Page 44 of Pretty Poisoned

I understand that Luca is dangerous, like they said. He's probably the one responsible for Bridget's death and maybe another girl, too, from the sound of it.

"You look so sexy when you're scared," he whispers into my ear. "Be careful with that."

"Go back to the house, Teagan," Declan says. "And you're not leaving again—not until I tell you to."

I don't argue. How could I? I'm in a secluded area in the woods with three men more than twice my size.

Desperate to be back inside the home with the rest of them, I take off down the path back to the house. I don't hear them follow.

And when I get far enough that I can no longer hear their muffled voices or see their silhouettes when I look back over my shoulder, I run.

NINE

Once I started running, I didn't stop.

By the time I reach the house, I'm sweaty and winded. I close the door behind me, grateful both for the false security that comes with being indoors and that the first floor appears to be empty, and then head upstairs to Layla's bedroom, locking the door behind me.

She isn't here, either.

I take off the coat, sit at the edge of the bed, and try to get a fucking grip and process what just happened with Luca.

And beyond that, what does it mean for me between now and Wednesday with no cell phone?

But it's a big house. There are a lot of people here; maybe they'll just ignore me.

The silence isn't helping, but I'm not about to start roaming the halls. I turn on the TV only to be disappointed again.

Of course. There's no wifi here—I should have known better. It looks like there is a DVD player, but from what I can see, there aren't any DVDs in this room. And you know what else isn't in this room? A fucking clock. I realize I've had no concept of whattime it is since I saw the clock on the microwave this morning at 11:00 AM, and it makes me fucking crazy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm in one of those horror movies I obsess over, and I don't love it.

A young woman trapped in a secluded mansion in the mountains in the middle of winter—no one is looking for her, and there's no way out.

I lie face down and scream into my pillow until my lungs hurt.

Then, I remember what River said earlier—that if I got lost, I could follow the river downstream, and I'd eventually run into the main road in town.

It's better than freezing to death, and it's better than dying here like all the other fucking idiots in my favorite movies.

I make a decision. Tomorrow, as soon as I get the opportunity, I'll go. I think I've seen all there is to see here anyway.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when the doorknob begins to turn back and forth. I wait, and when it stops, there's a knock.

"Layla?" I call out hopefully.

There's no answer; I hear more fumbling with the doorknob before the door creaks open. When Declan walks in, I sigh and lie back on the bed.

So much for hiding out.

"Don't lock the doors in my house," he says.

"Why not?" I ask. "Doesn't look like it matters anyway."

He sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry about what happened in the woods."

Did he just apologize to me? I prop myself up on my elbows and look back at him with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"I think maybe it was a good thing, though. Don't you? Maybe you can understand now that Luca is just…unwell."

"I'll stay away from him…until Wednesday, like you said. But I am not the one seeking him out. I haven't done that, not one time. And I still don't understand."

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