Page 80 of Ruthless Beast

19

EMILY

Imust have fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. I open my eyes when I hear Damon’s voice. For a moment, I forget where I am, but soon the memories of the day’s terrible events come flooding back to me, so I sit up.

“Can we go home?”

“No. I’m afraid that isn’t an option.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have to stay away. There’s been an attack at the mansion too. It isn’t safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have to trust me. I’ll get in touch with the boss as soon as I can. But, for now, we have to leave the city.”

“Leave the city! Are you crazy?”

“I want to talk to Lucas. Give me your phone, Damon.”

“No!” he barks.

His action takes me aback. Why is he being so weird?

“What’s going on, Damon? Why can’t I call Lucas?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me then.”

Damine walks over to where I’m sitting on the bed and sits down next to me. I move away from him, but he moves closer. Something about him is different. His body language is telling me to be on guard. I'm not sure why, but he’s creeping me out.

“I want to call Lucas right now, Damon. Right now!”

Damon pulls something from his pocket. Before I have a chance to react, he jams the object into my leg. I squeal as the sharp pain stings my flesh.

“Ouch! What the f…”

The world around me is spinning, and my ears pop. Suddenly, it goes dark as a wave of nausea hits me one more time.

I’m in a small, dark space. It’s bumpy. I hit my head against something hard. Am I in the trunk of a car? I call out, and soon the movement stops.

The sunlight streams in as someone opens the lid of the trunk. I get jabbed again before I pass out.

* * *

My mouth is drier than the desert sand, and I have a splitting headache. I open one eye slowly to survey the room, and then the other. Where the hell am I?

Damon! What the hell is he playing at? Why did he drug me? What’s going on? I’m in a room that looks like it’s seen better days. In fact, that’s too kind. It’s a shithole, and it smells of stale alcohol and vomit.

“Damon!”

My voice cracks. My throat feels thick.

I get up and move toward the door. I turn the handle, but the door is locked, so I bang on it.

“Damon! Where are you?”

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