Page 23 of Bound to a Killer
At least with her knocked out, I have time to devise a plan, and I’ll have to do it fast.
She’s going to wake up ready to fight, looking for any chance to resist and push back. It won’t count for much, not with the sedatives still in her system.
That kind of fire she possesses drives her to keep going no matter the odds, and it’s what makes her particularly dangerous. In this case, though, too much force will only serve to burn her to the ground until there’s no trace of her left behind. And if I’m not careful enough, she’ll drag me straight into the flames with her.
I refuse to let that happen.
Tanner is right. Innocent as she may be, she’s not worth sacrificing everything else. If she wants to survive, she’ll have to stop biting the hand that feeds her. Because, like it or not, I’m all she’s got.
If she’s lucky, she’ll figure that out before it gets her killed.
8
ARIA
Broken fragments of men’s voices rattle through my aching skull, but I can’t piece them together to make sense of what they are saying.
The sounds fade in and out, and I can’t tell if they are real or part of a hallucination, but eventually, my muscles began to ease, and my thoughts stabilize. I’m no longer drifting with the relentless waves that once threatened to pull me under into their endless abyss. The harsh murmurs have snuffed out entirely.
I’m able to concentrate.
Although, I’m still stuck in darkness.
Trapped in thick shadows underneath my eyelids that, despite my best effort at straining against them, won’t budge open.
Panic soars within me, knocking out the little breaths I’m already struggling to pull in, but no matter how hard I strain against the paralyzing weight, I can’t get any part of me to shift.
I would have never described myself as claustrophobic prior to this moment, but being unable to control any part of myself is terrifying. It feels like I’m locked into a coffin wherethe air is thinning with each ragged breath, my lashes sealed with what feels like super glue, impossible to blink past. I’m blind. Mute. Paralyzed. Half alive.
The only parts of me still functioning are my unfortunate racing thoughts and pounding heart, which might be the next to freeze with how quickly my throat is closing up. Determined to relax, I concentrate on my fingers until I’m able to make them twitch against the firm surface. It has a bit of springiness to it, like a mattress—a bed. I’m lying in a bed.
The less I resist, the more air filters in. My eyelids twitch, then part, a stabbing burn piercing through my irises as the bright light floods in. My skull throbs. When I swallow, the back of my throat feels scoured raw, like burlap dragging across it.
Every inch of me hurts, but the physical pain pales against the harsh reality of where I am, back at the heart of the cabin.
Back tohim.
My vision, partially blurred, pans across the space searching for other signs of life, but I don’t find him anywhere inside. Using all the strength left in me, I lean to my side to glare at the wooden door.
Then I remember. My heart stills, eyes frozen at the entryway.
My pulse races as more increments of my failed escape come back to me—images of the blond stranger and his stern demeanor. The pungent alcohol-drenched cloth that he held over my mouth before everything faded to black.
I’ve been drugged.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, followed by a burning urge to scratch them away. I’m shivering, yet somehow still sweating through the thick layers of fabric…
Hold on.
I clutch the front of the oversized grey heathered sweater, twisting the fabric in my fists. I wasn’t wearing this when Ibolted out of here. The thought alone sends bile creeping up my throat.
Which one of them changed me into this? Do I even want to know?
The doorknob rattles, and I tense as I watch it slowly turn, my pulse racing. I refuse to think about what would’ve happened to me if I were caught when I first ran, but now that I’m here, dread locks me into place. I stay frozen as I watch him saunter in, his expression stoic and unreadable.
My fingers twist the front of the hoodie I’m clothed in as the knot in my stomach intensifies. We lock eyes. I pale. But his gaze doesn’t linger as he strides over to a narrow closet near what I assume might be the bathroom, a bucket lightly swaying in his hand. Bringing my attention back to the sweater fisted in my hand, I realize my arms were never tied. I try to curl upward, but with great magnetic force, my head slams right back onto the mattress, flaring my headache into a deeper, skull-splitting throb.
The closet creaks closed, but before he completely spins around, I snap my eyes shut in an effort to escape the wrath that’s undoubtedly going to be coming my way, this time welcoming the black void falsely offering me shelter.
