Page 66 of Colton
I force my eyes open to see the blurry bunker ceiling and half of the night sky, telling me I’m in the fucking doorway. I try to move, but dizziness sweeps over me, holding me captive. I blink a few times and give myself a minute before rolling onto my side, my stomach threatening to empty all over the floor as I try to regain my balance. My eyes fall on the fire extinguisher, and I can’t help but fucking chuckle.
My Little Bird hit me with it, didn’t she? I manage to get to my knees, holding onto the doorframe before squinting at where my car should be.
It’s gone.
Fucking hell. She took it. I should’ve seen this coming. I knew she had a fire in her, but I underestimated just how far she’d go.
I push myself to my feet, feeling the world spin for a moment before it settles down. Every goddamn movement sends a jolt of pain through my head, but the growing anger helps me focus. I make my way back into the bunker, needing something to steadymyself. I grab a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and take a long, burning swig, relishing the heat as it goes down. It’s a distraction from the pain, a temporary escape from reality.
The voices in my head start buzzing, a cacophony of whispers and accusations. One part of me, the part that sounds too much like my father, scoffs at my weakness. The other, the voice that’s been quieted for so long, offers a fleeting sense of concern. I can’t tell which is real and which is just my mind playing tricks on me.
I lean against the wall, my mind racing.
How could I let her get the jump on me?
I knew she was dangerous, but I never thought she’d hit me with somethingthatfucking heavy. The memory of her face, full of determination and rage, flashes through my mind. She’s not just a victim in the game; she’s a player, and she’s good.
I take another swig of whiskey, feeling the alcohol start to numb the pain. I need to find her. I need to know what she’s up to, what her next move will be. The thought of her out there, unprotected, drives me crazy. She’s a loose cannon, and I’m the one who lit the fuse.
But there’s something else too—a sense of admiration. She’s fierce, unpredictable, and fucking beautiful. She reminds me of myself, or at least the parts of myself I wish I could embrace. The parts that aren’t tainted by my father’s influence, that aren’t weighed down by guilt and fear.
For fucks sake.My head is spinning.I can’t deal with shit like this.
I push off the wall, ready to face the consequences of underestimating her. I need to get to a phone, contact someone who can help me track her down. I just hope she isn’t stupid enough to go to the police or worse yet, my father’s house.
My head swims and my vision blurs so bad I have to hold onto the wall. I can’t go anywhere like this. I drink more of the whiskey, then slump onto the sofa.
Sorry, Little Bird, but I can’t save you yet. It’s all your fault anyway.
I wakeup the following day with a thumping headache and pain down the right-hand side of my face.
When did I fucking fall asleep?
I sit up too quickly, and nausea hits me, but I grit my teeth then take a deep breath. After everything I’ve been through, I can get through this. The bunker door sways open, allowing ice cold air to fill the room. I shiver but stop and think. If my dad knew where I was, how come he isn’t here? It’s not like him to make idle threats.
But then again...what if he’s found Luella and decided not to bother about me? Panic seizes my chest, and I search for my phone frantically. I locate it by the door and turn it on, ignoring the voicemails that await me. I need to find her.
But how?
I dial the first person who comes to mind: a cop who owes me big time.
“Hello?” he answers nervously, probably still scared of the mob coming for him.
Prick.
“I need to find someone.” I head to the bathroom, staring at the massive lump rising rapidly on my forehead.
Mother fucker, my Little Bird got me good.
I tell him about Luella, and he stops me with excitement, his voice practically cracking like a fifteen-year-old boy.
“Colton! She was here! Blonde, looks like she hasn’t slept in a while?”
My heart screeches to a stop. “When?” I bark out, wincing when my head rings.
“She was here a few hours ago, I can find out?—”
“Send an unmarked car. I’ll text you the address.”
