The guard's hands were like shackles on Kiara's arms as they dragged her down the hallway. She'd attempted to struggle, mostly for show, seeing as her strength wasn't what it normally was. Going without food while held hostage would do that to someone. When she could stomach the meager rations they often left her wanting for more, more than she was too proud to ask for. Kiara had no idea exactly how long Carlos had kept her here. The days blurred together incomprehensibly, and he'd already taken her phone and watch when they'd snatched her on the beach. Her best guess was at most a week, maybe.
She sure felt like it had been a week. She'd been without a shower or clean change of clothes since they took her and the denim of her shorts was starting to chafe and itch her skin painfully. But it was a pain that took a backseat to the chaos, uncertainty, and fear coiled in her gut like snakes. That same mix of fear and disgust leap up her throat when the guards finally brought her to what seemed like their final destination – Carlos' room.
The ornate doors swung open with a resounding hollow sound and Kiara's heart dropped again, sweat prickling at her brow. Just what was he planning? A million thoughts raced in her head, and none of them were good. She balked at the threshold, using the last of her strength to dig her heels in, even as the men yanked on her arms. It wasn't until one of them struck the backs of her knees, almost making her fall entirely, did she finally start moving. Her heart was pounding so hard that it hurt, her whole body hurt, every nerve lit up by adrenaline and dread.
Had the man finally lost his patience with the interrogation?
Even the implication was enough to make Kiara choke up, but she blinked away the tears before they could fall. No use giving him the satisfaction of seeing her weakened. She needed to be stronger now than she had in all her young life. But just as Kiara was breathing deeply and preparing herself for what seemed like the inevitable another curveball was thrown her way. In the grand, sweeping interior of Carlos Singh's bedroom, sitting at an ornate crystal coffee table across from the man himself was a familiar face.
Rafe Cameron.
Her breath caught when his gaze met hers, and the way that his eyes practically sparkled made her shiver. He looked gaunter than she remember seeing him, features sharp and drawn, dark smudges under his bright eyes. He even had the nerve to smile at her.
"What're you doing here?"
She found herself spitting, surprised at how steady her voice was.
That caught everyone's attention, Carlos' hawkish gaze pinning her in place, mouth drawn in a grim line. He opened his mouth to speak but Rafe was quick to cut him off,
"Taking care of business Kie, what's it look like?"
Rafe replied an oily grin stretched over his face.
The use of her nickname caught Kiara off guard and she bristled against Rafe's casual tone. He talked like he was just taking a stroll in the park or picking up a dime bag – smug bastard. She grits her teeth against how flippant he was being, it seemed that she was jumping from the frying pan and into the flame,
"Well excuse me for interrupting – I don't have much of a choice here-"
It was useless to keep volleying with him, he was full of himself, self-righteous even. It wouldn't set her free, it wouldn't take her back home, Back to where she belonged, with her friends. Rafe tilted his head curiously, and it seemed like a comeback was at the tip of his tongue before Carlos cut in,
"We were indeed discussing business," He said brusquely, eyes flitting between the two of them, "The business of your release to be exact."
Release. Freedom. Home.
