Chapter 4
Emersyn
Warm.
I feel warm. Not hot. Not cold. Just…warm. And for a moment—a very, very short one—I forget what happened to me. However, my throbbing hand is enough to bring the memories crashing down. My pulse picks up as my eyes flutter open, halfway expecting myself to be chained in a basement.
But I’m not.
My fingers brush the leather material beneath me, and I adjust my eyes to the living room, alight by the glow of a fireplace. It’s… cozy . The flames cast an orange glow across a quaint sitting area, and while it’s not Hallmark level of comfort, it’s not roughing it, either. Off the living room, there’s a kitchen, but I can’t make out much. The wind howls outside, and as my eyes track back, a chill runs down my spine.
Somehow, in all my waking up, I missed the dark figure sitting in the armchair across from me. My heart jumps to my throat as I take in the shadow of a man, his face partially illuminated by the fireplace. I can make out his strong set jaw, the slight dimple in his chin, and his dark, hooded eyes.
He’s terrifying.
I rip my gaze from the shadow man to my hand, properly bandaged. That’s when I notice my jeans have been replaced with sweatpants—that were in my luggage. My mouth runs dry at the realization that he at a minimum changed my pants. I press my hand against my forehead, just realizing I have a headache.
“It’ll fade,” the man grunts at me.
I don’t say anything immediately, working my fingertips to the sore spot on the back of my head. There’s a knot and while it’s still painful to the touch, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse injuries, I guess. I press my hands back down against the couch, and slowly, rise to a sitting position, all while eyeing the man a few feet from me. His knuckles are white as he curls them into the leather. The motion causes lightheadedness as my blood pressure takes a drop.
“How long have I been out?” I ask, my voice cracking with every syllable.
It seems to grate his nerves as what little of his jaw I can see twitches. “Hours.”
I narrow my gaze. “How many?”
“Enough for your head to feel better.”
My mind can’t wrap itself around his cryptic reply, and I don’t even try to understand. I take a deep breath, expecting myself to feel panic, fear—something, but instead, I don’t really feel anything at all. Other than confused.
Really freaking confused.
“I should probably call my boyfriend.” I pause, my voice quiet. “Well, ex, I think,” I add under my breath, the realization causing my chest to ache. I look up at him when he’s still silent. “Can I use your phone?”
He’s unmoving. “No.”
“You shot mine,” I exasperate, the volume of my voice scorching the quiet crackle of the fireplace. “He could be out in that. ” I gesture to the window. “He’s probably worried.”
The man’s cold expression doesn’t budge. “Okay.”
My shoulders slump. “I need to let him know I’m okay. He’ll probably call the cops, and?—”
He shrugs. “They won’t find you.”
I blink a few times to clear the moisture brimming my eyes. “I don’t understand. He’s going to come looking for me.”
“He’d be an idiot to try that in this storm. If there was a search, they’ve called it off by now.” His voice is so monotone, it’s creepy. “They’ll wait until it passes.”
“You don’t know that,” I say stupidly.
“Okay.”
My heart hammers against my ribcage. Who are you? I want to shout at him, but his aura is intimidating—and almost as frightening as the charged silence in the room. My palms sweat and the warmth in here is now suffocating. I eye the door to my left.
“You’ll succumb to the elements within an hour.”
“You don’t know that.” I sound like a complete idiot as I repeat myself, and for the moment, I justify it with the hit on the back of my head. The man doesn’t react to anything, continuing to sit there in the chair and assumingly stare at me. I shift uncomfortably.
“You should hydrate.” He nods to the side table.
I follow his gaze to the bottle of water sitting there. It’s open. “Can I have one that’s still sealed?”
“You think I’m roofying you?”
I swallow hard. Jeez, this man makes me nervous. “I don’t know you.”
“I don’t know you, either. I think it’s fair to assume you’re the one who trespassed onto my property. Therefore, you are more likely to be a threat.”
I narrow my eyes. “You tried to shoot?—”
“Just drink the fucking water,” he barks at me.
I nod out of fear, trying to reason with myself. Maybe he’s just an introvert and so he’s cranky I’m here. I mean, anyone who lives in a cabin alone with their dog and shoots phones out of people’s hands has to be recluse. Or insane. But maybe he’s paranoid? Doom’s day prepper. I cast my gaze over him again.
Maybe.
“You’re a good shot,” I think aloud, the mental image of my shattered phone coming back to mind. He could’ve easily misjudged with the wind and low visibility—and killed me. Or maybe that’s what he was trying to do.
He doesn’t say anything to my comment, and anxiety creeps into my chest. I’ve always been the annoying kind of person who talks to fill the space. I hate that quality about myself. I’d change it about me in a heartbeat.
But I’m also so freaking confused and terrified by this situation.
He shot my phone, his dog trailed me through the woods, and then he knocked me unconscious. I’m not bound and gagged… But there’s also nowhere for me to go.
And what about my change of pants?
I push my hair out of my face and wrap my arms around myself. Never mind the breakup—er, break when it comes to Adam. This is much, much worse. I’m probably in a house of horrors, and this is just the beginning.
All I can do is hope like hell there’s a search team out there coming for me. There’s no way Adam would just let me disappear like this. My hands begin to tremble in my lap, and I swing my legs down, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floors. I shiver. All the while, the man’s dark eyes just bore into me, gauging my every move.
“You changed my pants,” I comment as I slowly go for the water, seeing his gaze follow my arm.
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I pick up the bottle and unscrew the lid, nerves rolling through my stomach so hard, I begin to feel nauseous. Did he do anything to me? I shift uncomfortably. I don’t think so. I don’t feel like I’ve been violated.
“Your jeans were wet.”
I study his face for a few moments but then nod, taking a sip of the water to avoid him noticing the heat flushing my cheeks. This man saw me partially unclothed. Yikes. I focus on my actions instead. I’ll test the drink with just a little sip at a time, and if I start to feel off, I’ll stop. Self-preservation, I guess. Though, I have to admit the moment he had me cornered, there was a part of me that wished he would’ve just pulled the trigger over dragging me into his cabin.
But maybe he’s just a backwoods mountain man. That would literally be best case scenario at this point, but let’s be honest, I’m just trying to make myself feel better. I’m probably going to die a horrible, painful death at the hands of this guy. My mind plays with that idea as I take another shaky sip. I’m so freaking thirsty, but so scared I’ll pass out again.
He won’t let me even use his phone.
I take a stab at him, trying to talk away my growing panic. “Why can’t I use your phone to call someone?”
He shrugs, his thick shoulders bobbing only slightly. “Don’t have one.”
I furrow my brows, not for one second believing him. “You don’t have a phone? Not even a landline?”
He just stares at me.
“Okay,” I mutter, more to myself than anything. “Do you know how long this snow is going to last?”
“Couple of weeks.”
“That’s how long to expect to be snowed-in? Or how long the blizzard itself will last?” He chuckles, and my heart skips a few beats at the sound. “I’m from Oklahoma,” I clarify. “We don’t get snow like this.”
“I know.”
I clench my fists. “Okay, so then how long is the actual snowstorm going to last?”
“Three to four days.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “And then I’ll be able to leave?”
“No.”
My chest tightens. “Why?”
“By the time they get out here to clear the roads, the second storm will move in,” he reasons, his tone bitter with annoyance.
The urge to cry bites at me, but I push it away. Losing it in the woods with this guy was embarrassing enough. “So, when will I be able to leave?”
“Stop asking so many goddamn questions,” he roars, jarring me. I brace as he pushes himself to standing, his six-foot-something, muscular frame towering over me. I shrink away, preparing to be attacked, but he only shakes his head. “Just shut up and drink the water.”
His boots thud across the floor, and my eyes follow him as he disappears down a dark hallway off the main room, leaving me alone. I wait for what feels like hours, though I know it’s just minutes, expecting him to return… But he doesn’t.
Where’s the dog? I scan the room, and then carefully, stand to my feet. I set the water down, and ease across the living room, my socks silent. Clearly, my host is an abrasive asshole, and I think it’s safe to assume he’s dangerous.
And pissed I’m here.
I enter the kitchen, a dim light on above the stove. He still has electricity despite the storm, so that’s a plus. A chill wafts through air and I shiver again, wishing I had a blanket or coat. I glance around and my eyes land on the fridge, my stomach growling. God knows how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I don’t know the date. I don’t know the time.
And it’s sobering.
But surely, someone is looking for me, right? I mean, Adam? And what about my family and friends? They’d be unable to reach me? And I’d think Adam, despite us not being together or whatever, would tell them what’s going on?
Ugh. The thought nearly sends me to my knees. I take a deep breath, and decide to keep creeping, focusing on the inherent risk I’m taking instead of everyone panicking over me going missing in a blizzard.
Making my way to the fridge, I continue to take in my surroundings. Paranoia and fear hang heavy over me, still unable to let go of the image of him coming after me with that rifle tucked in the crook of his shoulder—like he was going to use it. I shudder as I open the door.
It’s stocked to the brim with nonperishables.
But as much as I want to take something out to eat, I know I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t touch anything. He might kill me. With that thought, I close the fridge and catch sight of a butcher block. Would it be stupid to take a knife and hide? Or would it make him more distrusting of me? I swallow hard as I contemplate the situation. Nothing could prepare me for this, and I know if this is a dangerous situation, my survival will require reading him correctly.
So, I leave the knives alone.
I retreat to the couch, my stomach sick and my heart aching. My mind replays the tense conversation I had with Adam before the call dropped. I hurt him. He hurt me. Again. He said what he said to his brother, but he’d been right about how rocky we’ve been. We can’t get along for whatever reason, and maybe it’s because I feel so fucking stuck in life right now—like I’m getting nowhere at all at thirty-one.
And I hate it.
My job as a content writer is fine. It pays the bills, but just because the bills are paid, doesn’t mean that I’m happy with it. I’ve been in the same place since I was twenty-seven, and the last four years just blew by. I thought Adam was the next step…
But he was just as stagnant, and when we started bickering, respect for each other flew out the window.
Or maybe he’s always been that way? Am I just now seeing it?
I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. I pull my knees into my chest, eying the pitch-black hallway that swallowed my host. I let myself stare at it for a few moments, and then allow myself the freedom to let the tears loose. I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon, and that’s about the only comfort I have for now.
So, here's to being trapped with a horrifying asshole, and praying my freshly ex-boyfriend will figure out how to rescue me before I die in this cabin.