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And Corvus. I’d seen Diesel speed past like a bat out of fucking hell. And Drake said…
I couldn’t believe anything Drake said.
Corvus was probably fine.
He would be fine.
He had to be.
None of them could die because of me.
Why hadn’t I just listened?
Stupid.So fucking stupid.
My fault.My fault.
I clenched my teeth so hard I heard them click in protest, my fist shaking as I beat it against the door, heat rising in my face.
“Open this fucking door,” I shouted, my voice hoarse and breaking. “You fucking coward!”
I listened for a reply, my heart a jackhammer against my ribcage. The darkness within pooled, sparking with rage.
I beat the door again, the hit reverberating down my arm. “Hey!”
Again. “Hey!”
Drake was a dead man. If that was even his name.
He could keep this door locked all he wanted. They would come for me.
They would come for me, right?
My stomach turned and a stinging ravaged my throat, bringing hot tears to my eyes.
Would they?
After what I’d done?
The darkness drained away, taking with it the last dregs of adrenaline still pulsing through me.
I wouldn’t come for me.
The truth settled in my stomach like lead. “I’m on my own.”
My eyes traveled the four walls, no more than seven feet in length each. The gray color wasn’t painted. Not cement, I realized, squinting through the remaining haze still making the edges of my vision foggy.
I winced, pulling myself to the side to push my hand against the nearest wall. The spongy surface cushioned my fingers.
A padded cell?
No.
This wasn’t padding. Not the kind you’d find in an insane asylum. I’d seen foam like this before. On the walls of the closet in Corvus’ bedroom. In the little recording studio he’d built there. Soundproofing.
Wherever I was, Drake worried someone might hear me.
I dug my fingernails into the foam, theshushsound of it splitting as I peeled it from the wall making me shiver.
