12. Freya
FREYA
I wake up slow. Grogginess drags at my mind and something about that bothers me, but my bed is so damn comfy I can’t bring myself to care. I roll onto my side, pulling the comforter with me as I curl up in a ball and bury my face in the soft scent of home.
My brow furrows. I’m not at Carmen’s. It takes another five seconds for my brain to register I’m not alone. My fingers tighten around the comforter as I blink my eyes open. My gaze locks with River’s.
He’s sitting on an armchair in the corner of the room, his arms spread wide, one ankle resting on his knee. The drapes are open and shadows from the night sky play across his khaki-toned skin.
Bits and pieces from earlier flit through my mind, memories returning as I fit the puzzle together. Anger burns away the last vestiges of sleep and I surge up. I lean back against the headboard and glare at River. “Do I get an explanation or is you drugging me just the new normal?”
River’s gaze is steady, his voice emotionless. “Don’t be so dramatic, it doesn’t suit you.”
I reach for my knife. I’m still wearing my clothes from before the flight, but my shoes and jacket are gone. And so is my knife.
A silver blade glints in the dimly lit room as River lifts up his hand. “Looking for this?”
“I wasn’t going to throw it.”
“Yes, you were.”
“You drugged me.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just been drugged,” I snap. In actuality I don’t feel too bad. A slight headache pulses at the base of my skull but my mind is clear now.
River nods at a glass on the bedside table. “Drink some water.”
“If I pick up that glass I won’t be drinking from it, I’ll be throwing it at your head. Tell me why you drugged me.”
“You wouldn’t have let me put you in here if you were awake.”
My eyes narrow. We’re in my old bedroom at the guys’ house. “Why wouldn’t I want to be in here?”
River raises a single brow. “You’re out of practice. You’re usually more aware of your surroundings.”
The little hairs on my neck spike and I do what I should have done as soon as I awoke, I take my eyes off River and look around the room.
I notice the window first. It used to open from the bottom, wide enough for me to slip out, but the whole window has been replaced with a single glass pane. There’s no catch anywhere, no way to open it.
“The glass is bullet proof,” River informs me.
My mouth has gone dry. “To keep others out or to keep me in?”
River doesn’t answer, but I follow his gaze to the bedroom door. Except it’s not a bedroom door anymore, it’s a fucking steel security door with no handle.
My heart trips in the worst way, my chest tightening. “What the fuck are you doing, River?”
“Keeping you here.”
I tear my gaze off the door and focus back on him. His jaw is set, a frightening lack of emotion on his face.
“You’re a flight risk," he states like it’s some mathematical equation, not him taking away my freedom.
I fling my hand in the air, brandishing the bracelet on my wrist. “And this wasn’t enough? Have you lost your mind?”
River stands up, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “No, but I lost you and I won’t let that happen again.”
He walks over to the door and raps his knuckles against the metal.
I scramble off the bed, ready to slip out the second it opens, but my progress is halted when River spins around and I crash into his hold. His hand collars my throat and he walks me back to the bed.
I breathe through my nose, gripping his wrist as he continues to push me backwards, off balancing me until I land on the mattress.
The air rushes out of my lungs.
River leans over me, bringing his face inches from mine. Finally, I see a trace of emotion. Rage and lust swirl in his deep brown eyes. His gaze turns hooded as it drops to my parted lips and the hand around my throat flexes.
Apparently, anger doesn’t stop my core from tightening or my heartrate picking up. River’s scent surrounds me. Cedarwood and whisky like a drug to my head.
He runs his thumb up and down my neck and a slight moan slips from my lips. Two months is a long time and my body feels like an addict craving his touch.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper against his lips.
Metal clicks around my wrist. “It’s already done.”
River pulls away and I sit up, already knowing I’m going to find myself cuffed to one of the bars on the headboard. River was wrong though, I’m not out of practice and the knife I just picked from his pocket proves it.
River’s eyes drop to the blade as I flick it open. His lip ticks up. “Keep it. That way I can punish you when you’re tempted to use it.”
Every cell in my body vibrates with rage and I say the one word I never thought I would. “Melon.”
River freezes. The smirk disappears and pain cuts across his face for one sharp second before he closes his eyes.
When he opens them again his voice is soft but firm.
“I will not touch you again until you say I can but this,” he circles a finger around the room, “is to protect you. You can’t safeword your way out of here. ”
A jagged, razor-edged stone sinks down to the pit of my stomach. I tilt my head, trying to figure out how River became this cold. This… unfeeling. “What happened to you?” I ask.
Any trace of softness disappears as a dark veil shrouds River’s face. “You did.”
River turns his back and walks to the door.
Frustration fires inside of me. I curl my fist around the hilt of my knife and lift my arm but I can’t bring myself to throw it. So I just hold it there, frozen, and watch as he slips out, the door sealing shut behind him.
“Argh,” I groan, collapsing back on the bed. I lie there for a while, waiting for my heartrate to go back to normal and the tears to stop stinging my eyes.
This was not part of the plan. I knew the guys would be mad I’d run but this is a whole new level of crazy. How am I even supposed to help with the case if I’m locked in my room? Fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut and pull myself together. I am not helpless, and I am no-one’s prisoner.
I tug at my cuffed wrist. Yeah, this is so not going to work for me.
I roll onto my stomach and use the tip of the knife to pick the lock on the handcuffs. It’s a bit awkward but eventually they pop open and I’m free to explore the room.
I turn the light on and my heart squeezes as I take in the navy sheets and the built-in willow closets.
The light catches on the gold accents in the navy wallpaper and I have to stop for a moment to blink away the blurriness.
I don’t think I realized just how home sick I was until this moment.
I’m torn between how right it feels to be back here and how wrong it is that this room is once again my prison.
I run my tongue around my mouth to try and ease the lump in my throat and shake the emotions off. If River’s playing dirty, then so am I and I will find a way out of here.
I go to the window first, but it’s sealed seamlessly into the wall and one tap of my knuckles tells me River wasn’t lying, the glass is bulletproof. Even if I was strong enough to lift the armchair, I doubt it would be able to break the glass.
I search the ensuite next but other than being stocked with my favorite strawberry shampoo and conditioner there’s nothing of use.
The door itself is stainless steel and patterns of light fall across the silver surface from the lamp shade.
I trace my fingers along the edges of the metal, searching for any sort of mechanism but it’s sealed tight.
There’s no handle, no lock, not even a keypad I can try and hack.
There’s no way this door is opening from the inside.
“Fuck.” I hit the base of my fist against the metal and close my eyes against the rising panic.
I’m safe. River may be a bastard, but no one here is going to hurt me. I need to focus on that and not on the fact that I’m locked up.
Locked. Up.
My breaths come faster. The last time I was actually locked inside somewhere was when the guys first arrested me. I was in the interrogation room for less than five minutes before I escaped. This time, I don’t think I’m going anywhere and that terrifies me.
I spent every other day of my childhood locked in a basement and I can feel the trauma bubbling to the surface.
My skin crawls, the veins in my arms buzzing with adrenaline.
I back away from the door, breathing through my nose to try and stop from hyperventilating but each breath just makes the room feel smaller.
Darkness blurs the edges of my eyes, the space around me shifting out of focus as the concrete walls of the basement slam down in my mind.
I need to get out of here. I need to get the fuck out.
I try to fight it but I’m too tired, too scared, and the buzzing in my ears grows louder as I’m sucked into a flashback.
It’s my day to be in the basement. I’m stuck in here alone until Allie gets back from school.
She left me a story written on the back wall in our secret code, but I’ve read it five times already.
The basement is cold and even when I close my eyes and pretend to be on the playground the dank smell down here ruins it.
I lie down on the bare mattress. Maybe I can sleep some of the day away.
A tapping at the door has my eyes flicking open. It’s too early for Allie to be back.
The tapping gets louder and I creep up the stairs to the basement door.
“Hello, hello.” Tap. Tap. “I know you’re in there Little Star.”
I jerk back, tripping on the step, and the sound of his soft chuckle has me shuddering. No. No, no, no.
I stumble back down the stairs and press myself against the wall, getting as far away from him as possible. The urge to scream grows in my chest but I know no one will come. I bite the back of my hand instead.
“I could open this door you know.”
He’s lying. Only Daddy can open the door.
“Oh little staaarr,” the boy sing songs.
I press my lips together and bring my hands to my ears. The whoosh blocks out his voice but then a ringing starts.
I frown. The sound is wrong. Out of place in the dim basement.
I blink, my bedroom coming back into focus. It takes me a moment to realize the ringing is real and it’s coming from the bedside table.
I scramble over and pull the drawer open to find my old phone, the screen lit up with a call from Jude.
I press to answer, my hand trembling.
“You’re okay, just breathe.”
Jude. I sink into his voice. My brain is foggy and my body still feels like I’m six years old again, stuck in that basement, but I do what Jude says and breathe.
“Go to the window, Angel.”
I turn around, knocking my thigh on the bed as I stumble over to the window. I dig my nails into the base of the frame, staring out into the night. The moon is almost full, add to that the light from the streetlamps and I can see the red hued drive of the house clearly.
I am not underground. I’m not in a basement. This is my room, my home.
I rest my forehead against the glass. Well fuck, isn’t that just screwed up .
A tear slips free and tracks a path down my cheek, but the worst of the panic is receding. I look back down at the phone in my white-knuckled grip. This is the kindest Jude’s been to me since the guys found me at Carmen’s and a tiny spark of hope flickers in my heart.
“Let me out, Jude. Please.”
His breath flutters down the line. “I can’t do that.”
I grip the windowsill. “Yes, you can. I’m not going to run.”
Jude’s voice hardens. “That’s what you said last time.”
His words thump into my stomach. “Jude…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I didn’t have a choice.”
He goes quiet and the cracks in my heart widen. I’m tempted to hang up. To bury the phone back in the drawer but Alistair’s words come back to me.
I think you learned a long time ago to run away from the scary things.
I don’t want to run from Jude, not again.
“Jude,” I say again. “Talk to me.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Are you?”
Jude’s sigh travels down the phone but he doesn’t say anything.
I rub my thumb over the hem of his hoodie, the cotton soft against my skin. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
He’s quiet a little while longer and when he does finally speak my heart takes the bullet. “Because it hurts, Freya.” His sigh is heavy, tortured. “I love you, but it hurts, and I need time.”
The line goes dead.
I cradle the phone against my chest and curl up on the bed. Sweat and panic cling to me, the flashback still pressing at my skin. I want Jude here with me, holding me. But he couldn’t feel further away.
The pain’s too much to cry right now, I just seize up over the covers. Running away may have protected the guys but I didn’t realize how much damage it would do. I didn’t realize I was breaking us.