Chapter 4
CAMILE
Ledger and his two buddies have left me alone for the moment.
Other than a few sexual threats, and Ledger putting his filthy hand on my breast, he hasn’t touched me again, and for that, I’m grateful. What I’m not grateful for is that before he left, he shoved that disgusting rag back in my mouth.
I take a little hope from that action. If he doesn’t want me to shout and yell when he’s not here, does that mean there are people around who might hear me?
I’m doing my best not to give in to my tears and instead use this momentary reprieve to take stock of my surroundings.
The building I’m being held in appears to be some kind of outbuilding used for storage.
It’s large, the walls made of cinderblocks and the roof corrugated metal.
I’m in darkness, but there are a couple of windows positioned high in the walls, except they’ve got coverings on them, blocking out most of the light.
I wonder if they put the coverings up recently so no one can see in.
The small amount of light in here, allowing me some shadowy sight, comes from under the door.
I guess it must lead to a hallway, or even outside, so it allows in a little of what must be the morning light.
The only time it’s been open has been when Ledger and the two men have been coming or going, and their big bodies have blocked the view of what lies beyond.
I force myself to stop sniffling and focus instead.
It’s hard to hear over the pounding of the blood rushing through my ears.
I can’t even take deep breaths to try to slow my heart down because my nose is still snotty and there’s a goddamned rag in my mouth.
I try not to give too much thought to what might be on the piece of material, though it tastes like gun metal and dirt. I don’t want to start gagging.
Eventually, I manage to calm down enough to quiet the noise in my ears and listen. At first, the only thing I hear is my own misery and panic, but other sounds slowly take shape. They’re distant, but I’m sure that’s the rev of a bike engine.
Confusion ripples through me, increasing my fear.
Am I still on the compound?
No, that’s crazy. Ledger would never risk staying right under the Riders’ noses. He’d be killed if he was caught, and, as cocky as he is, I’m sure he wouldn’t risk it.
How the fuck did he find me? How did he know where I was? He had to have been given that information in order to send men to snatch me out of my bed in the middle of the night.
A thought hits me and makes me feel sick all over again.
Someone must have leaked the information to him.
I tell myself it doesn’t automatically mean it was someone from Jack’s MC.
It’s possible that info came from gossip around the college.
People will have noticed I’m not there, and tongues will be wagging.
Did they think to keep my location a secret?
I’d have thought that would have been common sense, but Vani was seriously pissed at me.
Could she have been venting and accidentally blurted where I was to the wrong person?
My eyes prickle with fresh tears. Would she have done that? I don’t want to think it of my friend, but the timings line up. And when people are so upset and angry that they lose sight of what is right and wrong, well, they can do crazy things.
An evil little voice whispers in my ear… what if she did it on purpose? What if this was the one way she could get you out of her dad’s life?
No. I refuse to believe such poison. Vani is a good person, despite what she said to me, and she’d never wish harm on anyone, and especially not a friend.
Yes, her reaction toward the idea of me and Jack was hurtful, but, considering the circumstances, it was completely expected and justified.
I think I’d have done the same, and I wasn’t even close to my father like Jack and Vani.
And she also probably felt like it betrayed her mother, who she only lost a year or two ago.
I have to get out of this chair.
Gritting my teeth, I pull at the bonds securing my hands behind me.
I can’t see them, but I suspect they’re cable ties, and the same ties bind my ankles to the legs of the chair.
If they’re plastic, does that mean they’ll stretch?
I have small hands and feet, and my feet are bare.
If I can get the plastic to stretch just a little, I might be able to slip out of them.
I focus on my hands, trying to pull them as far apart as possible.
The position—with them behind my back and around the chair, means the strain on my shoulders is intense.
The plastic of the ties bites into my skin, cutting deep.
It’ll leave a mark, perhaps even bleed, but that’s the least of my concerns.
I need to get the fuck out of here. If Ledger manages to get me out of the country, I’ll be lost for good.
I picture the rest of my life spent as his wife.
I’ll become a shell of a person, destroyed further by every passing day spent with a painted-on smile in public, only for my body to be used by him however he chooses in private.
Ledger said he knew I wouldn’t harm myself, and maybe he was right about that in the moment, but I picture years down the line, having suffered at his hands.
Just how long will my desire to live last?
Right now, I can’t think much beyond getting free of this god damned chair.
Even if I do manage to free myself, I don’t know what I’ll do after escaping or how risky it will be.
Have they bothered to lock the doors to this building?
I didn’t hear any lock being drawn into place or padlock clicking, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.
I was distracted when they were coming and going.
And even if they are unlocked, where will I find myself when I sneak out?
Will those two other men be guarding the door?
If so, I stand little chance of getting by them.
Perhaps there’s a whole army of men here, and I’ll escape this room to find myself in a worse situation.
Frustrated, I scream behind my gag and immediately regret it when it causes panic to rise again.
Focus, I tell myself. Stay calm and focus on trying to get out of these binds, at least. I strain my wrists again, groaning against the rag as pain spears up my arms and down my fingers. My instinct is to pull back, to stop the pain, but if I want to get free, I must push through it.
Come on, come on.
I try again, my teeth clenched around the filthy cloth, my eyes squeezed shut as I pull with everything I have. It’s not working. The position of my arms and shoulders mean I can’t gain enough movement.
Breathing heavily, I change tact and focus on my feet. They’re tied to the legs of the chair, so I keep my full weight on the chair, and tug my right foot as far away from the chair leg as possible. Just like with my wrists, the plastic bites.
I lose whatever small amount of energy I had and fall into a slump. Defeated. What’s even the point? If I manage to get one leg free, how will it help me? They’ll notice right away and just tie it back up.
Movement comes from outside, and I jolt upright, my heart lurching into my throat.
There’s a metallic grating sound, then the door swings open.
Bright sunlight pours in, and I squint against it.
I want to be able to see outside, to give me some idea of what I’m dealing with, but it’s too bright, and a second later, the space is filled with the silhouetted shapes of men.
One of them is carrying something. It’s a large, plastic tub, the kind someone might use to collect garden waste. What is he doing with that?
With them is Ledger.
Hatred fills me at the sight.
Ledger stalks up to me and yanks the rag from my mouth. A foul taste coats my tongue, and I wish I could lean to one side and spit, but my mouth is like the Sahara.
“Agua,” I gasp. “I need water.”
Ledger smirks. “Oh, you’ll get plenty of water soon.”
What the hell does he mean by that? I look around, fear eating into my sanity. God, it hurts to move my head. Pressure pounds behind the backs of my eyes. I don’t know if it’s the aftereffect of whatever they gave me to knock me unconscious when they took me, or if it’s from the stress.
“You’ve had time to think about my offer,” Ledger says. “Are you going to do the right thing?”
I want to scream at him. To spit and curse and fight. But instead, I do what I know he’ll hate. I go silent and refuse to meet his eye.
He kicks the leg of my chair, jolting it and sending more pain shooting through my skull.
“Answer me!”
I clamp my lips together and turn my face away.
“Fucking bitch. Well, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. You said you wanted water, right?”
What does he mean?
“Untie her hands,” he instructs the men. My heart lifts with a moment of hope until he says, “and retie them at her front.”
At least it’ll give my shoulders a break from being pulled into such an uncomfortable position, but then I see the reason for him wanting my position changed. He drags over the large flexi tub and places it between my feet, like he thinks I might need it to throw up into.
I’m electric with panic; it’s zinging through every nerve ending.
I want to scream and fight, but it won’t do any good, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction in seeing me like that.
The only sign of my fear is the trembling that works its way through my limbs, and the juddering of my chin and jaw.
What’s he going to do with me?
Ledger returns to the door and hauls something else inside. It’s a long garden hose, the kind on a reel, and he unwinds it as he walks, allowing it to splay out behind him. I swallow, hard, my mind trying to process what his plan might be. Whatever it is, it’s not going to be good for me.