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Was it poison? Is this how I die?
I shake my head, trying to calm myself down. They wouldn’t kill me this way. Alone in a room, tied to a chair. After the way I’ve been treated, they clearly have bigger plans for me. Plus, Cole’s father mentioned the auction. I am to be sold. They wouldn’t kill me if they wanted to make money off me.
Strangely, the thought calms me for a moment. I’m only being sold into human slavery, not murdered.
Woo-freaking-hoo.
If nothing else, at least it means there is a chance I’ll see my family again.
My eyes drop closed, too heavy to stay open another second, and in the blackness, Luka and Milaya appear.
He is cuddling her to his chest, rubbing his nose to hers, and he waves me over. I move towards them, hand outstretched.
But just before I reach them, the image swirls like smoke and is gone.
* * *
As soon as I wake up, I take in my surroundings and realize I’m alone.
Then, I throw my weight up and forward, scooting my chair forward.
Before this moment, I was too afraid of being heard to try anything so daring, but I’m not afraid anymore. Sometime in the night, my drugged mind came to the realization that the Morrisons can’t hurt me. Not really, anyway. They can tie me up and leave me without food, but I’m supposed to be sold. No one will want to buy me if I’m bruised and broken. So, there is no reason not to try and escape.
The handles on the china cabinet are in the mid-century style. Long horizontal metal handles with sharpened points. Perfect for cutting through plastic zip ties. If I can just get to them, then I can break through the zip ties and escape.
I’m not sure exactly where I am, but it is my best chance.
I use my toes to counterbalance the chair when it starts to tip and then throw my weight again, scooting forward an inch.
It may take me an hour to get to the hutch, but I have to try.
Based on what I can see through the window, early morning fog is settled low over the ground and the trees, so hopefully no one will be in to check on me for a while.
I scoot forward again, the chair legs scraping and banging on the wood floors, and then again. It is noise, but the house has been empty so far, so I have no reason to believe anyone is inside.
Then, I hear a footstep overhead.
A single thump followed by the creak of the old wood as the weight settles.
I freeze.
“Did you hear that?” The voice is distant but right above me.
I know that voice.
It is Rian Morrison’s.
I grit my teeth but keep going. Instead of throwing my weight, I use what little mobility I have in my toes to slide the chair across the floor. It is loud, but a low sound that is probably more difficult to hear upstairs.
“She is tied up,” a deeper voice says. It is Cole’s father. They are both right upstairs. “She can’t go anywhere.”
I nod, trying to telepathically encourage that line of thinking.I can’t go anywhere. I’m tied up. Stay upstairs. It is fine.
I slide the chair closer to the stand. I am crawling at a snail’s pace, and somewhere deep down, I realize it is futile, but I can’t give up. Not now. Not before I’ve really tried.
“It is about time we check on her anyway,” Rian says, footsteps moving across the upstairs. “I’m going down there.”
Hope sinks in my chest like a stone in the ocean, and I lay my head back and stare up at the ceiling as she moves down the stairs and into the dining room.
