Kidnapped Love

Chapter 26

Chapter 26:

The heavy metal door grinds open, announcing the new shift. The guardsman strides in with mechanical precision, his boots thudding against the cold concrete. He moves from cell to cell, escorting one woman at a time to use the restroom, his hands gripping firm and unyielding. I press myself against the bars, watching as the other captives pass by. Their eyes meet mine, wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. It's almost time; I can feel it in the charged air. My moment is near. With every passing second, the reality of escape becomes more tangible, like a secret whispered just beyond hearing.

I strain to see each new guard's face, searching for the familiar black hair, the solid build of Derek. But all I find are strangers hiding behind masks of indifference. Where is he? My stomach knots with worry and something else—disappointment? Each absence feels like a betrayal, though I know it shouldn't. He's not here to save me; I have to save myself.

But oh, how I wish Derek were one of them. His presence would be a beacon of hope in this relentless darkness. A part of me still clings to the idea of him being different from the rest, despite everything. It's foolish, but the heart often is.

The guards' footsteps fade into the distance, and silence settles once again. I lean back against the cool wall of my cell, closing my eyes for just a moment. When I open them, I'll need all the strength I've gathered to seize the chance that's coming. It's now or never. And I choose now.

The guard's boots thud against the concrete floor, a steady rhythm of authority and watchfulness. He's a looming shadow draped in black, his gaze sharp as it finds mine. I muster what energy I have left for a scowl, but it's feeble, washed out by my hunger and thirst. My body feels like a husk, drained of all but the adrenaline pumping through my veins at the thought of what's to come. Every muscle is coiled tight, ready.

He claims a stool across the room, resting like a dark bird surveying its domain. With arms crossed over his chest, he becomes a silent sentinel, watching me without a word. Minutes stretch into an eternity until finally, he rises, each step deliberate as he approaches my cell.

I press my head against the cold metal bars, tracking his movements. The keys are hidden beneath me, tucked under the red blanket—my lifeline. The guard squats down, bringing us eye to eye. I lift my gaze, defiant even in my weakened state. His eyes are unreadable behind his mask, yet something in their intensity grips me. I catch the soft brown hue of his eyes cutting through the slits in his mask. There's something different about him—less harsh, more humane—as if he carries an unspoken empathy within his guarded demeanor.

The keys under the blanket feel like they're burning a hole into my side, but I don't dare move, not yet. This is a game of patience, and I must play my part perfectly.

"So you're the one we've been looking for," he declares, his voice even, betraying no malice. I shift my gaze to the side, away from the intensity of his stare; the cold concrete floor offers no comfort.

"You may be acting like you know nothing, but we know you have information we need." His words flow not as threats, but laced with an urgency that suggests a hidden plea. Silence is my only reply; the floor's stains hold my focus as if they could anchor me in this storm of uncertainty.

"Can you please tell me what you know?" The gentleness in his request is disarming, making me doubt the situation I'm in. Is this a ploy, or does desperation color his tone? My lips remain sealed, my resolve firm.

"Some of us didn't choose this life, and we want ours back. You can give that to us." His appeal drifts across the space between us. Slowly, I raise my head, our gazes locking. The kindness radiating from his eyes stirs something within me—reminding me of Derek's own soulful gaze, the way his eyelids would soften when he smiled.