Page 44 of Chain Me
A glance revealed that the space was empty. Taking a chance, I lurched to the stairs, straining my ears for any hint of noise. The upper level was deserted as well, but the heavy door had been left open, allowing a draft to blow loose branches and leaves across the floor. Each sound echoed like whispered admonishments.Run, Eleanor!
But to where? Darkness loomed beyond the doorway, impenetrable this deep within the property. I couldn’t even see the silhouette of the house.
Or anything for that matter.
I hesitated, racked with uncertainty. A part of me considered taking my chances and crossing the property anyway. Logic warned against it. I should hide instead. Wait for Dublin.
No.The second intrusion of him into my thoughts made me grit my teeth. No longer would I sit around playing the perfect victim, always awaiting his rescue.
I started forward, my muscles tensing to run. I didn’t even see the hand rushing from the shadows to grab me until it was too late.
“There you are!” Harsh fingers clenched my forearm, wrenching me forward, but my assailant loomed beyond my sight, too strong to resist.
I lurched, ripped off-balance, and landed on my knees. Instinct took over. I lowered my mouth to the unfamiliar grip, bared my teeth, and bit. The figure hissed in response, shoving me aside, and I spun, failing to regain my balance.Wham!Stars exploded across my vision as ringing bells banged a symphony in my ears. Pain came in slow, nauseating waves, each one stronger than the last.
“Damn! Are you all right?” A face appeared before me—tanned and handsome, balanced among a cloud of dark, curly hair. “Ms. Gray? Can you hear me?” Concern constricted his features as he flickered in and out of focus. So real one second. A ghost the next.
Until the world vanished altogether.
And I was alone.
Serpentine
“Ms. Gray? Can you hear me?”
I groaned, blinking my eyes open to a shadowy space lit only by a circle of orange light cast by a bulb hanging from a grayish ceiling. Damp, dank air alluded to an enclosed space with little ventilation. Somewhere underground? The crypt?
“Please, say something.”
I stiffened as my gaze settled upon the figure crouched beside me, his face half bathed in shadow.
“Thank God! You’re awake,” he breathed as our gazes connected. “How do you feel—”
“Where am I?” Panic shook my voice, but I was beyond feigning bravery.
As I struggled to regain my bearings, my gaze darted around the room. It was small, formed of water-stained walls that resembled concrete. A floor composed of the same material sported a rusted drain a few feet away from me. Otherwise, there was nothing else in sight but a wooden door in a far corner.
“Safe,” François said. “Try not to move. You hit your head pretty hard.”
My head.I attempted to lift it to no avail. My entire body felt heavy, weighted down as if by stones. It took three tries before I could move my arm more than a fraction. When I finally brought a trembling finger to my forehead, warm liquid coated the tip.
“You’re bleeding,” François admitted, grimacing. “A little pressure and it will stop in no time though.” His wide-eyed expression contradicted the confident tone. He was a good liar as well as an expert driver, it seemed.
But hemorrhaging to death was the least of my problems.
Dublin was going to kill me anyway—if he weren’t already resigned to my death. Stone walls and distance weren’t enough to slow him down. This long without his sudden intrusion could only mean one thing.
What if he wasn’t coming at all?
“Please don’t move!” François reached for my arm as I tried again to sit upright.
I cringed from him, able to control my limbs with more accuracy. “Stay away!”
But he was the least dangerous of threats to my life.
The world pitched wildly beneath me, and I almost laid back down. My stomach roiled in time with my throbbing skull—a constant melody of pain. Making any solid observation was a struggle.
But I noticed François’ hands just fine—namely the weapon glinting in one.
