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Chapter 20
Addie
Iwoke up groggily, barely able to remember where I was yet alone what my name was.
I had been at...Elena’s house. Yes, I briefly recalled the cute manor. The garage had been lit up with flickering lights. Calax had kissed me so tenderly, so reverently.
And then what had happened?
The power had gone out. I had talked to Ryder.
And then something.
What that something was, I couldn’t discern.
I seemed to be lying in a bed. The mattress was rough, and I did not have a blanket on. The latter discovery was the most shocking. I always - repeat always - curled myself up in a blanket. All of the guys knew that. Whenever I were to fall asleep at Fallon’s house, one of them would drape a blanket over me so I could create an Adelaide-cocoon. Unfortunately, I didn’t transform into a butterfly until after I had my coffee. Before? I was a man-eating worm on a quest for vengeance.
I tried to stretch my taut muscles, but something restrained the movement. I tried again to no avail.
Flicking open one eye, I turned towards my arm. I blinked furiously at the sight, certain I was seeing it wrong or jumping to conclusions.
But nope.
Even as I attempted to lift said traitorous arm, I knew the effort would be futile. I was literally tied to the bed by thick ropes. Both wrists and both ankles.
Okay, if this was Calax’s way to let me know he was into kinky shit, then I would have to take a hard pass. He could find another girl to tie up.
Actually no. Only me.
“Cal?” I asked wearily. My body felt heavy, and my eyelids continually threatened to close. I blinked again, desperate to stay conscious.
There was something I had to remember. Something important...
My memories were foggy, but one face continued to sneak along the edges of my memory.
“Ryder?”
The rope burned where it dug into my skin, leaving hideous red gashes that seemed to deepen whenever I struggled. I lifted my head, the movement surprisingly difficult, and stared at the unfamiliar room.
Was I still in Elena’s house?
It appeared to be a bedroom, yet it was utterly devoid of any pictures or memorabilia. A desk was pushed against the far corner, and a closet, empty of clothes, was opened directly in front of me. While moonlight filtered through the shut blinds, artificial lighting greeted me from the propped open door.
Apparently, this house had electricity.
Hadn’t the generator run out of batteries?
My head throbbed, though I couldn’t decide if it was from the beginning of a headache or the end of one. There was also another reason why my head hurt so badly.
The realization had me gasping in alarm.
The hooded figure. The pan. Ryder.
Oh my.
My mind, bordering between hysterics and fear, latched onto the second word almost mechanically. A damn pan. Why did they have to use such a cliché? Seriously, did they have no originality? I already used a pan; they weren’t allowed to too. The pan betrayed me.
And then I thought of Ryder. I thought of the blank expression on his face before his eyes fluttered shut. I thought of his body hitting the ground, my own helpless to stop his fall.
