16. The Loft
16
THE LOFT
RORY
T he loft is a surprise.
I expected another grimy basement or warehouse, but the space Aidan drags me through is, well, gorgeous. Open concept, with lots of natural light streaming in from the glass ceilings above. It’s huge. They must have the entire floor. The charcoal paint and industrial feel should make it feel cold and dark, but with all the windows and reclaimed wood, there’s an unexpected element of warmth.
It’s the type of apartment I would kill to live in. Too bad it’s my new gilded prison.
We enter the main living area and I balk at the sight of another man lounging on the dark leather sectional, scrolling on his phone. He sits up at the sight of us. Confusion turns to rage in a split second. I freeze under his fiery glare.
But Aidan’s having none of it. He pushes me forward again, a little rougher than is necessary. He doesn’t say a word to the man as we pass, but it feels as though they’re communicating in silence.
After a hard stare, the man on the couch shakes his head in disapproval before going back to scrolling on his phone. His shoulders tense.
Aidan directs me down a long hallway. We follow it all the way to the end until Aidan propels me forward into a bedroom.
A bedroom.
He stops us in the middle of the room, pulling a key out of his pocket and removes the handcuffs.
The skin on my wrist is red and raw from first the ropes and then the sliding metal of the cuffs. I hold super still while he works, trying to avoid any more friction against the already damaged skin.
Aidan notices, running his thumb gingerly along the raw edges before he drops my hands. I stiffen at the gesture, confused by the gentleness of his touch.
“What are you going to do with me?” My words come out far stronger than I feel.
“I don’t know yet.” He shrugs while his eyes scan the room.
I stare at him incredulously. “You don’t know yet?”
“No.”
I don’t know if that’s good news or bad news. “And you’re going to figure this out when?” I know this isn’t how I should talk to a made man. Should be more careful not to agitate the man who currently holds my life in his hands, but still I hold my ground. Not sorry.
Aidan’s eyes harden, and he takes a step closer, but I stay rooted in place. “Careful,” he warns. His sea glass eyes are sharp enough to cut me.
Aside from revealing my true identity, I doubt there is much more I can do that will make this situation better or worse. My fate is my fate at this point. Not willing to back down, I close what little gap still exists between us, raising my chin and straightening my spine. “If you could figure out whether I’m to live or die by lunch, that would be fantastic.”
I move to storm past him further into the room, but he blocks my pass, instead, stepping closer and forcing me to yield a step backward.
“You better think long and hard on why I should keep you alive, ice princess . You say you know nothing about the Bratva, but you and I both know that’s not true.” His eyes narrow.“I have little need for a Russian stripper, unless you want to make things a little more interesting ?” He takes a long and pointed look down my body until his eyes finally return to my face.
Feeling the blood rush from my face, I lock my glare on him, clamping my mouth shut instead of snapping back
Satisfied, he turns, heading for the hall, but not before calling back over his shoulder, “Get some sleep, Angel. You’re going to need it.” And then he’s gone. The lock clicked into place, trapping me inside.
The large room suddenly feels stifling and too small. I try to stave off the oncoming panic attack by assessing my surroundings.
I need a weapon. Or a way out. But definitely a weapon, for sure.
I eye the bed warily. It’s made up in white everything. White sheets, white duvet, fluffy white pillows. It looks clean, plush and comfortable… A shiver shakes my whole body and I back further away from it. There isn’t much in the room. It’s sparsely decorated. With only a simple bed, nightstand, and a dresser.A quick perusal through all the drawers turns up nothing. Empty. They’re all empty. All of them.
The hall door is thick and heavy. There’s no way I can bust it down, and even if I did, I’d have to get past Aidan, Liam and probably the other guy I saw earlier on the couch.
The entire far wall consists entirely of industrial style windows reaching up to the roof. I could break the glass… Pressing my palms to it, I peer down, praying it’s not twenty stories up.I’m both surprised and disappointed when I look down into a closed courtyard garden only about seven feet down. My heart sinks when I realize it’s fully enclosed.
From my perch, I can see a door leading out to the courtyard, but from this angle, there’s no telling where it goes.
That’s one option. We’ll call it plan E or F, maybe.
I turn my attention to the two other doors in the room besides the one I know leads out to the hall.
The first door reveals only a modest bathroom staring back at me. All white, like the bed. I can’t say I’m not relieved to see the toilet and sink. I quickly take care of some needs and wash my hands and face that are streaked with blood and dirt.
Staring at my reflection, I hardly recognize myself. A long jagged cut mars my left cheek, from when the glass wall shattered back at Elements. And a dark bruise blossoms under my right jaw, but I can’t remember how I got it. Several shallow cuts and scrapes line my fingers and forearms. My wrists are a mess.Raw and angry and burning. I run some cold water over them and it helps, but still I wish I had some cream or something to wrap them in.
I finger comb my hair, using some water from the sink to dampen it down. Once again, I come up empty after tearing through the bathroom vanity.There’s not even a toothbrush that I could try to whittle down to one of those shivs like they make in prison.
There’s one more door, next to the bathroom. This one I open with more confidence. As I suspected, it’s a closet. Walk-in with no walk-out. Bare except for a large black bag in the middle of the floor.
A small flame of hope sparks when I recognize what it is…
A hockey bag.