My wrists burn behind my back, the ropes or wire tied around them digging into my skin and tightening when I move. I’m going to have sores on my face when the gag is removed because it’s tied so tight it’s making my jaw ache.
My nose runs from the cold, but fiery pain shoots up my neck when I try to turn my head and wipe my nose on my shoulder.
I sense a movement behind the light, but it’s still too bright for me to see anything. I squint as best I can, moving around to draw attention to myself.
My first instinct is to ask them to save me, make them see me, but I quickly realize the person behind the light isn’t my savior, but my captor.
Whoever it is doesn’t approach me. They don’t threaten me or explain why they’re holding me here in the freezing cold.
I pause to listen, wondering if I’ve somehow only imagined there being someone else in the room, and that frightens me as much as my tormenter being here with me.
Silence swarms around the room like a living thing, the wind outside only heard on occasion as it whistles through the building, bringing with it more frigid air that tightens my muscles. I can’t tell if it’s the temp of the room or the ligatures on my wrists making them go numb. More than likely, it’s a combination of both, and the longer I’m tied here, the crazier my thoughts get.
I can’t accept that I won’t walk out of here alive. I know I just have to, but my mind focuses on things like wondering how successful I could be if I get frostbite on my hands, and I lose fingers. I wonder if Ethan will still be able to look at me if the gag tied around my face leaves me looking like the Joker.
My eyes burn with tears even with them squeezed closed to block out the majority of the light streaming in my direction.
In my head, I beg and plead. I make promises to any entity that could possibly be listening if only they will allow me to survive.
I jolt like I’ve been struck by lightning when a song starts to play from a device behind the light.
Hope of surviving begins to dwindle as a familiar lullaby reaches my ears. I’ve somehow become a toy, and any person willing to mentally torture someone like they’re doing to me right now is going to have no problem hurting me physically when they get bored with keeping their distance.
Chapter 33
Legend
“I’m not leaving,” I hiss, and this may be the very first time I’ve ever disobeyed Kincaid.
He doesn’t get angry, although he has every right.
He nods his head in understanding but doesn’t back down. His hands come up as if he’s trying to coax a scared animal into trusting him.
“We’re not going to find anything here. Let the police work. Come back to the clubhouse so we can work on finding her.”
“Work on finding her?” I snap, my hand ripping at my hair. “She’s not at the fucking clubhouse.”
“And we have no other info to go on,” Kincaid says softly. “We’re only in the way here.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Colton directing several officers. They’re taking fingerprints and assessing the situation, but the thought of leaving makes me sick to my stomach. This is the last place she was, and I may never see her again.
“Stop,” Kincaid growls. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t let shit like that in your head. Max is using every tool he has to find out what happened. Now let’s go.”
His growled command leaves no room for argument, but I feel weaker with every step I take away from her deserted car. Walking away, even with the promise to continue looking for her and gathering information at the clubhouse, feels like giving up, but he’s right. The police have things handled here. Staying is actually doing less than I could be doing to locate Faith.
The drive back to Cerberus property is spent with my nose to the window on the off chance that I’ll see her just strolling down the road in town. Once we hit the city limits and face the desert, those thoughts turn morbid with the chance of seeing her out here.
Walking into the clubhouse is eerie, everyone looking up hopeful when we walk through the door despite them knowing they would’ve been contacted if she were found. I don’t make eye contact with anyone as I follow Kincaid to the conference room. Each member is at the table with either a laptop or a tablet, obeying Max when he barks commands on what they need to be working on.
Each one looks up at me, a fierceness in their eyes that tells me they’ll stop at nothing to bring her home safely. Emotions clog my throat as I pace the length of the room while Max gives Kincaid an update. He says a lot of words, but the end remains the same. They’ve found absolutely nothing. There are no cameras around that area he can find, and the parking lot she pulled over in for the flat tire is a dead zone of activity, far enough off the road that would make it easy for someone to rush in and take her without anyone being wise to the crime occurring.