Release Me

Part 25

As the fog of sleep receded and my vision cleared, I noticed Tanner's usual spot on the couch was occupied by a familiar box. With a languid stretch that served more as a stalling tactic than anything else, I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, as if it could shield me from what awaited. Then, reluctantly, I shuffled over to investigate. On top lay two notes. One was in the familiar linen envelope, the other was on a piece of notebook paper.

I'm sure you already know what's in the box. It was delivered this morning. The shower is on the same wall as the kitchen. Look for a small notch in the wall, the door opens towards you. Towels are on a rack inside the bathroom. There is bacon, jam and croissants on the kitchen counter, and a travel thermos of coffee. Start at the end of this note and work backward.  ~Tanner

A chuckle slipped past my lips as I reflected on Tanner's unflappable demeanor. His cool, collected attitude to everything, no matter how unusual, left me pondering his backstory, and what role he might play within the Sovereign Society. Still pondering the thought, I picked up the linen envelope. Fleeting images from the previous night threatened to submerge my thoughts. I violently shook my head, as if the physical action could somehow clear the mental fog.

My fingers danced lightly on the edge of the flap, the linen envelope's cool smoothness a stark contrast to the pulse of intrigue that ran through my veins. The identity of my contract holder was an enigma, shrouded in a cloud of mystery. Each envelope, each cryptic note, was another tantalizing piece of the puzzle.

It was almost a daily ritual now. With each cryptic note, I would find myself questioning why they had chosen me. I would ponder the odd tones I heard when I encountered them—or wonder if it was it even them I had truly heard?

I slid my finger under the edge of the flap, ripped open the envelope, and pulled out the note.

Enclose in the box is today's outfit.

Once per hour, you will tighten the laces.

Ensure everything is ready for tomorrow's art show.

I will be in attendance and look forward to seeing you as an exhibit.

Instead of the normal embossed mark, a wax seal in the same design graced the bottom of the note.

"Good news," I murmured to the empty room, the sound of my voice bouncing off the walls as I made my way to the kitchen. "I'm going to see my contract owner for the first time. Bad news, I'm an art exhibit in this stupid show. There has to be some way to convince Parker to release me from this predicament."

Following Tanner's note, I navigated backwards through his instructions, a pang of gratitude surging at his thoughtfulness for providing breakfast. My stomach growled at the thought, and I picked up a pen to doodle while planning my daily to do list.

Forty-five minutes later, I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. As I stepped into the bathroom, a small box of my favorite makeup items sat on the counter. It required a monumental effort not to dwell on the uncanny knowledge Tanner seemed to possess about my preferences.

The corset, hugging my waist just enough to accentuate my curves, was layered over a delicate silk blouse, neatly tucked under a fitted suit jacket. The woman in the mirror was a stranger, all polished sophistication and allure, so different from my daily self.

With each cautious step through the mysterious tunnels, I followed a breadcrumb trail of sticky notes, my mind spinning to recall fragments from the previous night and ascertain my location deep within this unknown area of the club. As I passed a door on my right, a large yellow note, nearly the size of half a sheet of paper, caught my attention.