Chapter 14
Rahat
A groan escaped my mouth as I tried to move. All I felt was pain. A deep, concentrated throb above my left eye that pulsed as if it had its own heartbeat. I froze and let it wash over me, hoping my stillness would make it subside. It didn't.
But I remembered Adam's breath against my ear, and the crack of my head against the concrete floor.
Rex.
I wondered if he was awake and knew how much I'd betrayed him.
I pictured him as I'd last seen him, asleep in Carina's bed with that beautiful smile on his face, the covers resting around his hips, and the moonlight streaming through the window, catching the ink of his chest. I wondered if I'd ever see him again.
I opened my eyes slowly. Though the left one felt swollen and remained mostly closed.
The ceiling above me was white and a single bulb behind a frosted glass light shade lit the room, bright enough to leave no shadows.
The fresh scent of paint filled the air, along with the chemical scent of detergent.
Wherever I was, it must have been freshly cleaned and decorated.
I turned my head. The throb sent a searing pain through my head.
I froze again, waiting for it to ease back to manageable levels.
I was fully clothed on a low single bed with a high headboard, my wrists and ankles both free, although my shoes had been taken.
The room I was in was small but not cramped.
There were no windows, but there were two chairs around a table with a covered tray sat on top.
The walls of the room were bare apart from a small mounted camera in the far corner with a red light burning steadily. No doubt, Adam knew I was awake.
Taking my time while trying to keep my head movements as steady as possible, I pushed myself upright and sat on the edge of the bed. My head swam and I tested the feel of my swollen eye and the lump of forehead. Both were tender to the touch.
How many times had he slammed my head into the ground? Twice that I remembered clearly. But why? And what now?
The only reason I was still alive had to be that Adam wanted something from me. Whatever that was, it meant, right now, I was more valuable to him alive than dead, and that was the only card I held.
"You're awake."
The voice came from behind the headboard. The only place in the room, I hadn't thought to look. The headboard had given me the false illusion of safety when there was none. Adam had sat there for God knows how long, watching and waiting for me to wake.
He walked around the bed and stood at the foot of it. His shirt sleeves were rolled at the elbows and his jacket was gone. He looked entirely at ease. I guess he was.
"How long was I out?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"A couple of hours. Honestly, I expected you to be out for longer." He tilted his head a little and studied me. "I didn’t realise you liked to dance.”
My stomach rolled, hating that he might have seen me strip for Rex, but I kept my hands in my lap and held his gaze.
I had no idea what his game was, but I was certain of one thing.
He'd rehearsed this. His posture, his tone.
Hell, I bet he even practised those first obvious words in his head a few times. Adam liked control.
"You put me on a bed," I said.
"You were unconscious."
"You caused that."
He pressed his lips together and for a second, I thought his control might snap. "No," he said after a moment. "That didn’t need to happen. You made it necessary."
I tried not to scoff at that. Six years ago, I would have listened.
I fucking did. I blamed myself. Wrong place, wrong time, stupid actions, underestimating someone I shouldn't have.
Yeah. I'd done all of those things. And in his head, Adam believed the concrete floor was a consequence I'd brought on myself.
But he was fucking delusional. No. He's a fucking narcissist. I just hadn't seen it before.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Somewhere private."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he agreed and flashed me a smile. "It's not."
He crossed to the table and lifted the cloth from the tray, revealing a glass of water and a plate of toast. He picked up the glass and walked towards me. I tried not to shrink back.
"You should drink," he said, holding out the glass for me to take. "Your head will feel better, and we’re leaving soon."
I hesitated for a second, staring at the glass.
"It's water, Rahat. If I wanted to drug you, I wouldn't be subtle about it." He tilted his head and smiled again. "You're already mine."
I bristled at his words, but took the glass and drank half. My throat was raw and the water was a relief. I hated that I felt that. That he caused me a slight comfort, even though he was responsible for my discomfort in the first place. Adam watched as if reading my thoughts.
"I've been thinking about the night we last spoke all those years ago," he said. I clasped the glass in my hands. "You lied to me when you said it was saved."
I had. I guess that was one small act of rebellion.
He'd moved to the window and was making a show of studying his nails.
I'd deleted everything and told him it had been saved.
I'd almost forgotten after what came next.
"Oops," I said and shook my head. "Six years and you want me to recreate a code I finished as a teenage girl.
Are you really that incompetent that you couldn't recreate it yourself? "
He slammed his hands down on the table, before standing straight and composing himself again. "You see," he said softly. "That's still what you're failing to understand. That code was mine. It belonged to me. Just as you belong to me."
I lifted the glass and finished the rest of my water. Adam was a man baby. I'd stolen one of his toys, and this was the culmination of a six-year temper tantrum. If he were even remotely stable, I'd find this pathetic. Instead, I realised how dangerous he truly was.
“We have plenty of time,” he crossed the room and lifted the plate of toast, “for me to correct that.”