9. Chapter 9
TIERNEY
The room was dark when I awoke; the curtains cinched tightly, not permitting even the thinnest sliver of moonlight.
To my surprise, my head felt clearer than it had the last time I had woken. I hadn’t believed Rossdale when he said the drugs were only temporary. Then again, who could blame me?
Rolling my head to the side, a stray hair fell across my face. I lifted my hand to swipe it away, only then registering the familiar weight of the knife in my hand. The bands of anxiety that had constricted my heart since the moment Rossdale found me in that grove loosened, my breath coming easier.
Realizing my arms were free, I wiggled my toes, nearly jumping off the bed when my entire foot moved with little effort.
“Son of a bitch. He wasn’t lying.” I murmured, a slow smile breaking across my face.
My eyes dropped to the Karambit in my hand.
Every brush of my finger over the smooth steel cleared away a layer of fog from my mind. Until, after maybe a dozen passes or so, a decision had been made; I needed to leave.
Though my mind was clear, my body was sore from head to toe, like someone tossed me through a wood chipper and then doused me in salt water. Even so, I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t drug me again.
I couldn’t afford to be na?ve, not when it came to him. He hadn’t killed me yet. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans for me. Ahren Rossdale certainly hadn’t made a name for himself by saving lives and if even half the rumors were true, I wouldn’t be the first rival he took out.
In hindsight, maybe taunting him with roses hadn’t been my smartest idea.
Pulling back the blanket, my breath caught in my throat. Wrong. Everything was wrong. “That’s not mine,” I breathed.
Clutching the blanket back to my chest, my fingers dug in like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. My lungs burned as I forced air in and out, working to slow my racing heart.
I snapped my eyes shut and allowed my awareness to slip over every inch of my skin, bile rising in my throat at the mere thought of what I might find there.
My nipples brushed against the soft fabric of the shirt I was wearing, not my shirt, most likely his. Warm plush caressed my obviously bare legs, disconcerting despite feeling like I was covered by dozens of teddy bears.
A strangled sob burst from my throat as I shifted, my thighs pressing together—bare skin against bare skin. My stomach dropped. My skin crawled, the weight of the unknown pressing against it like unseen hands .
I gripped the blanket tighter, as if I could shrink myself into the fabric, as if I could take back whatever had been taken from me. But my body felt foreign, invaded by something I couldn’t name. My mind screamed at me to remember—anything—but the silence was louder than the rushing in my ears.
I searched my mind for the last thing I remembered, clawing through the haze like a drowning woman reaching for the surface. Nothing. Just empty space where my memories should be.
My fists clenched, tightening around the knife I still held, its presence no longer comforting. Instead, it mocked me, proving my safety was only an illusion. The room blurred, tilting like a dream I wasn’t a part of.
“Breathe, Tierney. Fucking. Breathe.” I murmured, hoping to force myself into work mode.
“Move fast. Think slow. Move fast. Think slow.” I repeated the mantra that had gotten my ass through some tough situations.
I peeled back the blanket, goosebumps spreading across my heated skin as it met the frigid air. “Dammit!” I swore, “is this a bedroom or a refrigerator?”
I quickly gained my feet, releasing a captive breath when my muscles only shook briefly before stiffening like good soldiers falling into place, ready to carry my weight.
My fingers closed around the handles of my knives, groaning as I remembered I didn’t have anywhere to sheath them in this—outfit. If it could even be called that. I pinched my phone between my finger and thumb, struggling to get a comfortable grip.
I blew out a quick breath that did little to settle me and scanned the room; I needed a way out. Not the door, obviously. I couldn’t risk running into Rossdale or his two mutts or even that Connor person he spoke of .
Heavy dark curtains covered most of the wall behind me and I stepped closer, wondering what secrets they hid.
A giddy laugh bubbled up through my throat as I pulled back the curtain; fate was truly on my side.
There were no sensors or alarms that I could see, so I eased the glass door open and stepped outside.
The night air was cold and unforgiving and even the barest whisper of a breeze sliced through me like an icy scythe, cleaner and deeper than any blade I could wield.
I turned back to the empty room, my eyes bouncing from one surface to the next before finally landing on a black leather duster draped over the wooden chair next to the bed.
The supple leather caressed my skin as I slid my arms into the sleeves, wrapping myself in warmth for the first time since I left the downy blankets and I stifled a groan.
I slid my knives into the inner pockets, slotting my phone into the outer one, briefly wondering how pissed he would be finding he lost not only his prisoner, but his jacket as well.
I shrugged off the errant thought and stepped out into the night. The sharp pain limited my breaths to shallow pants, but I welcomed it, relishing my first breaths of free air in God only knew how long.
My feet hurried as quickly as my injuries would allow, tracing the familiar pathways across the well-manicured lawn and through the towering pines that bordered the western edge of Rossdale’s property, avoiding his mutts and his cameras along the way.
Despite the pain of obviously broken ribs, I found myself breathing easier the farther I got from him, each step taking me closer to the relative safety of home.