Wildfire

Chapter 46 (Part II)

46. Extract (Part II)

When I woke for the second time, I was sure that I had woken up inside some sort of lucid dream. The lamp in the corner — I knew it was there, even without turning my head — cast a warm, yellow glow on the lilac walls and the glow-in-the-dark stars were eerily familiar.

For a moment, I was thirteen-years-old again, waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare — except my 'nightmare' was a dangerous reality. I was in my old bedroom — my first one, from when I was a child. All of my things were in their place, even the items I had packed and taken to my grandmother's after my mother's funeral.

I pushed myself up on the bed and immediately wished I hadn't. My head throbbed violently and I clasped my hands over my skull, squeezing my eyes shut as I waited for the pain to ebb. I could feel a bump rising from where Leon had hit me, along with another at the base of my head.

It took me all of five seconds to realize how I'd probably acquired that one.

Killian.

My mind spun as I remembered what had happened the last time I was conscience. I struggled to join the pieces together in my head, but I felt like I was missing a variable. Something in the equation didn't make sense.

My one source of relief was that Diego was safe — for another few days at least. I knew in my gut that he wouldn't find me, or even try to.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that, rubbing gentle circles into my scalp with the tips of my finger before I heard the jangle of keys. A second later, the door was unlocked and a woman I recognized as my father's... secretary or whatever... walked inside. I felt that same pang of familiarity as I looked at her, but I couldn't place who she resembled.

Instead of speaking to me, she moved toward my closet. She left the door open but I could see the outline of another person standing out in the hall, along with their gun holster, and I knew that trying to make a run for it was futile. I watched, half-afraid, as she rifled through the clothes inside — clothes I didn't recognize — and came out with a pair of blue drawstring pants and a matching t-shirt. They looked like something from a psych ward.

"Put these on," she instructed in a cool, pleasant voice. Like a robot.

I waited for her to turn her back or close the door, but she did neither.

"Do you mind giving me some privacy?" I asked her.

She smiled, the expression so cheerfully fake that I hurt my eyes to look at it. "You can have privacy when you earn it."

Earn it?

A trickle of fear ran down my spine and it really started to hit me that I was in some serious danger. As soon as I had figured out the link to my father, something inside of me had eased a little... but as I stared at the woman, I realized that the link to my father had probably placed me in even more trouble.

To them... I would look like the black sheep of the family.

The wolf-fucker.

When I refused to move, she moved toward me, her arms lifting... and I realized that she intended to undress me herself if I didn't comply. A flicker of horror rushed through me and I scrambled to change my clothes before she could do it for me. My head throbbed with each movement but I powered through it.

A part of me wanted to give up.

A part of me wanted to submit and just get whatever they wanted over with. I knew that as soon as Diego died, Georgina or Marco was going to come for me anyway. I'd never remember this...