50. Ember
CHAPTER FIFTY
EMBER
I thought I knew grief.
Losing Travis hurt so badly, I didn’t think anything could ever compare.
But this is worse.
It hurts to breathe. To think. To open my eyes.
It all hurts so much, and I just want it all to go away. How am I supposed to live without him?
At first, guilt eats away at me.
Why does it hurt more to lose the man who killed my brother than it did to lose Travis, the only person who ever loved me?
But then it hits me.
Travis was my brother. He was family. I never had a choice in loving him.
But I did with Orion. I had a choice to trust him. I had a choice to fall in love. And I had a choice to forgive him for his sins.
And despite myself, I chose to do all those things.
I have no way of knowing how much time has passed since Lucas came back to take the phone from me, but he overestimates my want to escape.
The only thing the outside world offers is more pain and the reality of losing the man I gave my heart to, even when I shouldn’t have.
When the door swings open again, I don’t bother looking up. What’s the point?
It’s just Lucas coming in to taunt me some more, or someone delivering food I have no intention of eating.
A hunger strike had briefly crossed my mind before, but I decided I needed to keep my strength up. Now that I don’t care about escaping, eating seems unnecessary, and I can’t see myself being able to keep anything down as the explosion plays on a loop behind my eyelids.
“Get up,” Cain barks, but I don’t move. I remain perfectly still on the concrete in the middle of the room, my blanket long forgotten.
A sharp pain explodes in my ribs, but even a hard kick isn’t enough to drag my body back to the land of the living.
I’m existing in the abyss of grief right now, and I doubt there’s much that could drag me out right now.
Fingers thread into the hair on the top of my head, and I’m dragged to my feet, red hot agony searing through my scalp, but still, I don’t really notice it.
It’s nothing compared to what’s raging inside my chest, so it seems inconsequential.
Rough fingers wrap around my chin, and I’m forced to look up into his eyes, hatred staring back at me. “It’s time for you to shower.”
“Why?”
“You have an appointment.”
I frown. “With a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You ask too many questions.” He shoves me toward the door.
I trip on the sheet that’s wrapped around me, barely managing to catch myself before I face-plant on the floor.
That would really be the icing on this cake.
If I were lucky, I’d give myself a concussion.
Those can be deadly if they’re not treated, right?
I’m marched down the hallway, hungry eyes taking in my state of undress as I clutch the sheet to me tighter.
There was a part of me that felt secure in the knowledge that Orion would stop at nothing to find me, but no matter how badly he wanted to keep me safe, death is the one thing that will stop him from saving me.
Cain leads me past the bathroom I’ve used the last couple of days, and a part of me is relieved by that. The shower looked disgusting, and I would have caught something for sure.
Instead, he shoves me into a bedroom and points to a door on the other side.
“You have five minutes before I come in and do it for you, and I promise you won’t like that,” he grunts, the intention in his words making dread skitter across my skin.
He nods to a pile of clothes on the bedside table. “Put those on.”
He disappears before I can ask any follow-up question, which is probably a good thing considering how irritated he was by my last set.
I nibble at my bottom lip as I look around.
The double bed in the center of the room has been slept in recently, the sheet rumpled and the blankets askew. There’s a bedside table with nothing but a lamp and the pile of clothes Cain pointed out, but not much of anything else.
Nothing I can use as a weapon, which I guess isn’t a surprise.
Lucas knows better than most how resourceful I am, and he would have been careful not to leave anything I could use against them.
I sigh and cross to the bathroom, relieved when it’s relatively clean and smells faintly of bleach. At least I won’t live the rest of my life with a fungal infection.
That’s something, I guess.
I drop the sheet and have the quickest shower of my life.
My body longs to stay beneath the warm spray, especially given how consistently cold I’ve been, but I don’t want Cain making good on his promise.
I shut the water off, dry myself, and quickly dress in the yoga pants and oversized T-shirt, trying to ignore the lack of bra or panties in the pile.
Once I’m finished, and Cain hasn’t returned, I move back into the bathroom and look through the cupboard for something, anything, I might be able to use in an emergency, careful not to knock over the bottles and make a noise.
If they catch me snooping, I’m fucked.
I’m about to give up when my fingers brush over a piece of tape beneath the shelf, my stomach rolling with something that feels oddly like hope.
The cool metal nicks my finger, and I gasp, tugging it back to see a drop of red pooling on the pad.
A razor blade.
My stomach bottoms out as I untape it and shove it into the small pocket sewn into the waistband of the leggings.
Footsteps in the hallway drag my attention away, and I quickly move from the bathroom, perching on the edge of the bed just in time for the door to swing open.
Cain glares at me, clearly thinking I was going to fail, and he would get to make good on his promise.
Even as his eyes move over my clothing, I wonder if he’s going to do it, anyway.
I doubt Lucas would care.
But instead, he nods his head to the side. “Hurry up.”
I swallow heavily as I follow after him, the sharp metal of the blade burning into my hip with every step I take.
One way or another, I’m not marrying Lucas.
Now I just have to wait and see which escape plan I enact.