32. Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Bexley
I t takes a lot of convincing to get Arch to leave when the night is done.
I stayed in the room for the rest of the fights, recovering and waiting for the pain to diminish as much as possible. He popped his head in occasionally, giving updates after I asked—well, insisted—that he wait outside.
There's something about being at your most vulnerable that makes you want to hide. I know he's already seen my vulnerable side many times recently, but having a babysitter right now is like rubbing salt in the wound.
Steele lost his match too.
Badly.
According to post-match feedback, my injuries look like a walk in the park compared to Steele's. At least I walked out of the cage—Steele had to be carried, barely conscious.
The fights have now finished and the voices from the main room are slowly getting quieter. I asked Arch to look after Steele, making sure he gets medical attention.
Since I drove here, I intend on waiting until everyone has left before I make my way out. It's not a pretty sight. Dried blood is stuck to my face while bruises are already flourishing on my skin. There's a particularly sore spot on my upper cheek that's going to be a pretty black and blue tomorrow.
Arch and Abby pop their heads in for one final check before taking off. Everyone is making their way to the beach, to drink away their sorrows. Willowbrook are using it tomorrow, so it's our best opportunity to let loose and lick our wounds—no pun intended.
We lost fair and square tonight, but it's still a bittersweet pill to swallow.
When the sounds outside fade away to nothing, I slowly force myself to stand, using the wall as stability. Everything hurts, and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm a bit concussed myself. Truthfully, I probably shouldn't be driving, but I'll take it easy.
Grabbing my keys to lock up, I head out of the room, happy to see the warehouse empty.
I need to cross the main floor to get to the side door, and despite only being a small distance, it feels like a fucking mile.
Reaching the other side finally, I'm just about to switch the lights off when footsteps draw my attention. My head pops up toward the Willowbrook rooms, heart racing as I expect to see Rylan—but it's not him.
"Duchess."
Hunter stands casually in the walkway, hands deep in his pockets with a shit-eating smirk on his face.
"What are you doing here?" I grumble, pausing.
He steps forward, scanning my body. "Rough night, I see. That must hurt."
I want nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face, but even I know I don't have the strength to fight him. I could get a second wind and all he would have to do is poke my arm or face and I'd topple over like a house of cards in a breeze.
"I'm not in the mood, Lannister," I say instead. "If you're hanging back, lock up."
Hunter cuts into my path as I step toward the side door, eyes dancing in amusement. "Before you go, Rylan would like a word."
Frowning, my eyes instinctively dart toward the rooms. "Why doesn't he just come out here then?"
"He's recovering from his fight."
My gaze flickers between Hunter and the rooms, desperate to see Rylan, but also not wanting to be ambushed by the three of them. But surely, Rylan wouldn't let that happen?
"Fine," I agree warily.
He steps aside, gesturing with his hand for me to walk past. It takes everything in my power to stay upright, acting as if every step isn't pure agony.
The first room is empty, and the second, so imagine my surprise when I reach the third one and find it equally vacant. Before I can ask where Rylan is, someone shoves me hard in the back.
I fall into the room, feet catching on the old carpet before landing stomach first on the ground. The cry of pain wheezes out as I brace my hands, ready to push myself up when Hunter's shoes appear in my peripheral vision.
There's a flash of something shiny and metallic, but before I can register what it is, I'm cuffed with them.
"What the fuck, Hunter?" I sneer, staring horrified at the metal handcuffs binding me to the leg of the abandoned desk.
Tugging them, I wince as they tighten around my wrist. Hunter squats down next to me, proudly exclaiming, "Not bad for a cheap pair. I guess you have that in common."
That second wind I was waiting on finally emerges as I use my entire body weight to yank on the chain. They don't budge, and neither does the desk I realize with horrifying disbelief. The metal legs are deadbolted into the ground through the murky green carpet. Without a key, I'm stuck.
"Very funny," I snap. "Unlock them."
Hunter reaches out, softly brushing a piece of fallen hair off my forehead. "I don't think so. It's about time you learned your place, Duchess."
"Don't touch me!"
He laughs as I jerk my head away, standing up. "Hopefully it doesn't get too cold for you."
I squirm frantically as he quickly grabs my cell and keys from my pocket, holding them out of reach when I try to snatch them back.
"You're pathetic," I shout, pulling the chain again. "This is low, even for an asshole like you."
Hunter shrugs. "Maybe you shouldn't have fucked with us—and certainly not with Rylan."
I freeze. He dumps my keys and cell in the corner of the room, out of reach.
"Give them back!"
"I don't think I will. I'm going to find out all your secrets soon, Duchess. When I do, you're going to regret the day you stepped foot in my academy."
This can't be happening. I know he hates me more than anything, but of all times, leaving me half naked, bound in an abandoned warehouse, the day before my mother's funeral… that's cruel, even for him.
"Don't do this," I murmur low, shaking my head. "Not today."
"No time like the present, Duchess. Maybe this will make you think long and hard about trying to tear us apart."
"I didn't do anything!" I argue. "Maybe you should be taking this up with Rylan."
Hunter smiles. It's cold and hostile. Maybe on the surface it can be mistaken for a gesture of warmth, but deep down, he's ruthless. There's nothing pleasant about his lips upturning like that. Behind his eyes, I see his hatred for me, pouring out in waves.
He wants to break me. To punish me for what I did to him in the detention classroom and to make an example of me for fucking his friend.
There's no going back after this. He's ensuring my compliance—not necessarily to bow down to them, but to stay away from Rylan. We both know that if Rylan has to choose, he's going to pick his friends, his legacy. This is a cold reminder that I'm just a notch on his bedpost.
"Don't worry," Hunter says, standing. "I'll be sure to lock the door behind me, so no one takes advantage of your vulnerable position ."
"How noble of you," I snap back sarcastically.
Grinning, he says nothing further as he vanishes from the room. I listen to his footsteps fade away, the lights turning off before the sound of the side door slams closed.
"Hunter!" I shout unsuccessfully. "Get back here, Lannister!"
Outside, an engine roars, unmistakable dirt and gravel kicking up underneath tires, and then there's silence.
He's not coming back…
No one is.
I hate to admit it, but when the faint whispers of birds chirping and soft morning glow slithers into the room, my face is red and puffy from crying.
There was a small period of time where I passed out—a result of the pain in my body and exhaustion—before I woke up again to continue this nightmare.
Bereft and devastated, I struggle to understand how everything happened. Today is meant to be about saying goodbye to Mom. Last night was hard. Losing doesn't happen to me often, and I'm humble enough to admit defeat, but I know in my heart I don't deserve this.
Unless someone finds me, the chances of me missing her goodbye are growing higher with each passing hour.
My bladder is screaming at me, made worse by the violent shivers from the morning chill as I lay against the coarse carpet in my sports bra and shorts.
It could be days until I'm found. Monday, someone would have to take notice that I'm missing from classes. I try my best not to panic. All it will do is make things worse. But in the back of my mind, I'm terrified. Injured and dehydrated, there's no telling what condition I'll be in if I'm left here alone until Monday. To make matters worse, my stomach rumbles with hunger, also reminding me that I may be without food for several days—if I survive that long.
If you asked me yesterday, I'd say that Hunter isn't that cruel—that he wouldn't leave me stranded that long. But now? I don't know what to believe.
You'd think that missing my mom's funeral would be cause for alarm. But I'm known for hiding from emotions. My friends would just assume I need space. Hell, at the moment, it's only Archie who knows. The chances of the alarm being raised are smaller again. He'll just believe I couldn't face saying goodbye, probably off somewhere drowning my sorrows with music.
This is my own fault for isolating myself. And now, Hunter Lannister has exploited my weakness. What used to be my strength is now my downfall, and I have no one to blame except myself.
Well, and Hunter. This is all his doing. But if I discovered someone was sleeping with the enemy, I'd probably react strongly too.
It's comforting to know one thing though. I'd never do this to someone. That's the difference between me and Hunter.
Still, the semi-comforting thought does nothing to improve the situation. I could be dead in two days.
Exhaustion creeps into my bones again, body curling up as hunger pains exacerbate the feelings of affliction. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since I ate anything—too sick with nerves to have lunch or a snack before the fight.
I don't have to fight long. The darkness pulls me under again, providing temporary relief from reality as I pass out on the ground, numbing the aches and pains that throb through my entire body.