I opened my eyes slowly, the last thing I remembered hitting me like a slow wave—the alley, Carlos's grip, that sharp smell, and the world going dark. I half-expected to wake up on a cold cement floor, hands bound and locked up in some dank cell. But no—this was definitely...nicer. Not at all what I'd imagined waking up in, and certainly not where I'd expected to find myself after Carlos knocked me out.
The room I was in was elegantly furnished, with deep mahogany furniture, soft lighting that cast a warm glow, and a huge bed I was lying on. The bedding was soft, the kind that would make anyone want to curl up and stay in bed all day if they didn't have a grudge against their captor. I sat up, brushing a hand through my hair, taking in every detail with cautious curiosity.
That's when I noticed something else. My clothes—my original clothes, the ones I'd put on last night—were gone, replaced with new ones. I was now wearing a loose, plain t-shirt and joggers, both comfortable but definitely not what I'd chosen. An immediate surge of embarrassment and anger rose up inside me. Had Carlos...? Or had one of his goons...?
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. It was weirdly humiliating, the idea of someone else changing my clothes, and I didn't want to linger on it. My clothes were nowhere to be seen—no gear, no weapons, nothing that gave me even a hint of control in this situation. I searched the room in silence, frustration simmering as I scoured the drawers and closet, hoping I'd find them stashed somewhere, maybe shoved out of sight. But no luck.
Carlos had probably ordered them destroyed, just to make sure I couldn't use anything against him. I let out an exasperated breath, deciding I'd have to drop it and focus on the real issue at hand: finding a way out of here.
I walked across the room, my feet sinking into a thick, luxurious rug that stretched over the wooden floor. The whole place was too polished, too deliberate. Everything here had been designed to look a certain way, to make people feel a certain way. But it was still a cage, no matter how gilded. I reached for the doorknob, wondering if it'd even be unlocked. Surprisingly, it was, and the door swung open with an easy click.
But the moment I opened it, I was met with a brick wall in the form of a guard, towering in front of me, arms crossed and expression stern. He was a huge guy, his broad shoulders blocking most of the doorway. His face was as stony as his stance, but his eyes watched me with sharp attentiveness. Yeah, he was definitely under Carlos's orders to make sure I stayed exactly where I was.
"Going somewhere?" His voice was a low rumble, more of a warning than a question.
I took a quick step back, suppressing the urge to scoff. I could play this situation a few ways, but right now, antagonizing the one person who might have even a shred of sympathy wasn't my smartest option. Instead, I let my expression soften, hoping my innocent act would get me at least some kind of cooperation.
"Actually... I was just wondering if you'd, you know, let me cook something?" I gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm starving. And being locked up in here doesn't exactly come with room service."
He looked unimpressed, though I noticed a flicker of indecision cross his face. "Not happening," he said flatly, his gaze unwavering.
I sighed, making my expression as pleading as possible, giving him my best wide-eyed, helpless look. "Come on," I tried again, keeping my tone soft. "I'm not going to run. I just want some food. And it's not like I'm going to find a five-star chef around here, am I?"
He regarded me in silence, clearly fighting with himself over whether or not to give in. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he'd refuse again. But finally, with a long, resigned sigh, he muttered, "Fine. But don't think for a second you're trying anything."
A triumphant smile spread across my face, though I did my best to hide it as I nodded. "Thank you," I said, as sincerely as I could manage. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it."
He gave me one last glare before he turned and led me down the hallway. The place was sprawling, but every inch of it was locked up tight, the doors and windows either bolted or reinforced. Carlos had clearly planned for any attempts at escape. Still, it was good to get a look around, to start piecing together an idea of the layout.
The guard led me to a small kitchen on this floor, tucked away behind a heavy, carved door. He gestured for me to sit at the counter while he moved around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and utensils. I settled in, watching him work with a strange mixture of amusement and curiosity. For such a hulking guy, he moved surprisingly smoothly, his hands deft as he sliced vegetables and set a pot on the stove.
I couldn't help but smirk a little as he went about cooking, clearly experienced at it. "Didn't expect a guard of Carlos's to know his way around a kitchen," I commented lightly, trying to gauge his reaction.
He shot me a glare but said nothing, focusing on his work with fierce concentration. The rich aroma of garlic and spices filled the kitchen, making my stomach growl despite myself. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now, and I hated that something as simple as food was getting to me. But even I couldn't deny it smelled incredible.
When he finally set a steaming plate in front of me, I took a cautious bite. And it was...well, amazing. Way better than I would've expected from someone whose primary job seemed to be acting as my personal watchdog. I glanced up at him, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.
"Okay," I admitted, "I'll give you credit. This is actually really good."
His face softened just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but I caught it—a slight blush creeping over his cheeks as he looked away. "It's just food," he mumbled, trying to brush it off, though I could tell he was pleased.
I chuckled, savoring each bite, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as I watched him avoid my gaze. The food was warm, comforting, something almost normal in a situation that was anything but. And for the first time since I'd woken up here, I felt a tiny sliver of control, even if it was only over my own reactions.
After a few minutes of silence, I glanced up, setting my fork down as I finished. "Thanks," I said quietly. "I needed that."
The guard nodded stiffly, still avoiding my eyes as he took the plate. He cleaned up without a word, and I took the opportunity to take in as much of the kitchen as I could, noting any possible exits or anything useful for later.
But even as I analyzed every angle, the truth settled in: I was still stuck here, still Carlos's captive, still waiting to find out what he wanted. This moment of calm, of something approaching normalcy, was a brief reprieve in a storm I knew was far from over. But it was something. And until I figured out my next move, I'd take whatever small victories I could find.
