Page 114 of Rogue's Path
But it isn’t. You can feel the sweat rolling down your brow, hear your heart pounding in your chest, or the up and down motion of the breath leaving your body in violent pants.
I’m alive.
Rogue will save me?
Why isn’t Rogue here?
Maybe he is, and you just can’t see him. “Rogue,” I whisper. “Rogue, are you there? Wake up, Rogue.”
Maybe he’s still asleep. We were probably drugged.
But how? The food came right from the hotel kitchen to our room. How could he have possibly—That doesn’t matter. What matters is how am I going to get out of here?
You can’t wait for Rogue to come rescue you. Though he feels like he has superhero powers with all those muscles of his, in reality, the hero rarely rescues the damsel in distress.
First, figure out how you’re tied down.
Is it a rope or a chain?
There’s a different weight to chain. A different texture.
Close your eyes and focus.
Why do I need to close my eyes to focus? There aren’t exactly any distractions in the pitch black. I shimmy a little. It’s a rope, not a chain, wrapped several times across the middle of my arms and under my rib cage and just below my hips.
My hands are pinned down with the rope below my hips. If I keep shimmying, I might be able to slide them out. This feels like some sort of weird Pilates move. Why did I only take a month’s worth of classes before I moved on?
Because it was research for a book, and after that you took parkour. Now that was fun, even though I couldn’t get very high up the wall. I blame my big booty, not my general lack of athletic ability.
Shimmy, lift your butt, push it down into the mattress.
I can definitely hear my trainer saying, breathe in and out slowly, feel it in your core.
My core feels it. Am I even getting anywhere?
The light flicks on, sending a quick, shooting pain through my eyes.
When the black spots disappear, a basement or…what is the word for a pantry built underground? I know the word. Why can’t I remember it? It doesn’t matter what the word is. You can look it up later when you get out of here.
There’s only one visible door with a fairly simple lock to pick on it. If you had your lock-picking kit.
Which you don’t.
There’s got to be something among all the junk on the shelves that you can use.
The door rattles.
He’s coming.
Any second, my stalker is going to step through that door.
Stay calm and look for a way out.
You can do this.
You won’t be one of those silly women who screams her head off.
The door opens, and a shadow man with a dead…or passed out woman in his arms stands there.
