Painful Reminders

Chapter Nine: Trapped

She had locked herself in the bathroom for the past half hour. I could hear her struggling to get around and mumbling irritably under her breath, hissing in pain. I knocked on the door, "Amya, do you need assistance?"

"No."

"Amya, let me in before you hurt yourself more."

"Not a chance." There was some more shuffling followed by a shriek and a thump. "Motherf—"

I broke through the door with a curse. "Amya, you're being ridiculous."

She was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, one arm wrapped around her side with the other clutching her cast. She blinked up at me, surprise written all over her face, sliding her gaze from me to the broken doorframe and back again. "You're much stronger than you look."

"Are you hurt?"

She looked down at her cast, then pointedly at her arms before slowly looking back up to meet my eyes. "Obviously."

Clenching my jaw, I glared down at her before crouching down to scoop her up. "You won't heal if you're not more careful."

"I've been abducted by a psychopath," she replied dryly. "My odds aren't all that good anyway."

"If I were going to kill you, I'd have done it by now."

"Some killers keep their victims alive for days. Even weeks. Robert Berdella kept his victims alive for up to six weeks."

"Amya," I ground out.

"Stop saying my name," she snapped, slapping my hand away as I lifted her left leg back onto the pillows at the foot of my bed. "I hate it when you say my name."

I found myself praying for patience. "Then what should I call you?"

She gave me a poisonously sweet smile. "I hope you can never call me again."

***

If looks could kill, I'd be taking my last breath. Cassian looked at me like he was picturing his hands around my throat. I continued to smile back at him until he looked away and walked back to the chair. "Why can't I go home? Why can't I see Becca?"

"I already told you."

Rolling my eyes, and deciding I wouldn't be able to go anywhere with him watching me, I settled onto the bed. "She's safe? Do you swear?"

"She was under the impression that you were upset with her."

"Upset with her?" I repeated, confused. "Why would I be upset with her?"

"Living arrangements," he answered, pulling out his own phone and studying the screen.

Understanding hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt sick. "Oh god."

"I've taken care of it."

"Taken care of it? How in the hell could you take care of it?" I snapped out venomously.

He looked up from his phone, meeting my gaze with a stony look of his own. "Would you believe me if I told you?"

I struggled to lift myself back up, causing him to shoot up with a curse. "Take me home. Take me home, or I swear I will raise holy hell and make you wish you'd never laid eyes on me."
"Too late," he replied, holding me down. "I've been wishing for that from the start. I compelled your friend. She believes you've taken a job in Washington. She doesn't remember the argument, and she believes you came through with only the smallest of injuries. Zeke will be going to your previous place of employment and compelling them as well once the sun goes down."