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I look around the room. My body feels sluggish, my eyesight blurry, but my brain—what’s left of the functioning parts, anyway—looks for my way out.
If Liam is leaving me to die, I owe it to myself to at least try to get out of here.
I start twisting my wrists. They’re tied together, but the rope isn’t tight. It’s loose enough for me to wiggle, so I move my arms back and forth, guiding my hands to do what’s necessary. My right shoulder twinges against a pain as it shoots up my arm, no doubt pulling some muscle while trying to be a damn acrobat.
I feel my right thumb slip out and sigh with relief, easily wiggling the rest of my hand out. I grab the binding with my right hand and let the other hand out then look around the room, looking for any cameras. I don’t see anything, so I quickly pull my hands to my front and get to work on my feet. They’re tied much tighter, and it takes me several minutes to get them loose. Once I’m free, I stand up, but I didn’t consider how that would go and immediately fall to the floor.
My head swims, and it feels like I got punched in the face. Oh wait…I did get punched in the face.
“Ugh,” I groan. How could I forget that? I slowly reach up to feel my nose; it’s tender to the touch, and I know it’s broken. I really don’t want to see what it looks like now.
I slowly get myself back on my feet, and I grip the rope, holding it tightly as I stalk toward the door. I try to remember any self-defense moves I’ve ever seen. The only thing that comes to mind is Sandra Bullock’s display in Miss Congeniality, which I’m not sure will help me at this point.
Looking down at the rope, I make a quick decision just as the door opens.
