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“Yes. Forever. And I mean that. Every day until our last.”
My sob woke me from my dream. From the memories of my Master. Pitch black surrounded me and I flew to a sitting position, only making it inches up before my head connected with something hard. I froze for the briefest moment before confusion set in. Then…panic.
Frantically, my hands flew up, patting around me, realizing I was surrounded by what felt to be wood. Fear had my legs drawing up, only to be stopped from lack of space. The strangled cry that left me couldn’t be stopped. Was I in a wooden coffin? Some sort of crate?
“Oh, God. Help! Somebody, help me!” My fist beat against the hard surface as my body went crazy inside the confined space. Louder, I became, each plea for help making my throat burn even more from the force of my yells.
But no one came. There wasn’t a sound I could detect, except my own.
Sobbing, I forced myself to calm and replay the events of how I’d gotten here. Nothing was really registering. My brain felt fuzzy and my tongue was thick and swollen in my mouth. Where was I? My ears ached and I wasn’t sure if it was from the dead silence or—
A blood curling scream left me as I saw my Master crumpling to the ground in my mind. Dark crimson poured from his chest. Pain was clearly etched on his features as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Was he dead? He’d been rushing forward. Right in the direction of me and my kidnapper.
My head shook and I couldn’t bear to think of the possibilities. Not yet. I moved forward in in what I could remember. Leather. The whole time it had remained, sliding over my face at our rushing through the parking garage. It didn’t lift until the door opened and a cloth pushed against my face. Then…nothing.
Now, here I was, trapped in a prison of my own making. Again. Why had I fought Zain? He loved me and wanted to protect me. Hadn’t he proved that time and time again? Yet, I’d probably broken his arm, if not hyperextended it, and more than likely, he was dead. All due to my stubbornness. Of my lack of indecisiveness. I’d lost the only man I ever loved and it was all my fault.
No, I refused to believe that. He was a fighter. He’d survive.
Sobs returned and with each one, I could feel how hard it was to breathe. The air supply wasn’t good, and would probably continue to get worse until I was dead. Especially if I was underground.
But if I wasn’t…if I was in the air…on a plane…
Was that even possible? Wouldn’t I hear engines? Could I have not boarded yet? Already be off a plane? How long had I been unconscious? There were too many questions and none of which I had an answer for.
Enough of this, Lily. Focus. Feel. Search every inch of this box as best as you can and try to figure out a way to escape. Master wouldn’t want you lying here completely helpless. He’d want you to be strong. To exhaust every option. Do it. Think like him. Become him.
I closed my eyes and let my hands rise to the very top, all the way to the far left. Slowly, my fingers explored, taking their time as they worked their way to the right and then down. Back and forth, I went until I got to chest level, and even lower to my hips.
I refused to give up. Nothing was impossible. My Master had taught me that. And if he wasn’t dead, I’d make my way back to him, no matter what I had to do.
Chapter 12
Slade
“Let’s go over this again. Zane Collins introduced himself to you back in May, six months ago. From there, you both had run-ins, but nothing except small talk. Then, out of the blue, five days ago, he comes to you asking for a job.”
My fingers weaved through my hair as I stared at Gaige’s narrowed eyes.
“That’s right. It was the day he was shot. He came to the building asking if I had a department I could put him in. Accounts, I believe he asked. He stated he had a background with handling money.”
“Legally or illegally, Mr. Roberts?”
I sat up, matching Gaige’s suspicious expression.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? If it was illegally, why would he supply that information to a complete stranger? Unless you’re implying something else. Something that I really don’t think I like the sound of.”
Gaige’s finger flicked over the folder he held, while his gaze stayed fixed to mine.
“You called me in because of your sister’s abduction. It was supposedly linked to Mr. Collins. Thing is, Mr. Roberts, I have no evidence aside from your word that your sister has been taken. No ransom call. No video surveillance whatsoever due to faulty footage from the building the supposed abduction took place. And, you’re having me investigate a fucking ghost.”
“A what?” I sat up straighter, confused.
“Zane Collins is not Zane Collins. He’s Zain Cook. His mother, Amelia Cook, and his step father, Jeffrey Cook, were killed when he was eight years old. He disappeared that night, never to be seen again. It was speculated he died in the fire that was set to destroy the evidence, but a body was never recovered. I guess we now know why.”
My head shook. The family he mentioned, were they linked to the ones that had died, or was this the new family who took him? “He has family. He told me they were dangerous.”
Gaige’s head tilted to the side. “Why didn’t you mention that before?”
