Chapter 13 Thea #2
“Let’s make this short. I can tell she’s going to be fun.
Well … I’m sure you know.” He beckons Slade with him, and they both stride toward the kitchen.
Or at least, that’s what I assume. I didn’t get to see much as I was manhandled from the SUV, through the garage full of expensive sports cars, and down the hallway.
For a moment, I sit staring after them.
Bishop laughs, glasses clink, and I’m still on my knees like a trained dog. The bindings scratch as I move, tugging at my wrists, and it hits me—I’m just sitting here. Waiting. Not doing anything.
I can’t do that anymore. I can’t sit and expect Slade to help me.
Desperate, I pull against the restraints, testing the length of the chain. The cruel metal digs into my skin, but I keep working it, flexing my wrists and fingers, fumbling over the links until they brush the hearth. I yank and tug, hoping for some give.
My fingertips graze over something sharp—a splintered piece of glass, maybe from a shattered tumbler? I’m not sure I want to imagine what may have happened. Was it an accident, or was this part of his play with the last girl?
I curl my fingers around it and drag it closer, hiding it beneath my palm.
A stupid wave of hope rattles in my chest. The logical part of my mind whispers it’s pointless.
The piece is too small to cause real damage, and the chains bolt to the stone.
But my heart hopes—maybe one’s cracked? It could be compromised in some way, and what an idiot I’d be if I didn’t try.
I turn the glass shard over in my hand. If I can’t break free, maybe I can fight back, or … I pause on the morbid thought, picturing the blood slipping from my wrists. No. I couldn’t, wouldn’t.
My shoulders burn as I pull, realizing what I’d hoped for isn’t going to happen.
A few more clanks clatter from somewhere beyond, and I grit my teeth to pull. Hard. A hiss slips through my teeth. It hurts, but this pain is nothing compared to what I know will happen later.
Then—sharp footsteps.
Close, then closer. They’re coming back.
My heart lurches, and I shove a breath from my lungs before hiding the glass beneath my thigh. I let go of the chain like it’s scalded me. I scramble to fold myself back into place, knees bent, head low.
I still, glancing up through my downcast lashes, then lift my head a bit more when all I see is Slade.
He glides toward me, hurried yet collected.
He holds my eyes, and when I scan him, there’s no drink in his hand.
He crosses the room in a few steps and kneels in front of me.
A key glints in his fingers, but that’s not what undoes me.
It’s the look on his face—steady fury swimming in his locked expression.
For a beat, he stares at the spot where the glint of glass peeks out, only half hidden.
Not a single sound is generated between us as his hand brushes mine and he finds the lock. I flinch, not because I’m scared of him, but because it’s the first gentle touch I’ve felt in what feels like forever.
His fingertips are warm. Smooth and uncalloused. The contrast makes my stomach twist. How can something soft exist in a world like this?
Metal pops open on my left wrist and is followed by the release of my other one. Then he moves to my ankles.
I’m …
I’m unchained.
I blink down at my raw skin, like the weight should still be there. He doesn’t give me time to spiral, though. His movements turn faster as he grips my hand, tight, the type that prompts me to move now. He hauls me up, and the glass clangs to the floor.
Stumbling to my feet, I buckle under the foreign feeling in my legs, but he keeps me upright, propelling me out of the living room. I stay silent, not asking the questions I want to, like: Where are we going? What’s happening?
We move past an open threshold and pass the kitchen, and I spot the legs sprawled out on the ground like some sort of fallen statue. I don’t get a glimpse of his chest or head as I’m pulled down the hallway toward the front doors.
Slade must’ve brought more GHB, dumped it into his glass. Did he think I wasn’t capable? Or did he somehow see I’d given mine away? He probably bid on Tonya, knowing she didn’t have any yet.
My heart pounds as we reach the massive arched double entrance, and I squeeze his hand tighter. His fingers twitch in mine, and an odd sensation flutters through me as there’s a faint squeeze back.
He doesn’t let go.
A guard appears at the base of the entry, confusion flashing across his face when he sees me in Slade’s grip. His hand lifts like he might block our path.
Slade snaps his chin in a frantic gesture toward the house, and whatever the guard sees make his expression drain. He curses under his breath and pivots, bolting inside instead of stopping us.
We both sail down the steps and into another black SUV, the driver already taking off as Slade closes the door shut. The car squeals around the thick stone drive and flies through the iron gate.
Breathing deeply, I spin around, watching the mansion float away behind us. Until the tall, narrow windows in the stone facade disappear.
I shrink, slouching into the warm, stitched leather. Slade sits beside me, and when I turn to him, his hands grip the edge of the seat, as if he’s holding back. A silent war clashes within him, and for some reason I want to know what he wants to unleash.
What now? I will him to speak to me, to answer my unspoken questions, but he avoids my eyes.
Don’t sit here. Say something.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
His gaze moves to mine, rage in his eyes. Is he mad? Irritated, I cross my arms over my chest, and his head dips before bouncing back up.
“I didn’t ask you to help me.” I cast a sideways look toward the driver, who’s seemingly uninterested in our conversation in the back seat. “I promise I didn’t say anything about … anything.”
He just stares at me, and heat flares in my cheeks. This is pointless—trying to talk to him when he won’t speak back. I know he can. I think. Unless something happened in the last four years, Bishop said he’d heard him speak.
I shake my head and turn to look out the window.
Night slips by in fragments between the streetlights and blurred buildings.
The car navigates the Chicago traffic as we push farther out.
Since I’m allowed to look around me, I assume the car isn’t taking me back to EV.
So where will he put me? It can’t be allowed to return a girl someone else bid on, right?
The skyline softens and shadows grow, swallowing the SUV as we wind through roads I recognize. The lake house. I almost hope he’s taking me there. It’s safer, calming, and I could use another break.
I wince at that. I’ve been so lucky considering the other girls’ fates.
“You’re going to be okay,” I mumble to myself. My breath fogs the window as I press my forehead to the glass.
You’re going to be okay.