With her flesh dripping with sweat and her hair fiercely clinging to her cheeks and the back of her neck, she swiped a hand across her forehead and slowly blinked her eyes open.
The second thing she noticed was that someone had relocated her.
She sat up with a jolt, then instantly regretted the move when her head pounded with a deep, stabbing ache as a constellation of stars spun before her. Clutching the side of th
e dirty mat she’d slept on, she willed the pain to subside. When it finally dulled to a more tolerable throb, she forced herself to stand and take a look all around.
How long had she been here?
Her mind reeled toward the past as she fought to recall. She’d tried to run—tried to outwit her captor—only to be outwitted by them.
Last thing she remembered was the sharp pinch on her thigh and then . . .
And then nothing.
While she’d managed to escape, it hadn’t been on her terms. Someone had moved her, but where—and why—only they knew for sure.
Had someone come looking for her?
And if so, how close had they gotten?
Or had her captor simply thought it prudent to never stay in one place for too long?
All valid questions best left for another place and time. While Madison had no concept of how long she’d been out, now that she was conscious again, she needed to move quickly. Needed to get a better sense of her new surroundings, then work out a new plan for escape. And this time, there was no room for mistakes.
The relentless heat, as unbearable as it was, provided her with new hope.
While the last room hadn’t been air-conditioned, it had been very well insulated, which not only kept it several degrees cooler than the outside temperature, but also made it much more difficult to break out of. But in this room, when Madison pressed her palm flush against the wall, it proved solid enough that it wouldn’t give easily, but not so solid that she couldn’t feel the surge of hot air emanating from beyond.
Was it possible that if she screamed very loudly someone might actually hear and come running to help her?
At the moment, she deemed it better not to try. She needed whoever was keeping her to assume she was still knocked out cold.
Though the room was dark, it wasn’t so dark that Madison couldn’t discern the vague outlines of her various belongings. Locating her cashmere scarf abandoned a few feet from the mat, she wrapped it snugly at her waist and tied the loose ends in a knot. While it was clearly too hot to wear, it could come in handy once she was outside, since there was no telling where she might find herself.
After exploring every square inch of the floor and running her hands along the walls, checking for shelves, she determined her shoes hadn’t made the trip with her, which was really too bad. Those four-inch stiletto heels could easily take out an eye.
Other than the mat she’d slept on, and a lone bucket placed in the corner with a roll of toilet paper just beside it, the room was not only decidedly empty but also a major downgrade from her earlier digs, which in comparison seemed downright luxurious. Either she was in a temporary holding cell, or whoever had taken her no longer needed her and they’d dumped her there to die.
She didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out.
The door was locked, but then she’d expected as much, though she was encouraged to find it was made of wood and not metal like the previous one. Metal was impossible to break through. But wood was an entirely different story. And wood in a hot, dry climate was prone to aging, weathering, and splintering, which would only work in her favor.
While whatever they’d given her left her feeling frailer than she was used to, Madison summoned what remained of her energy and sprang into action. Grasping the bucket from the corner, she repeatedly rammed it hard against the door, until she stumbled back in fatigue and despair, riddled with grief to see the door hadn’t so much as budged.
She lay sprawled on the floor, sweaty and breathless as she searched for other options. There had to be a way out of there, had to be. . . .
Her gaze caught on a spot in the middle of the wall that, while impossible to fully discern in the darkened room, appeared patched, as though it were covering something.
Something like a window, maybe?
Without another thought, Madison jumped to her feet and started pulling at the wood. Tearing her flesh and bloodying her hands in her efforts, she had no choice but to work through the pain.
She continued punching and tugging until she heard that first, deeply satisfying crack as the wood began to give way and separate from the wall, ultimately revealing a small broken window she could easily fit through.
Flipping the bucket upside down, Madison balanced on it for one precarious moment, before she inhaled deeply and dove straight into darkness.
She landed with a muffled thud and quickly scrambled to her feet. Stealing a handful of seconds to catch her breath and get her bearings, Madison darted forward and raced headlong into the night.