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And yet my churning thoughts made it difficult to sleep, even after I'd taken a long, hot bath to relax. Resigned to a long night ahead, I turned out the lights and lay in the king-size bed with black satin sheets.
Either Thorn had soundproofed the room, or all the guards downstairs were quieter than I ever hoped to be. I stared at the play of lights and shadows on the ceiling and begged my mind to shut off so I’d slip into slumber.
Every time I glanced at the clock on the side table, the number had only shifted by a few minutes. There wasn't an analog clock in the modern decor room, but internally, I heard, tick, tock, tick, tock, the clock in my head mocked me as I tried to let go of the insane couple of days I'd just had.
Then my stomach rumbled.
Damn it. As much as I cannot sleep now, hunger would not help the cause.
Was there a break room in the building to score some yummy pre-bagged machine snacks or someone's bag lunch?
I tossed the red gossamer comforter and black silk sheets off and headed to the ridiculously lush closet, where I changed into a pair of leather leggings and a matching vest and checked out the ensemble in the closet door mirror.
My skin seemed paler, but maybe it was just the stress. Either way, I hoped there was some food here. I slid the butterfly knife into my boot in case I had to cut something and headed back downstairs.
From how quiet my room was, I expected no one else to linger below, but the moment I opened my door, laughter and arguments over cards assaulted me.
I guessed that answered that question. So, Thorn's office had not been the only room soundproofed.
I walked down the hall to the railing and looked down to the large atrium where four men sat at the poker table. I started to call down to ask about the state of the food service here when I picked up the strands of the men's conversation.
“How long do you think Thorn will keep this one around?” said one to Hoss.
Hoss tossed a card at the dealer. “One,” he said.
“What, no speculation?” said the first guy.
Hoss shrugged. “For as long as he needs, as usual. And after that?” He shrugged again. “The usual.”
For as long as he needs. And after that—the usual.
The image of my neck slit, dripping blood, and then my body tossed into the swamp to become gator food filled my mind. I don’t know where the image came from, either from one of the men downstairs or my overactive imagination, but I do not need a roadmap to that hell.
Fuck.
Thorn swore he wouldn't kill me, but that was an obvious lie. His henchmen expected it. And right off, I could see that hanging around here was horrible for my health.
There had to be a back way out. Building codes mandated places like this to have more than one exit, didn’t they? But I scanned the hall and did not spot any convenient exit signs. It would be suicide to walk through the front door, telling Thorn I had flown the coop.
I walked the hall, went to my room and opened the different drawers in the enormous walk-in closet and found my shit, and packed them into my pack. Now I had to figure out how to get out without being seen. I checked the window by the bed, but that was sealed shut. I checked the bathroom. Same thing.
Damn.
I poked my head out into the hallway and scanned it again. There seemed to be a depression at the end, and I tiptoed to it, and found a small alcove. And there was the exit tucked into its recess.
Bingo.
Stealthily I walked down the stairwell, and found another door at the bottom. I scanned it carefully, and found no security system or magic sigils that signified a spell. Gingerly, with heart pounding, I pushed it open, expecting all hell to break loose.
Nothing.
I found myself in a gaping maw of a warehouse. Though all that shone were a few emergency lights halfway up the wall, they left stacks of boxes in shadow. I saw no open doors. A whisper of a breeze tickled the back of my neck and I turned and discovered moonlight peeking in through the cracks in the painted industrial-sized window. Someone had left it open a crack, and that opening was my exit.
I crossed the warehouse floor in a hot minute, leaped, caught the lip of the open window with my fingers, and with an Olympic gold move I swung one leg, then another onto the lip. With the sharp lip cutting into my ass, I pushed open the window wider.
At the other end of the warehouse, I heard a door creaking open, and knew I had to get out of Dodge quickly. Peering in the darkness to the ground below, I pushed my butt off the window edge and dropped.
So many things might have gone wrong, but I hit the ground with only a slight bend to my knees. That was almost a shifter-grade drop and was way cool.
