Chapter 6
6
SOFIA
I t’s been a long while since I heard Gideon’s footsteps fade down the hall. I’ve remained sitting with my back to the door, my knees tight against my chest.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry . I recite the words over and over in my head, burying the sobs threatening to escape, forcing them down into the recesses of my lungs.
What have I done?
I went against Luca’s wishes just to spite him and ended up in the claws of the man he was trying to protect me from.
I’m a smart woman. I hate that my father selected not only the school I would go to, but the subjects I’d study. Even so, I’ve pushed myself to get excellent grades. Sure, it was mostly to maintain the small level of freedom that allowed me to escape and have some actual fun. A party here and there.
It wasn’t until Luca that I’ve had to up the ante. He erected far more walls around my cage than I ever had, and my reaction was to smash them down.
The problem was, I couldn’t see what was on the other side. If Luca had been clear of the threat, I might have listened. Then again, I might not have.
I’m a smart woman that sometimes makes catastrophically stupid choices. This is one of them.
Okay, Sofe. You’re here now. You made a bad choice. Now make a good one. A clear headed one. Get yourself out of this mess.
I shut my eyes and take several deep calming breaths. My muscles loosen and some of the sheer terror of my situation releases its grip on me.
You’ll be fine. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Although, there are things far worse than death.
My eyes fly open and I push onto my feet. Fear clenches its grip on my chest and it’s hard to breathe once more.
Dammit. It appears I’ll just have to operate in this state of constant panic.
With my back still against the door, I reach out to both sides, feeling the wall for a light switch. When I find one and the chandelier overhead turns on, I realize that I’m not in the same room I woke up in.
Shit.
While the other suite had been large and undoubtedly feminine, this room is much smaller and masculine and from the looks of it, has been unoccupied for a while. The walls are a deep blue, the wooden moldings dark. A queen size canopy bed sits in the center, but the mattress is missing. Several other pieces of furniture—a chest of drawers, a wingback chair, and a standing mirror—are all covered with white linens.
I walk to the French doors and step outside. Placing my hands on the stone railing, I lean forward and look to the right, where I spot a balcony with the doors open. That’s the room I was in before.
Dammit.
That’s what he was saying when he called out to me. But there was no way in hell I was going to let him catch up. I wanted distance and a barrier between us.
Bad choices, Sofe. Bad choices.
It’s dark now, and cold, but the fresh air feels good on my face. I remain where I am a bit longer, surveying the black forest that surrounds the house. There’s no path through the trees. No road leading out. It’s just dense as far as the eye can see.
That’s why he needs a helicopter.
As my thoughts continue to swirl, I realize I’m subconsciously tracing carved lines on the balustrade. I look down and narrow my gaze to better discern the words.
Scarlet Was Here.
“Scarlet.” I whisper her name.
Who was she? Was she some poor captive girl imprisoned like me? How long was she here?
Long enough to feel the need to carve her name.
The image of a young girl comes to mind, frail and innocent. Scared. In my mind, she’s standing in this same spot, looking out into the same foreboding forest. Did she give up hope? Is that why she wrote her name?
Maybe she wanted people to know she existed. That she didn’t just fade away into the ether. She wanted someone to remember her.
“I’ll remember you, Scarlet. I promise.” I hope that wherever she is, she knows someone is thinking of her. “And I promise to find a way out too. For the two of us.”
The vow renews something inside me, hope or perhaps just the rebellious part of me that refuses to be willingly caged. I might be victimized, but never a victim.
Smart choices. Make smart choices.
First, I can’t leave right now. I’m so tired and my brain is still lagging from everything I’ve been through to think clearly. Though I hate to admit it, Gideon was right. I’d be an easy target for a wild animal. If the hypothermia doesn’t get me first.
My best bet is to rest, get my bearings. Think.
Obviously, this isn’t the room I was intended to stay in. It’s freezing and there’s nowhere to lay.
I go to the door and crack it open enough to peer out into the wide hallway. There’s nothing, no sound or person.
As quietly as possible, I step out and go left. Two doors down, I spot the one left ajar. My room.
Slipping inside, I once again attempt to be quiet. Unfortunately, the door shuts with an echoing clack.
Ugh. If Gideon was anywhere nearby, he would have heard it. He might come and check to make sure I’m not escaping.
Several minutes go by and he doesn’t appear. I let out a breath and set the lock. Then for good measure, I drag the chair from under a writing desk I just noticed, and push it up against the lever.
God, I’m suddenly so tired. I stare at the bed longingly, but for some reason, laying in it seems like giving up. Like I’m claiming this space as mine.
Instead, I grab the covers off the bed and drag them to the alcove with the stained-glass window and bench. It’s comfortable enough, thickly cushioned and wide, that when I curl up on it and rest my head against a green glass pane, my lids quickly grow heavy.
The walls of my gilded cage go blurry, and then fades away all together.
There’s something about the shadow on the wall. I stare at it, my vision hazy, trying to discern what to make of it. It’s moving, undulating, gathering itself until it forms a man.
Eyes like ice twinkle from the darkness. Eyes that burn in spite of their cold intensity.
“Gideon,” I murmur.
He comes to me, his face becoming clearer as he nears. “Sleep, my Little Bird.”
I wake with a gasp, my lids flying open, and immediately lock onto a pair of icy blue eyes. They stare back at me from within a dark little shadow on the pillow beside me. The pupils elongate as the cat focuses on me and a loud meow is let out accusatorially. You woke me up.
“Hi.” I say, somewhat confused and disoriented. “How are you here?”
The cat ignores my question and readjusts itself, digging its head deeper into the fluffy pillow before going back to sleep.
I sit up and take in my surroundings. Morning sunlight is streaming in through the French doors and the stained-glass window above the alcove where I’d fallen asleep, casting greens and blues and reds onto the bed I’m in now.
Wait. I’m in the bed?
“What the hell?” How did I get here?
The dream flashes in my mind. Blue eyes and shadows. Was Gideon here?
I turn to the door. The chair is still shoved under the brass lever and the lock is still set. Relief floods over me. It wasn’t Gideon. He didn’t come in while I slept.
“It must have been you I saw,” I tell the cat.
He makes a small sound of acknowledgement and purrs.
“You were in my dream?”
Another meow.
I must have sleepwalked. Though I don’t do it often, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. Actually, I was a pretty active sleeptalker when I was younger. But I would have to have been extremely tired to come across the cat as I made my way to the bed and somehow imbedded him in my dreams.
The question remains. How did a cat get in my room? Was he in here the whole time? Gideon warned me that the felines wanted in, but it didn’t occur to me that they probably already had infiltrated the house.
It doesn’t bother me. I always wanted a kitten, but Tony was deathly allergic.
“I shall call you…” I reach out to him and rub his silky black coat. “Winter.”
Grudgingly, I slip out of the warmth of the covers and go to the bathroom. After doing my business, I stand over the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look hungover. My hair’s a mess, sticking out at all angles, the bags under my eyes could be classified as straight up luggage, and my lips are dry and crusty.
I’m dehydrated, hungry, and… I tug my hoodie upwards and sniff. “Gross.”
Lucky for me, my captor was thoughtful enough to leave bottles of water on the counter and stocked the drawers beneath the sink with toiletries. I’m not sure if he did it specifically for me, or for any other unwitting guest.
“Horrible man,” I mumble as I grab the items I need—toothbrush, comb, lotion and deodorant.
I do a quick wash in the sink, scrubbing the parts I can without getting fully undressed. All the while, I scan everything, searching for any hidden cameras.
A knock on the door has me jumping and accidently soaking the front of my shirt. I snag the towel and hold it to my chest, my heart pounding.
“Sofia.” It’s Gideon.
Winter and I look at each other.
“Go away!” I yell.
“Breakfast will be served at eight, sharp. I expect you in the dining room.”
“Thanks, but you can just shove it up your ass.”
“Starving yourself isn’t going to do you any favors. Come down and eat, then you can lock yourself up again.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.”
I press my ear against the door and listen for any indication he might still be lingering. Nothing.
“He’s gone,” I say to Winter who could probably care less.
My stomach growls. Damn my bodily needs. I’m hungry, but I’ve just begun to protest.
To keep myself distracted, I decide it’s a good time to get acquainted with my suite. It doesn’t take long. By ten in the morning I’ve already searched the room top to bottom for hidden cameras or speakers. I’ve checked every corner and piece of molding I can reach. I’ve inspected every knickknack and suspicious looking knob. I’ve even flipped paintings, carefully run my fingers around the edges in case something was planted there.
When I come up with nothing, I relax, but only slightly.
I toss a fresh log into the fire before it dies out fully, then move on to dig through the chest of drawers. It’s stocked with silk panties and lacy bras. All new and my size.
“Lingerie. How convenient, eh, Winter?”
Next, I rummage through the wide closet. It’s full of clothes too. Fancy stuff, fashionable and beautiful. Outfits, silk blouses and skirts and trousers with the price tags still on them. The kind you’d find in a trendy boutique. Hell, this could be a boutique for all I know.
“Look at this. He even thought to put some gowns in here.” I tug one out of curiosity and gasp at the cost. Two thousand dollars.
“He really is insane.”
It’s a good thing I’m more of a T-shirt and jeans kind of girl, or I’d be tempted to try some of these on. Actually, I still would be if it wasn’t because I’m a captive here. I feel absolutely disgusting, my clothes are dirty with sweat and dirt from my escape attempt yesterday. But I can’t bring myself to give in.
Done with my search, I go to the balcony and scan the area. It’s a new day, but things look as bad as they did yesterday.
Acres and acres of wooded land stretches before me in every direction visible. I have no doubt that things aren’t much different on the other side of the house.
Winter, apparently done with his nap, joins me. He jumps onto the thick rail and bumps his head against my shoulder. His wintery eyes peek up at me expectantly. I bend down to kiss his velvety nose.
“Did you meet Scarlet?” I trace my fingers along a crack on the concrete balustrade near his front paws. “Did you keep her company?”
There’s another knock on my door. Winter bolts into the room as I nearly jump over the ledge. I hold my hand to my chest, my heart racing, and call out in annoyance. “Go away!”
“Lunch will be served at noon in the dining room. Come down and eat.”
“I’d rather starve!”
“Suit yourself.”
My stomach growls in protest of my refusal, but I will not eat anything that man has to offer. Especially if he’ll be there. Although the idea of stabbing him with my fork is definitely appealing.
Gideon announces dinnertime at seven. I send him off as before, only this time it’s with much less enthusiasm. Fuck, I’m starving. In fact, I’m so hungry, the acid in my stomach is threatening to make me vomit.
I press the palm of my hand into my belly and grimace.
Just a little longer. Hold on a little bit more.
With the many hours I’ve had to think and plot my escape, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I need a real map of the house. This, of course, can’t be done during the day, when I might run into my captor.
Once I know the lay of the land, I’ll be able to better plan. Otherwise, with my limited knowledge of my surroundings, the likelihood of finding a way to escape him is zero.
I came to this conclusion after carefully considering all my other options. First, I toyed with the idea of scaling down the side of the house. However, unlike Briar House where the walls are covered in wood siding, these walls are smooth stone. I could use a makeshift rope from all the expensive clothes in the closet, but I don’t have confidence in myself that I could make it secure enough. I’d fall and it would be lights out for me.
My only choice is to explore beyond my room. Gather intel. Not only get the lay of the land, but search for anything useful I can use against Gideon.
If I manage to survive this, I’m going to hug Luca and tell him how sorry I am for not listening. Then I’m going to slap him for keeping me so ignorant. In his effort to protect me from Sinacore business, he’s put me in a position where I’m fighting the man he described as his greatest enemy. I know nothing of Gideon Black besides the fact that he’s killed dangerous men for revenge.
And poor Scarlet. He probably killed her too. Was she here for the same reason I was? Did she become a pawn in a war she had no clue about?
“God help me,” I cry out softly, clutching my chest as I force myself to breathe. If Luca is scared of him, what chance do I have?
None if I don’t at least try. Besides, Winter is getting antsy. He’s got to be hungry, and whatever he eats is not in here.
“You can do this, Sofe.” I brace myself and push through the fear.
Carefully, I remove the chair from under the brass lever and open the door. I peer out into the darkened hallway, listening intently for anything that would give away someone hiding in the shadows.
When I’m satisfied Gideon isn’t going to pop out and scare the shit out of me like a jack-in-the box, I slip out.
“Come on, Winter. Quietly.”
As if he can understand me, he follows me as I make my way down the hallway and into the huge open gallery.
The stairway is clear, as is the hall across the way. I peek over the rail and confirm that there’s no one in the foyer down below either.
“Coast is clear.”
Damn, this house is cold. I rub my hands over my arms. I might not have to make it to the woods to die of hypothermia. Enough time away from the fireplace will do the job just fine.
Tightening the hoodie around my ears, I head to the first floor. This time, I don’t bolt for the front door. Instead, I tiptoe a few steps, scan the area, and go a little farther. Bit by bit, I get there, all the while checking every nook and cranny for the master of the house.
To my surprise, it’s unlocked.
Grabbing hold of the massive knob, I open it. No alarm is set off. No one comes out to apprehend me. Could it be this easy?
I take one step forward, out into the freezing cold and stop. I’ve never been afraid of the dark, but this is different. The moonless night is so obscure, all I can gleam are the stars above. The woods are black as ink, one tree is indecipherable from another. Just an endless abyss. If I couldn’t find a way through in the daylight, there is no way I’d be able to now.
Of course he wouldn’t lock the door. Why had I assumed he would? The walls of the house aren’t the true edge of my prison. It’s out there, in the forest, beyond where I can see.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not stupid enough to go out there now. But at least it gives me some insight into Gideon’s mind. He’s confident enough in whatever is out there to leave this door unsecured.
Winter meows as he stares out too. He’s not stupid enough to go out there either.
Getting back on mission, I move around the dimly lit rooms—the dining room with a table big enough to seat twelve, a sitting area I assume is designed to hold guests waiting on meals, and a two-story library.
On the other side of the foyer is the large parlor with the massive fireplace, the only one currently lit even though no one is in there. For a moment, I’m tempted to stand beside it and warm my hands, maybe even turn my back to it and warm up my ass too.
However, it seems like I’d be betraying myself if I enjoy any of the comforts afforded to me by a monster.
Blowing warm breath into my hands, I continue. Farther towards the back of the grand house, I find several useless parlors and closets. As I go, I peer out the windows, hoping to see something different, light beyond the trees that would indicate a house or a building of some sort.
Nothing.
I turn into a narrow hall with wooden paneled walls. There’s a set of locked French doors that lead into what appears to be a study. Gideon’s study.
If this wasn’t my first forage out of my suite, I might try to break into it. He leaves the front door open but locks this room?
“What are you hiding in there, Mr. Black? Dead bodies?” I scan everything within sight—the huge antique desk and the files neatly stacked on top of it, the wall of shelves containing books and sculptures, and the cabinets lining another wall.
There’s a huge fireplace too. Above it, a portrait of a man, but it’s too dark to fully make out. Except for his eyes. They seem to glow eerily and I swear they’re focused on me.
The already cold temperature in the room seems to plummet farther.
“Who is that?” I ask Winter as he slides between my feet. “Creepy.”
The painting might give me a sense of foreboding, but it won’t deter me. I’ll be back. Once I have gathered more information, this will be the first place I hit. I bet I could find a lot of incriminating evidence to take to the police on my way out. I’d hand it over to Luca of course. God forbid there might be stuff on him in there too and I unwittingly send him to jail.
A few more turns down narrow hallways, I come to the kitchen. It’s old, like the rest of the house, with cement floors and white subway tile on the walls. Pots, pans and dried herbs hang from thick rafters, and butcher block tables serve as counters. A deep white farmhouse sink is set against one wall, and a modern eight-burner gas stove and open shelf pantry on another.
Winter makes a strange chittering sound, and rushes off through an open doorway.
“Where are you going?!” I whisper-yell. I follow him to a narrow stairwell that spirals both upward and downward, the kind that would have been used at some point by staff. “Winter!”
I’m not going in there. Not tonight anyway. He’ll find his way back to me, I’m sure.
My stomach rumbles and burns, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Of their own accord, my feet move toward the stand-alone fridge set in a corner. I open it and discover that it’s not just well stocked, but a plate has been left covered in plastic wrap. A white post-it is attached to it that reads, Eat Me , in neat writing.
He knew. That monster knew I’d come down.
I slam the door shut.
Acid creeps up my esophagus. I grab an apple from the pantry shelves and rearrange the remaining ones so it doesn’t appear it’s missing. I’ll eat; my mission is to find a way out, not to die here. But I won’t eat anything he’s offering.
That’s when something in my peripheral catches my attention. The glint of steel sticking out of a knife block.
My lips pull up as I reach for a paring knife and tuck it into my back pocket. It’s little, but I bet it can make someone bleed just the same as any other.
With one last glance out the window that confirms there isn’t anything different on this side of the house, I head back to my cage.