In this sequel to 'Wanted For Pleasure' volume 1, Morgan and Chris deal with the fall out after Malcolm Jameson's demise.
Thinking their one and only obstacle is out of the way for good, Morgan dedicates her time to repairing her and Chris's rocky r...
"In leash-less confusion, I'll wander the concrete Wonder if better now having survived Jarring of judgement and reason's defeat the sweet"
──────⊱⁜⊰───── 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏
I wake up like I've just escaped a nightmare. Except, when I look around at my surroundings, I think I'm still in one.
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My first reaction is to scream for help, by what good would that do? Judging by these walls, they're soundproof.
It's hot, like unreasonably warm in here. I think I'm about to faint—
~~~
"Morgan?" I hear a voice. Perhaps God's.
"Psst!" The mystery person speaks to me again, this time trying to wake me up.
I crack my eyes open and sit up, freaking out that I'm still tied up.
Oh, God, how long has it been?
After struggling to get myself out of the rope, I give up and hang my head in defeat.
"Morgan?!" Chris's voice appears to me, giving me hope.
I lift my chin and sniffle, blinking the water from my eyes so that I can look across the room clearly.
It is him, I feel immediate relief with the realization.
"Chris!" I exclaim. "Oh my God!"
I try wiggling myself out of the straps again but it's no use.
"Shhh." Chris sends me a warning in a whisper.
He's tied up as well, sitting almost directly across from me at the back of this bunker.
The lone yellow light above our heads keeps flickering, making this all the more disturbing. I can only see Chris's face in glimpses but every time the light dangles over him, I see more evidence that he's been hurt. Pain hits me deep in the chest and I start to cry, seeing him like this, blood coming from his head and a scratch under his left eye.
He's a sweaty mess, but at least he's out of his jacket, only wearing a long plain t-shirt, jeans, and Black Timberland boots - exactly how he looked leaving for work this morning.
"Where are we?" My voice strains as I try again to free myself from the rope that binds me to the bench that's implanted in the ground beneath me.
"I don't know." Chris monotones.
He isn't trying hard to free himself, but he is looking up at the ceiling, as if for a way out.
