I kick my heels off and watch as they slam against the concrete wall, the sound echoing through my cell and down the long hallway, where no one will hear me screaming.
I’m in the underground world, and if I had to take an educated guess, I’d say that my cell is directly beneath Carver’s property. Fucking perfect. Just my goddamn luck. I bet he’s sitting up there with his moronic mother laughing about how they put me away so easily.
God, I want to hate him. Why is it so hard?
They’ll fucking pay for this, especially Carver. I’ll never be able to understand how he did this to me. Were the last two months all an act? Does he not care even a little bit? Because if that were true, then why the hell would he go out of his way to save my ass so many times? Why would he let me sleep in his arms, and live inside his home? It doesn’t make sense. There’s got to be something more going on here, something I’m missing.
I drop onto the small, hard bed and use the rough sheets to wipe away the blood that had seeped through the thin silk gown to my skin, desperately wishing that I could get out of here and take a shower. Hell, even the hose attached to the side of my house would be enough. I’d do anything to get rid of the stain of that man on my body. I’d guess for guys like Carver and Grayson, wearing the blood of their enemies is like wearing a trophy, but for me, it only goes to remind me just how low I’ve sunk.
I curl into the hard bed, my eyes wide-open as I fear the faceless men that will come to haunt me the second I allow myself to fall asleep. It’s got to be only six or seven in the evening, but it’s been such a long, exhausting day that I feel as though I could sleep for days on end. But I won’t dare; not here, and certainly not now.
An hour ticks by and quickly turns into two when I hear the distinct rhythmic sound of someone creeping down the hall. I suck in a breath, my heart thundering heavily in my chest.
There’s only a small number of people who know I’m down here, and even a smaller number of people who would have a reason to come for me.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I glance around the small cell and dive for my stiletto heel. I’m not usually one to back down from a fight or even be fearful of one, but right now, I’m at a loss. I’m nearly naked in a cell that I can be easily cornered in, deep in an underground world that I don’t know my way around, with eight different families seeking my painful and timely death.
I’m a sitting duck. I might as well have a fucking target painted across my forehead and a big arrow in flashing lights telling all the creeps where to find me. If someone wanted me dead, today is their lucky day.
The person gets closer and I find myself holding my breath as I cower in the darkest corner of my cell. Facing the door, I do everything that I can to give myself an advantage, but if it’s Carver coming to get me, I’m fucked. I’ll never be able to take him down, nor do I want to.
Carver means something to me, he’s my safety blanket, the warm embrace at the end of the day. He might hate me, and I will do everything I can to make him pay for putting me in here, but I will never be able to hurt him. Carver is something special that I need to get out of my system.
A long shadow stretches over the room, distorted and changing with each step the stranger takes. My rising fear has me gripping onto the heel tighter. If this turns into a life-or-death situation, I can guarantee that I’ll be the one living to tell the story, no matter how brutal I have to be with this stiletto.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The person grows closer.
My breath slows, my hand tightening on the heel in the dim light.
Thump. Thump.
My eyes widen as the shadow pulls across my face, the fear crippling me.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The shadow shifts just one step closer and without sparing me another second to figure out my game plan, the stranger steps into view.
Cruz’s handsome face stares back at me, and the relief rocks through me so hard that I fall to my knees, the stiletto heel clambering across the cold concrete as I catch myself on my palms.
“Fuck, Winter, baby. Are you okay?” Cruz demands, panic lacing his tone as he races to the iron bars of the cell and grips them tightly, almost as though he’s about to attempt to pull them apart with his bare hands. He stares at me, his eyes piercing into my body. “Winter? Please, what’s wrong?”