Chapter 24
Elara
I wake up, feeling a soft blanket on top of me. Was all that a dream? God, I hope it was a dream and someone I trusted hasn’t betrayed me. I haven’t opened my eyes because my head hurts, but based on the movement, I think I’m in a car. When I hear Ryder cough, I know I’m safe and with him. My throat is dry, but I manage a whisper. “Ry?” The car screeches to a halt as he pulls over on the shoulder. With the way he whipped around in his seat to look at me, I’m surprised he didn’t get whiplash. I slowly sit up and he puts his hand on my cheek. I lean into his hand and put mine over it, “Are you okay?” He asks. “I think so.” I mutter.
He reaches over to the passenger seat, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to me. “Thank you.” I reply before drinking the whole bottle. “Please tell me it was a dream, Ryder.” I plead, tears welling up. He caresses my face as he says, “It wasn’t a dream, baby. But you’re safe now.” I nod as a tear rolls down my cheek. I then climb into the front seat and get into his lap, pulling him into a hug. I sob into his shoulder as he holds me tightly against his chest, holding the back of my head.
We stay like this for who knows how long before I finally get all my crying out. When I lift my head from his shoulder, I see the giant wet spot I left on his shirt and I snort. “Your shirt’s a little wet.” I say through a giggle. He moves his head to see it and shrugs. “I don’t care.” He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs. “How are your arms?” He asks, cradling my wrist. There are still red marks from the ropes. “A little sore, but fine. My head hurts, though.” I say. He grabs a bag from the passenger seat and takes out the pain meds I bought for him when he got shot. I take two and move over to the passenger side. Ryder waits for me to get settled before pulling back onto the road.
???
We’ve been driving for a few hours, mostly in silence and holding hands. Ryder hasn’t asked about what happened at the warehouse, and I’m fine with that. I don’t particularly want to talk about it right now, anyway. If I’m being honest, I’m still trying to process it all. Besides the lame reasoning he gave, I can’t for the life of me figure out why Hartwell would do this.
I’m also pissed at myself because I trusted him. But I had no reason not to. He’s been the director since before I joined. I didn’t think he’d be capable or even think about doing something like this. One more thing I got wrong. This entire trip has only made me question myself and doubt my abilities. Not to mention the overwhelming guilt that is running around my head. Ryder is involved in this shit because of me. I’m being used as a scapegoat so Hartwell can continue going undetected in his schemes, and I’m being framed for murder to go along with it. The fucking cherry on top.
I’ve never had a problem being an introvert. Sure, sometimes I wish I would get out there more, but I’ve just never been a people person. Even when I was a teenager, I was never at parties or out every Friday and Saturday night; I was usually at home, reading a book or something. The fact that it’s being used against me just boggles my mind. Out of all the things someone could use against me, and he picks that. I think I’d rather be blackmailed with a cringey selfie I took in middle school.
I stare out the window, watching the tall grass move with the wind. I’m not sure where we’re going, but since Hartwell expected us to die in a fire, it doesn't really matter where we go; I suppose. If he thinks we’re dead, then we won’t have to worry about him interfering in our investigation.
I obviously don't remember the fire because I got hit in the head, but given the splotches of soot on Ryder's face and arms, I think it's safe to assume that there was one. I'm glad he's okay. I knew that he'd find me. It was just a matter of when. I don't even know how long I was out before I woke up from the sedative. I still don't want to talk about it out loud yet, though, so I'll just continue to hold Ryder's hand in silence and let my mind wander while I watch the surrounding fields.