Chapter 65
sixty-five
EZRA
The first thing I’m aware of is how cold it is.
I’m so fucking sick and tired of being cold.
Getting hypothermia once was enough. I had a winter jacket on, but whoever hit me seems to have relieved me of it.
The second thing I notice is the smell. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was floating in the middle of a septic tank.
My other senses slowly come back online.
I can hear muffled crying, but when I crack my eyes open to see where it’s coming from, there’s no light.
My limbs are stiff, but I’m able to get myself into a sitting position.
The ground under my palms feels like dirt and when I feel around, my fingers connect with a concrete wall.
I must be in a basement. Maybe a root cellar.
My first instinct is to scream out for Maverick, but I don’t want to alert anyone that I’m awake.
Jo was in the house with the guns, so she should be fine.
There could be cameras in here, but I can’t see any red lights indicating night vision, so I don’t think so.
The soft sobs sound feminine and like whoever it is must be trying to be quiet.
“Hello?” I whisper. I need to figure out who’s in here with me and see if they know anything about where we are. The easiest assumption is that Patrick grabbed us and took us somewhere, but I need to verify.
The cries stop suddenly with a small gasp. Maybe she thought a dead body was tossed in here with her.
“I won’t hurt you.” I try to keep my voice calm and low, even though every part of me wants to beg her for whatever information she has.
“Was anyone else put in here with me?” I’m met with nothing but silence.
I think about getting up and feeling my way to where the crying was coming from, but there’s a chance if I scare her more, I’ll never get answers.
“My name is Ezra. I was taken from outside my house along with my boyfriend, Maverick. I think the man who took us is probably named Patrick. If there’s any information you could give me on where we are, who is here, or if you’ve seen anything, I would really appreciate it.
” I hold my breath, hoping that being honest will get whoever is in here with me talking. There’s a sigh and some shuffling.
“She’s been looking for you just as long as she’s been looking for me.” The voice comes from my left, closer than I thought. She sounds raspy and exhausted.
“She?” I ask. “This isn’t Patrick?” The stranger scoffs.
“Him, too.”
My mind races. Did Anderson betray us and Eva is still alive?
Maybe he’s just getting revenge on me for allowing his sister to be murdered.
Not that I could’ve done much to stop it from happening, but I don’t think revenge cares about the details.
I probably deserve it anyway. Hopefully, that means Maverick isn’t here and is safe somewhere.
“When’s the last time you saw Eva?” I ask.
“Could’ve been weeks or hours. Time doesn’t mean anything here.”
“Did you see her when I was brought in here?” I ask. At this point, I’m just gathering information. I’m not sure this woman has much since it seems like she’s been here so long that the isolation and lack of light have caused her to lose any perception of night and day.
“No. Just Patrick and a goon.” She laughs, but it lacks humor.
“How many goons does he have?”
“You ask a lot of questions for a dead man,” she says before coughing. There’s a rattle behind it that makes me think she’s been in this damp basement since the weather turned cold, at least. That could be months.
“Are we dead and this is hell?” I ask. She laughs, and it turns into a coughing fit. I wince at the sound of her struggling to catch her breath, but there isn’t much I can do to help right now.
“Maybe it is, Ezra Irons. Maybe we’re where we deserve.”
“Who are you?” I ask again. I’ve always been taught that the most powerful person in the room is the one who holds all the information and right now that person isn’t me. I don’t like the feeling. I was powerless once, and it took years away from me living a happy life.
“Just a dead girl,” she answers, sounding resigned. I probably would be too if I was trapped in a room for months with my own piss and shit. Because there’s nothing else that smell could be.
I stand and put my hand on the wall, following it in the opposite direction of the woman until I hit the end and turn to follow the next one. I move slowly, but my feet don’t encounter any resistance. It seems like the only things in this room are the two of us.
“Bathroom bucket is in the corner to the left of the door.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. When I find the door and feel it out the best I can in the dark, I realize it’s thick metal with no handle on the inside. “Is this door the only way out?” I ask her, making my way back along the wall to where I was. I don’t think I need to get any closer to the bathroom bucket.
“Sure is,” she says.
I let myself slide down the wall, resting my back against it.
I’m in a pitch-black room with no windows, one unopenable door, a stranger who claims we’re already dead, and no idea where Maverick is.
Fuck. What if he got Jo, too? She wasn’t with us, and she can handle herself, but I can’t assume she’s fine.
She’s still a terrible shot, but her right hook could probably kill a man.
Neither of them is here with me, so I’m going to tell myself that I was the target and they’re both fine.
Then when I get out of here, there will be hell to pay.