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Sighing, I realize where the real danger is. Inside of me. With this insta-Stockholm Syndrome I seem to have developed.
It’s my own responses and reactions to Cole that have created the shades of gray in this situation. I should be angry, terrified, demanding my release.
Not fucking him!
Almost as if he can read my thoughts, Cole strides into the room, clad in fresh clothes, his hand clutching a black cell phone. "We need to give Ryan a call and let him know you're here with me," he says, his gaze not quite meeting mine as he settles himself beside me on the bed, his weight pressing on the mattress.
I gape at him, finding one of the emotions I should actually be feeling right now. I’m pissed. He can’t surely believe I’m going to do this?
"You've got to be kidding," I snarl, shifting my position on the bed, creating more space between us like I should have in the first place.
He leans closer, his gaze unwavering. “That’s the whole reason we’re here, Amber.”
I don’t know why, but the words sting. As if I wish Cole wanted more from this than blackmail. I scowl at him, nursing the fury. “I never agreed to any of this.”
He chuckles softly, his chest vibrating with laughter. “I never asked you to, you simply don't have a choice.” With a flick of his wrist, he reveals a key in the palm of his hand. “If you want me to let you go, you'll have to cooperate.”
I glare back at him. “Release me first so I can freshen up.”
Cole’s brows shoot up. His lips thin as he draws back, no doubt conscious he has no reason to agree to my demand.
But I hold my breath. For some reason, his answer matters.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” he says gruffly.
Relief floods through me as Cole leans over and releases the cuffs from my wrists. With a surge of urgency, I dart towards the bathroom, the cool tiles soothing against the soles of my bare feet.
Inside, I shed the clothes that cling to my skin, peeling away the remnants of our encounter. The water crashes down in torrents, rinsing away the sweat, tension, and conflicting emotions that cling to every inch of my body. My hands glide over my skin, each stroke an act of purification, seeking to cleanse not just my physical being but my troubled mind as well.
It doesn’t really work.
When I step out of the shower, I’m still just as conflicted as when I stepped in, just cleaner. I’m still a captive.
I’m still confused about my captor.
Crossing the threshold from the bathroom to Cole's room, a sense of emptiness engulfs the space, the silence echoing loudly in the absence of his presence. My eyes scan the room, searching for any trace of him, but find only an eerie stillness. My gaze then falls upon the clothes laid out on the bed, a simple yet unfamiliar ensemble of a cotton t-shirt and shorts that carries a faint hint of Cole's cologne.
Slipping into the garments, I take a moment to adjust, my fingertips tracing the fabric. The material clings to my skin, a reminder of Cole’s own hands doing the same. With a steadying breath, I step out of the room, my heart weighed down by the mix of apprehension and anxiety that swirls within me.
I find him in the living room, hands shoved in his pockets, his back to me. I approach him cautiously, my pulse quickening, each beat urging me to move closer. And to run away...
My gaze flickers towards the living room door, the same threshold I crossed just a night ago. The thought flashes through my mind, like a fleeting spark of hope—how fast can I run? How far ahead can I escape from him? If I can just reach someone, anyone, who would listen and offer their help, I might have a chance to break free from this nonsense.
"Don’t even think about it." Cole's voice pierces through the air, shattering the train of my thoughts. Turning around, his eyes sweep over my transformed appearance, their intensity lingering for a fleeting moment before he arches a brow, a clear indication that any attempts to escape will be met with resistance.
“Right,” I say, drawing out the word as I make my way toward the couch positioned in the center of the room. Settling onto its cushions, I let out a sigh as I rub my forehead. Everything about this situation is confusing. “So what exactly do you want me to do?”
Cole walks over to my side and extends a phone towards me, its sleek form glinting in the light. “Call Ryan, let him know you're here. I'll take care of the rest.”
I gently grasp the phone, my fingers tracing the cool texture of its case. Looking away from Cole, I focus my attention on the device in my hands. The dial pad stares back at me, numbers patiently waiting to be pressed.
I gather my resolve and press the digits.
An audible tone resonates through the room as soon as I tapcall. The air becomes heavy as we both wait in silence, the tension palpable. Then, the sound of Ryan's voice breaks through, cutting through the thick atmosphere like a knife.
"Hello?" Ryan's voice slips through the small device, reaching my ear.
Cole retrieves the phone from my grip, placing it against his ear. "Hello, Ryan." Cole's voice carries an underlying tension, his jaw clenched as he speaks.
