“Hello, my sweet.”
A blood curdling scream rips through my throat when a pair of hands grip my shoulders.
I’ll never be free.
Chapter Twenty-Five
SEBASTIAN
A hammer hits the inside of my skull in sync with my heart rate. I moan and hold my head the spot where it hurts and wince when I feel a giant knot the size of two eggs. I inhale a deep breath. I am no longer in the woods. I can’t see the rich earth or the dampness clinging to the air.
Wherever I am, it smells like piss.
It fucking reeks.
“Hey, Knight!” someone shouts and bangs against metal. The sound reverberates and I hold my head with both hands and double over in pain.
“Keep it down,” I slur, still half out of it. I’m not too sure if this is dream. Maybe I haven’t been in the woods at all? Another reality, dream mix up? I need to get my head examined if shit like this keeps happening.
“Your lawyer is here.”
“My lawyer? What?” I shake my head to get the fuzziness out, but it is still there. My eyes blur and when I sit up, I notice the concrete bench all too well.
Fuck. I know exactly where I am.
I jump up and spin around, looking up and down, noticing the metal floors and ceiling. The bars are round and thick, caging me in just like they did in prison. It smells like piss because the person next to me is currently taking a leak in the corner, not bothering to aim in the toilet.
“What the fuck? Hey! How did I get here? Where am I?”
“Wow, you really don’t remember?” the cop laughs. “You must have really been wasted.”
“I wasn’t drinking.”
“Not what you’re beer-soaked shirt said when we found you dumped near our door this morning.”
Wow. He must feel like a really smart man.
Fucking idiot.
I lift my shirt to my nose and inhale, wincing when I smell the alcohol. “I’ll take a breathalyzer to proof I didn’t drink a drop, or a blood test. I was set up. Someone poured this on me. I have a knot the size of fucking Texas on my head.” I regret when I raise my voice because my head throbs harder. “Where is she?” I glance around looking for Gabriella. “Where is Gabby?”
“Gabby? There’s no women here. You’re at the Trinidad County Jail. Don’t you remember anything?”
“No… I… She isn’t here? No. No. No,” I whisper, holding my hand against the wound on my head. “You don’t understand.” I grip the bars with my hands and shove my face between the rods. “He has her! He has her. You need to let me out of here. You need to let me go so I can find her. You don’t know what’s happened. Fuck!” I scream, then kick the cell door with my foot.
“Calm the hell down, or I’ll write you up for insubordination. You already have a kidnapping charge.”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone! He kidnapped her! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Explain it to your lawyer,” the cop says, the familiar cling of
the cell brings back memories I don’t want to think about. I have to remain clam. Gabriella needs me more than ever right now.
Zeke power makes all the cops look at him as he strolls through in his Armani suit. His hair is slicked back, shining with product, and if I have to describe what he looks like, I’d say a mafia boss.
“Zeke, I’m fucking glad to see you.” I am alleviated. My worries are cut short when I see his money-hungry, bloodthirsty face.
The cop places the cuffs around my wrist, and Zeke lifts up his hand, speaking in a thick New Yorker accent. “He won’t be needing those. He isn’t going to do anything, okay?”