Chapter Eleven - Elise
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Elise
I actually get to do something today.
I pry my body out of bed and make my way toward the dresser. Grabbing jeans, a T-shirt, and fresh undergarments, I go to the bathroom for a speedy shower.
Once my hair is dried and tied in a neat bun, a knock on the door signals that my breakfast has arrived.
I’ve just finished the food when Joshua enters, rendering me speechless as he does. He’s not dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans. Instead, he wears navy slacks and a matching jacket, and his hair is slicked back instead of its usual rustled mess.
The look is unreasonably attractive, but I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than admit that, so I’m careful to school my features into perfect neutrality.
His expressionless face studies mine intently, and I wonder if he’ll call me out on the faint blush creeping up my cheeks.
“How did you sleep last night?” he asks without an ounce of mocking in his tone.
I silently curse myself again for mentioning my nightmares in the first place. For some reason, he can’t seem to drop it.
“Fine,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
He accepts my answer, though we both know it isn’t the truth.
“I have something for you,” he states, and before I can ask what it is, someone in the hallway hands him a box. He gives it to me, and I place it on the table and take the top off.
Inside is a pair of light blue tennis shoes.
I hadn’t even considered the fact that I don’t have shoes of my own. Up until now, it hasn’t mattered, but working in the kitchen, these are a necessity.
There’s a foreign flutter in my stomach at the thought that he recognized I’d need these and took it upon himself to get them for me. I’ve taken care of myself for as long as I can remember, so I’m not used to someone else noticing my needs and meeting them.
But, once again, I refuse to thank him.
I sit on the bed to try them on. They’re a perfect fit.
“Ready to go?”
I nod and follow Joshua out the door, where Ryder is already waiting for us.
“Ryder will be your—”
“Babysitter,” I finish. “I’m not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but I’m not much of a threat.” I’m careful to keep my tone playful, though I mean the words.
Joshua’s eyes narrow with a warning, and my chest tightens. Have I just started another fight?
“He’s not here to protect my soldiers from you. He’s here to protect you from my soldiers.”
Goosebumps rise on my arms as I grasp the gravity of his warning. I know I’m the enemy—a prisoner—but no one would do anything to me, right?
Now I’m not so sure.
Joshua goes on. “If you need anything, just ask him. He’ll bring you back for the night around six.”
The three of us make our way down the hall in the opposite direction of the garden. This is good because I’ll get to see more of the layout. We quickly come across a stairway and make our way down. The space we enter is so open that it takes me a second to process it all.
This building is much larger than I originally thought. High ceilings and tall windows are the first things I notice. Next, I see the hallways on all sides, doors lining them. I can see into a few, and from the looks of it, they are various offices.
The last thing my brain processes is the people. Well, not exactly people. Men. There are armed men from all directions, and they’ve all stopped to take note of our arrival. I survey their expressions: disinterest, confusion, disgust, hatred, and lust.
The last one makes me shudder.
He’s not here to protect my soldiers from you. He’s here to protect you from my soldiers.
Looking at the faces that surround me, I know he’s right. Every one of these men would love to see my head on a stick or put it there themselves.
“Elise,” Joshua calls, and I realize I’ve stopped moving.
Fear and uncertainty root me in place.
I meet his gaze, but I can’t respond.
I can’t move.
Maybe going to work in the kitchen is a mistake. How do I know Ryder isn’t one of the men that wants me dead? Though I’m fairly certain no one would kill me without being given the order by Joshua, they’d hurt me in a heartbeat if given the opportunity.
For the first time, I see my room as a haven instead of a prison.
Irritation flares in Joshua’s eyes, and my fear spikes. I want to take a step forward, but my muscles are frozen.
I know the second Joshua has lost his patience.
His eyes flare, and he stomps toward me.
Despite the danger radar blaring in my head, I don’t resist when he grabs me by the shoulders and drags me to the side.
My only protest is a whimper when he inadvertently digs his fingers into one of the bruises on my arm.
He loosens his grip with a curse but continues to pull me.
“Out,” Joshua barks, and I try to pull away, but his grasp on me is unmoving.
I realize then that his words aren’t directed toward me but at two men in the small office that Joshua has taken us to.
Joshua slams the door and lets me go. “What the hell is your problem?”
My palms are sweaty, and it takes me a moment to find my words. Once I do, they shake with the nerves that wrack my body. “They’re going to hurt me.”
“Who?”
“All of them. Every single soldier in this building wants to see me dead, and nothing is stopping them from hurting me. I know I’m a dead girl walking, so why does it even matter? But—”
Joshua cuts me off with a step forward, closing the space between us and fixing me with his emotionless, analytic eyes. “No one is going to touch you. I warned you that people here don’t like you, but that’s why Ryder’s here.”
“How do you know he won’t hurt me?”
“Because I told him not to, and when I give an order, it’s obeyed,” he huffs, checking his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I need to leave so are you going or not?”
I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, willing my out-of-control nerves to cooperate.
A warm hand settles on the back of my neck, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes yet.
“No one is going to hurt you.” The warm whisper caresses my ear, and I realize he’s stepped even closer.
The words are so tender, so sincere, that for a second, I let myself believe that I’m safe. It’s a ridiculous notion since I am quite literally surrounded by the enemy, but Joshua’s gentle touch and firm reassurance are surprisingly convincing.
When I open my eyes, I’m struck by the softness I find staring back at me.
“Not as long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he adds.
The reminder of our arrangement breaks me out of my wishful thinking, and I know he’s done this for both of our benefits.
It’s not right that we should feel so comfortable with each other.
“I want to go,” I breathe, the shame from my panic attack settling in my stomach with a rush of blood to my cheeks.
Joshua was far kinder than I would’ve imagined him to be, and it’s for this reason alone that I mutter a soft “Thank you.”
His only response is to open the door and lead us the rest of the way to the kitchen.
We don’t pass anything that appears to be an exit, but I don’t let that bother me right now. I just focus on not having another panic attack.
We eventually approach a door that Ryder opens for Joshua and me. The kitchen is industrial and much larger than I expected.
Unsurprisingly, only men are bustling around—some working the grill, some chopping vegetables, some doing dishes.
Only one person seems to notice our entrance, and the short, light-haired man approaches us.
As he gets closer, I notice a large scar that reaches from his right eyebrow all the way to his chin, as if someone once attempted to cut out his face but only got halfway done.
He wears black slacks and a white button-up, but it doesn’t suit him very well. He looks like the type to sport ripped jeans and old T-shirts.
I also note the mix of annoyance and disgust that make up the glare he directs at me.
He nods respectfully to the man at my side. “Boss.”
Joshua accepts it with a nod of his own and looks at me. “Elise, this is Tripp Singleton. He’ll tell you what to do.”
“Today, you’ll be on dish duty. Come, and I’ll show you how it’s done,” Tripp orders, and his assumption that I don’t know how to do dishes is, somehow, far more sexist than if he were to assume it’s all I know how to do.
Joshua turns to go, and Tripp makes his way toward the sinks.
“Wait,” I call.
Both men turn to me—neither happy.
“Joshua, our deal was that I get to cook. Dish duty doesn’t count.”
His eyes flash a warning, and I know this is pushing my luck after my hallway freak-out, but we have a deal.
Joshua steps closer, talking low so only I can hear him. “Don’t forget that part of the deal was that you show me respect. Watch how you talk to me, or I’ll call the whole deal off. Understand?”
I nod, and he raises an expectant eyebrow.
“I understand,” I answer.
“Good.” Joshua straightens, directing his next words to Tripp. “Have her on cooking.”
I can almost feel the disdain rolling off of Tripp, but regardless, he replies, “Yes, sir.”
Joshua faces me. “I’m leaving and won’t be back until lunchtime tomorrow. If you need anything, ask Ryder.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He gives me an incredulous look that tells me my question will go unanswered.
“See you tomorrow,” he says, striding out the door.
When I turn to Tripp, his face twists with irritation the second Joshua is out of sight. “Come. I’ll give you a tour.”
The tour doesn’t take long. Tripp quickly points out each station—grill, oven, prep, and dishes. He leads Ryder and me down a hallway with the pantry and storage on one side and a break room on the other.
“You’ll be at the prep station,” he tells me and walks me through the procedures, though it’s pretty self-explanatory.
All I need to do is take food out of the freezer and prepare it to be cooked in the next few days, a task I could do in my sleep.