Puppet {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 37

Electricity was one of my biggest weaknesses. When I was still with the Con Rồng they used a kind of shock treatment on me when they were manipulating me. That was the biggest reason I was so weak to it. That was also why I could recognize the ache when I started to come back to consciousness. Every nerve tingled and my hands twitched to get feeling back into the fingers so I could move them, and I had a headache focused right at the front of my skull that throbbed and kept me from opening my eyes for a few minutes after I woke up.

I spent those few minutes assessing where I was, moving my hands to see if my wrists were tied down, then my feet. I wasn't strapped down, but I also wasn't lying on the cold steel of the beds in the Con Rồng torture chamber. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but it wasn't hard. It was like a military cot, with a single pillow at my head but no sheet draped over my body. It was cold, and the smell wasn't great, but I knew immediately I wasn't in the bunker.

It took me a bit to remember everything that had happened, but when I did my eyes snapped open and I shot straight up with a gasp, my head whipping back and forth looking for Arthur or Kailas or anyone. Unfortunately, I was alone, and what's worse, though not exactly unexpected, I was locked in one of the very cells that the Asper had escaped from.

Evidently when I'd passed out they tossed me in here for their own safety. I could definitely understand why, considering how messed up the entire situation was, but the potent sense of utter betrayal, guilt and fear washed over me in an overwhelming wave that had my eyes burning. My vision blurred before the first few tears heated my cheeks, my teeth gritting as I stared at the locked door to the barred cell. I was a prisoner again, in the basement of the Phoniks Vidroh, because everyone saw me with a knife to Rhett's throat, Jayden dead on the floor, added with the fact the knife I had was the one used to kill Jayden.

I'd seriously been stupid enough to grab it and now my finger prints were all over it! No wonder Rhett had been wearing gloves. He fucking planned this! I curled one hand into a fist and let out a frustrated noise as I punched it into the concrete wall beside me, then threw myself onto my back on the cot and covered my face with my eyes, nails digging into my forehead as I tried to fight back the need to burst out sobbing.

All of what I'd gone through to be accepted by these people and one bad thing ruins it all. My emotions were so overwhelming I wasn't even sure what I wanted to cry about: Jayden being dead, getting tossed into a jail cell like a common criminal, the fact everyone probably hated me now, or the fact Kailas was probably the one who threw me in here.

No, there was no way. Thinking clearly about it I was sure Kailas never would have allowed this. If he was against it when I first got here, then there was no way he'd be okay with it now, even if I was a suspect to Jayden's murder. He wouldn't lock me away, he'd just pull me aside and ask for answers straight out. Which left only one thing. This was Roman's doing; I was certain of it. Rhett probably had a hand in it too.

So that left me alone with the image of Jayden dying. How was Kailas taking it? How was Gale? Were they okay? How long had I been unconscious? Why hadn't anyone come to see me or question me yet? God I was hoping Kailas would be there, I don't think I'd do well with Roman questioning me. Then again considering Kailas knew me personally, that probably made him unfit to question me, because he'd want to go easy on me and just let me go. No wonder I was in a jail cell. Damn that man was too soft!

I pushed my hands up away from my face, raking my fingers through my hair when I heard the heavy steel door creak open, pushing myself to sit up so I could see light streaming into the room from the opening. My nerves spiked dramatically as footsteps lead into the room, at first panicking because if Rhett could sneak down here in the middle of the day to break out our prisoner, he could probably sneak in again to get rid of the one person who was witness to what he'd done: me.