to stay away. If I could lure him closer, I could stab him. Kill him.

He deserved to die.

Foster laughed at me. “I can’t do that anymore. See, I’ve gotten stronger playing this cat and mouse game with Baker. Chasing him has done more than years of physical therapy. You’re the key.”

My hands shook. Good. If he thought I was afraid of him, he would come closer. “You’ve already had your revenge. Gray is dead. What more do you want?”

“Is that what they told you? Pretty lies for a pretty stupid girl.”

Pendejo. He wanted lies? I’d give him lies. Instead of backing away, I pushed away from the wall I was pressed against and I pointed the very sharp tip of the knife at him, right at his cold dead heart.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You think you’re broken? I lied back at the club. Whatever you had with Serena wasn’t love. You don’t even know what that word means. You… vete al demonio. I had love.”

Foster had taken it from me. Not the way he thought Gray had hurt him. Foster didn’t know what hurt was. He would.

He continued to advance on me. “Put your toy down before you hurt yourself. You wouldn’t want me to have to kill you before you get to see him again.”

A rush of blood and a ringing, like the day of the explosion, burst through my ears. The knife clattered to the floor and I dropped to my knees.

Lies. Foster had to be lying. “Gray is dead.”

“He will wish he had been.”

His cane bashed down onto my head and my last thought before I passed out on the cold tile floor was only blackness.

* * *

I couldn’t breathe right.Something was stuffed in my mouth. Either the room was dark or I was blindfolded. I couldn’t move feel my hands, something had cut off my circulation. A hot burning drip, drip, drip fell on my shoulders. On bare skin.

“I thought that might wake you.” Foster’s voice sounded from behind me. But also from far away. Like he was talking through a speaker. “This wouldn’t be half as fun with you unconscious. Besides, I know how you like predicament play.”

“Where’s Gray?” The words were muffled through the material blocking my mouth, but he got the gist.

“I thought you didn’t believe me? Let me show you.”

He definitely wasn’t in the room with me. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

A beam of light came from that direction and spread out across the room. Oh Dios. We were at the club. It was either very early, or very late because no one was here.

I was in one of the glass voyeur rooms, tied to a chair, naked.

The light was from a projector and shined up onto a screen on the stage. It showed a picture of Gray.

He was crossing a street and talking on a phone. His normal scruff had grown into a beard like I’d never seen on him before and one of his arms was in a sling. I recognized the street he was on. It was the one outside of The Asylum.

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