I flip on the lights.
And scream.
Waylon is lifeless on my bed, covered in blood.
26
Langston
I yank on the chains that have held me for the past twenty-four hours. The yacht has long ago stopped moving; I don’t know where though.
I allowed myself to be tied up. I took that as the only option when I was bleeding out and too weak to fight.
But the bandages have stopped the blood from flowing, and my body has regenerated plenty of new red blood cells. These chains won’t hold me much longer.
I test their strength once more. The chains are solid—only a person of abnormal strength might be able to break them. Unfortunately, I don’t have that strength.
I stare at the locks around my wrists. I smile. I do, however, have the ability to pick any lock.
I glance around for something I can use to pick the lock. I don’t have much to work with—the clothes on my back, a fork, a plate, and a coke can on the floor that they left me to eat.
I pick up the can and fork. This will work.
Five minutes later, I’ve carved the aluminum of the can into a lockpick.
A moment later, the locks release on my wrists, then my ankles. I’m free.
I’m being kept in a small dark room at the base of the ship. The door looks bulletproof, but when I try the handle, it’s already unlocked.
Strange.
I look for something I can use as a weapon as I move up the floors of the yacht. When I make it to the kitchen, I find a drawer of knives. I put several into my pockets and then grip the largest and hold it out in front of me as I continue to creep around the ship.
After making it to the top deck, I haven’t run into a single person. Why are there no people? What the hell happened?
“Looking for a ride?” Enzo says suddenly from above me.
I smile brightly as I shield my eyes from the sun and look up at him. A helicopter has landed on the upper deck—my escape.
“I assume you are the reason no one is on board?”
He shrugs. “We might have had something to do with it.”
“But you couldn’t free me?”
He sighs. “We were working on it, but we thought your prideful ass would want to save yourself.”
I chuckle as I climb up the stairs to where he stands. “That’s code for you couldn’t get through the door.”
He growls. “We were working on it.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Once in the air, Enzo tends to my wounds.
“There are no bullet fragments inside. It looks like they were shooting you with rubber bullets. They left some serious marks, but nothing as bad as it could have been.”
I put on the clean black shirt Enzo hands me. “Rubber bullets? Why would they do that?”