Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Chapter 8
OAKLEY
My body slams against a hard wall, my head foggy and disoriented. I hear scuffles and roars of protest around me, but I can’t open my eyes, can’t scream for help. I try to pull myself from the fog, but it’s impossible. My body feels too heavy to even attempt to fight.
What did he do to me? Where has he brought me?
My hands are yanked behind me and roughly bound, and my shoulders scream in agony just moments before something sticky covers my mouth.
“Oakley,” I hear a familiar tone calling through the fog. “Firefly, come on. Wake up.”
I groan, the sound piercing against my skull, the ache like nothing I’ve ever known.
A door slams in the distance and my body jolts with the shock as I fight against my heavy eyelids, desperately needing to regain control of my body. Laughter sounds in the background mixed with the rough familiar grunts and groans of someone in despair.
Dalton? Is that him?
“Oakley. Fuck. Come on, wake up,” grunt, “we have to get out of here.”
I fight against the fog, and it slowly begins to clear, but I’m a long way from feeling like myself. Lead pulses through my veins, weighing me down, and I struggle to hold my head up, but Dalton’s labored voice keeps me awake.
My heavy lids finally begin to ease, and I peer into the brightness. As reality comes back to me, I’m struck with the horrors of this new nightmare. I’m locked in what looks like a basement, my back against a concrete wall with my hands bound too tight behind my back.
I sit on the cold floor, my ankles bound and my knees pulled up toward my chest, and as I hear Dalton’s familiar grunts, my gaze snaps across the cold room, finding him sprawled on the ground, beaten and bloodied. A metal cuff is locked around his wrist and connected to some kind of lock protruding from the concrete wall.
I try to call for him, my words muffled and inaudible against the tape on my mouth, but I keep trying until he finally lifts his head off the ground. Every part of my soul breaks, seeing the defeat in his once bright eyes. “Firefly,” he breathes, relief thick in his broken tone. “Thank God, are you okay? We have to get out of here.”
I shake my head and realize my face is wet from tears, panic searing through my chest. I look around, trying to search for some kind of escape, trying to put together some kind of plan, but there’s nothing, not even a visible door in this small concrete box.
Dalton pulls up to his knees and does what he can to crawl closer toward me, but only gets a foot before the chains on his wrist pull taut. “I . . . I can’t get any closer,” he says, agony thick in his tone. “Can you move? Can you get to me? If I could just free your arms and legs . . . then maybe.”
Dalton lets out a heavy sigh as he lets his thoughts trail off, almost as though already giving up, but I won’t dare let him. I don’t know what this bastard wants with me, but whatever it is, Dalton isn’t going to go down because of it.
I try to move, but whatever my twisted neighbor used to knock me out is still wreaking havoc over my body. I’m able to straighten out my legs, flopping them to the side, and I try to stretch out toward him, his other hand reaching out and barely brushing past my ankle.
“Fuck, Oakley. Come on, baby. You need to shake off whatever they gave you.”
They? How many of them are there? I thought it was just the neighbor directly opposite me.
The tears stream down my face, but I try to hold myself together. These assholes aren’t going to get the best of me. Pulling my legs back in, I struggle to get my knees back to my chest, but the second I do, I lower my face to my jeans, using the coarse material to try and get the tape off my mouth.
“Yes, good girl,” Dalton says as the movement has my body aching that much more. “Keep going.”
I don’t dare give up, moving my head across my knees as tears drop from my face, soaking into my pants.
The time it takes to release the tape gives my body just that little bit more energy as it slowly works off whatever was on that cloth, and the fog begins to fade. The tape eventually comes free, and I let out a heavy gasp, finally able to take a decent breath.
“Fuck,” I say, my voice foreign to my own ears. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, Firefly, I’ll be fine. We just have to get out of here.”