Chapter Fifteen
Isaac
Ipush the swing softly, watching the blue tendrils of hair dance in the wind.
Her lips curl into a smile that makes my hand grow sweaty.
“So…” she whispers, biting her lip nervously before letting her head fall back, the blue ends meeting the green grass.
I like that she’s experimenting with her hair.
Makes her look different, and I love that she doesn’t try to fit in.
“So?” I ask eagerly, hoping this time it’s the words I’m desperate to hear.
I don’t know when exactly our friendship shifted into something more.
I know that I like to see her smile. I like the way the red in her cheeks goes perfectly with the contrast on her golden skin.
More importantly, I like that I’m the reason she gets so nervous.
I used to tell myself that it’s all in my head, but the more time I spend watching her when she’s not noticing, I’ve confirmed it’s not.
I swallow hard. When she comes to a stop, her tiny hands are gripping the ropes of the swing tightly. “Do you like anyone?”
Butterflies take off in my stomach, making a bundle of nerves.
I grab a small flat rock and toss it towards the creek.
“I do.” The words leave my lips before I can stop them, as my eyes remain on the rock that skips over the water before finding its watery rest. The world grows warmer, the colors become more vibrant, and I swear I can hear her heart… and it’s calling out to me.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my dreams, and my eyes slowly open.
The small sliver of light from the windows makes my eyes sting from the brightness.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but the little bit of sunshine that breaks through the darkness of the room tells me it’s morning.
My mouth feels painfully dry, my lips cracked and chapped from the humidity and lack of fluid.
It takes me exactly a second after opening my eyes to panic when I don’t hear Ronnie.
Only for my gaze to fall on her sleeping form.
A small wave of relief washes over me when I see the steady rise of her chest. Slowly, I sit up, rolling my neck and shoulders before stretching out my limbs, hating the sight of the chains that bind her.
I briefly look down at my own matching pair.
Something twisted in my gut at the sight.
I need to get us the fuck out of here. There’s a nagging pulsating throb on my leg, a reminder that I’ve been shot.
I try to ignore the pain as I just watch her.
A clash of emotions warred inside me, making my mind race with thoughts of violence.
The burning intensifies, ripping my attention away from Ronnie.
The white bandage seems to be leaking. My guess is that it’s been stitched up, given the itchiness within it.
I should look over it, but I don’t disturb the dressing, not in a place like this.
Which looks like a basement.
The air is stale and damp with hints of mildew.
The only evidence of life is a lone stream of light that filters into the room.
The light grows harsher, shadows stretching across Veronica’s face, highlighting the prominent curve of her jawline and nose.
My eyes drift towards her body, taking a close inspection, making sure she wasn’t hurt.
The fact that she’s wearing the same clothes tells me at least no one attempted to remove them.
At least last night, no one touched her, and that makes me content for now.
I begin to examine the room more closely, hoping to find a means of escape.
It isn’t much—just bare concrete walls and a single barred window high up on the wall.
Our chains are attached to metal rings embedded in the floor and walls.
I tug at it, hoping for some give, but it holds firm.
It seems like our captors clearly aren’t amateurs at this, which sucks for us.
The only thing they don’t know is that I will burn down the world for the girl across the room, and I don’t mean that just metaphorically.
Just then, Veronica stirs. Her eyes flutter open, a bewildering shade of gray.
“Morning,” she croaks, her voice echoing in the hollow room as she looks down at her shackles with a grimace, then up at me.
The corners of her lips twitch in a brave attempt at a smile.
“Quite the wake-up call. Not quite the spa retreat I was hoping for.” Her sarcasm hangs in the air as she tries to laugh but winces in pain instead.
Her eyes meet mine, asking a silent question that I voice out loud to her.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just a bit sore,” she responds, attempting to shift her position on the hard, cold floor.
“Feels like I strained my shoulder. More shaken than anything else.” Her gaze then falls upon the bandages wrapped around my leg.
“You look worse off, though,” she notes, nodding towards my side. “How’s your leg?”
Leaning back against the wall, she lets out a sigh that seems to drain all the energy from her. She’s clearly trying to keep up a brave face, but I can see the fear in her eyes. I shrug, grimacing with the effort.
“I guess I look worse than I feel,” I lie, trying to ease her worries.
Truth be told, each flicker of movement sends lightning bolts of pain through the wound, but I keep that to myself.
I can’t have her thinking I can’t protect her, because I will.
I will die for her. Just as much as I live for her.
Veronica’s gaze scans our surroundings, her eyes squinting in the dim light.
Sizing up the situation, just as I did moments earlier.
Her analytical mind is at work, a trait I always admired about her.
My girl is a smart cookie. Her eyes drift towards the barred window that is too high to reach.
“Seems like they’ve done this before,” she muses, her eyes still on the window.
Her mind came to the same conclusion I did.
For the moment, we are thoroughly fucked, and not in the good kind of way.
My eyebrows knit together, leaning my head into the brick wall before asking questions to gauge her thoughts. “Why do you say that?”
She bites her lower lip. “The fact that we are here, and I don’t know… the conversation we had last night.”
I raise my eyebrow, lifting my head to meet her gaze. “You spoke to them?”
She nods. “I did, they want a baby. That much you know. The second is we’re tools to get that. I don’t like this, Iz,” she whispers as she brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
“I’m with you on that,” I reply as I watch her.
Her gaze doesn’t waver from the window, as if she is hoping for some kind of divine intervention.
A savior to come flying through those bars.
But this isn’t one of our thrilling adventures, and no heroes are coming for us.
But I got us, baby, we will get through this together.
All you have to do is stay with me, here.
Veronica clears her throat. “At least you’re here.”
Atta girl.
“Yeah,” I respond, attempting to bring a bit of levity. “Always wanted to be kidnapped and chained in a basement. Scratch that off my bucket list.” She gives me a soft smile. Man, how I love to see her smile. Even now, in this situation, it’s like a balm in an aching wound.
“Our family will look for us. Max and Alexa will, too,” she says.
My gaze focuses on her, a single nod following my words. “Yes, they will.” I hope my voice sounds more confident than I feel. “We just have to hold on till then. We can do that, right?”
“Right…” Veronica nods and begins to scan the area. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I motion to the bucket next to her. There’s one on each side, which I assume is one for her and one for me. “Gotta use the bucket, Ronnie.”
She groans. “No way.”
I chuckle weakly, taking some small pleasure in my ability to make Veronica uncomfortable. “Welcome to the glamorous side of being held captive,” I tell her, wincing as the laughter tugs at my injury. She shoots me a withering glance.
“I swear, Isaac,” she grumbles, grimacing at the bucket in disgust. “When we get out of here, I'm booking the most luxurious spa day imaginable.”
“I’ll join you,” I tease, attempting to mask my growing concern.
These people are smart. The basement is well-sealed, and there is a lack of sound.
Which means this area is most likely somewhere secluded.
If we want out, we will have to outsmart them because right now, there’s no obvious way out, and our subsequent rescue seems increasingly unlikely.
But keeping her hopes up is all I can do for now.
“We need to get out of here,” she murmurs after a long silence.
“Any ideas?”
“I hate to admit it,” she starts, biting her lip in frustration. “But I got nothing.. Our situation is grave..”
I nod, sharing her sentiment. Every moment spent here makes my skin crawl.
I’m more worried for her than myself, if I’m being honest. I can’t get pregnant, so more than likely, she will be the target—a chance I’m not willingly going to stay idle for.
The sound of approaching footsteps puts me on high alert.
Making me shift in my spot, ignoring my bladder that screams for release.
Veronica’s eyes focus on the door that opens.
Light spills into the room, followed by the couple.
Who walks in, both carrying trays of food.
A boiled egg, a banana, and a cup of water.
A nice and nutritious breakfast for their baby-making machines.
However, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m hungry.
So, I'll eat it, and I can't have myself wasting away if I want to get us out of here.