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She strengthened her resolve, lifting through her hips to stand taller, looking more like someone who could be Ava Jade’s equal than I ever gave her credit for. “Then you’re taking me with you.”
The sharp soundof a breath in my ear woke me, my limbs jerking against a hard wall. An even harder floor.
Streaky light slashed across my eyes, and I grunted, squeezing them shut only to force them open again, panic swelling in my chest as the feeling returned to my bones.
I pushed my back flush against the wall I’d been dumped against, blinking rapidly to force my eyes to see. The persistent rush of adrenaline in my bloodstream helped burn off whatever shit still clogged my veins, making everything feel sluggish. Forced. Harder than it should’ve been.
Pain ricocheted through my thigh when I tried to claw my way up the wall to standing, making me sink back down to land hard on my ass, a dizziness making my breaths come heavier.
“Fuck,” I slurred, my surroundings dipping and spinning in a wild dance around me as they tried to come into focus.
Black spots bloomed in front of me like shadows come to life, and I weakly threw an arm out, trying to shove them back.
I coughed, the weak, wet sound of it rattling my lungs.
A room. I was in a room.
No. A box.
The thing in my chest squeezed at the sight of the gray walls. Four. In a square. No windows. A solid ceiling. A cold cement floor.
A door.
I pushed through the pain in my thigh, dragging my body in a sad attempt at a crawl, cursing the whole way as I tried to kick off the last of the drugs still in my system like a heavy blanket keeping me down.
I slapped a palm against the cool metal of the door, my forehead connecting next as I craned my neck to look up at the smooth surface. Entirely smooth.
No door handle.
No window.
I let my hand fall down the thin seam of the door.
No hinges.
No big deal.
There was always a way out.
Always.
My body seemed to disagree with me, my chest rising and falling faster, fingers vibrating with a tremor that coursed all the way up both arms.
Drake.
My slow mind slogged to catch up, piecing together everything that led me to this fucking box.
I remembered him. Drake. The wind tugging at his hair as we sped through the Deadwood. The malice in his eyes when he plunged a syringe into my leg. When he told me he hoped Corvus died.
Bones…
Oh god.
Grey.
The searing memory of him lying amid the carnage at the Docks, Rook bent over him, screaming. Screaming so fucking loud as he pressed his palms against Grey’s chest over and over.
He’d woken, but that didn’t mean he was okay.
