Page 15

AURELIA

T he cookbooks, which one of those creepy bastards left stacked on the nightstand for me, might as well be in a foreign language: braise, core, dredge, sauté, and brine.

I don’t understand any of it.

This morning, I’d woke up once again in the bed of twisted branches, and it had been only slightly less jarring than before. It wouldn’t have been bad at all if not for the mysterious nausea and stomach cramps that roused me. The sick feeling only intensified when I realized I hadn’t slept alone. Khalil was already gone when I awoke, but the indentation in the pillow and the lingering warmth of the sheets told me as much.

I’d taken a much-needed shower only after making sure I was alone in the cabin, and then I donned the peasant dress because it was the only thing I had left that was mine. The constant was a constant reminder that I didn’t belong here and that I had a life waiting for me outside of this cabin.

I’m sure if the guys knew that, they’d burn it, so mum’s the word.

Despite their warning that they expected three hot meals a day, the guys hadn’t dragged me out of bed to cook for them again. With great satisfaction and amusement, I wonder if it’s because they weren’t looking forward to sampling my amazing culinary skills again so soon.

At the moment, I’m sitting cross-legged on the unbelievably cozy bear rug in front of the fire upstairs, studying recipes for canning and making butter because it’s better than dwelling on reality.

I may never leave this mountain.

If I’m not found, I’ll be confined to this cabin for the rest of my life. It’s not like my captors could take me into town and introduce me as their girlfriend or anything. I’m too recognizable, and thanks to the plane crash, that now includes the people in this remote corner of the world.

Maybe in a few years, but I doubt they’ll take the risk.

After reaching the end of the first cookbook without finding a recipe that seems possible for my limited skills, I don’t even bother reading the others. Wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand, I stand on unsteady feet and walk toward the kitchen.

The sound of something snapping and then a pained squeal draws my attention toward the side door just off the kitchen. I didn’t understand what could have made the sound until I searched behind the trash can and saw a wooden mouse trap and the gray furry rodent caught under the clamp. It squeals and wiggles to be free, but the trap’s hold on it is too strong.

Join the club, Ratatouille.

Shuddering, I leave it there since I’m no fucking exterminator. I pour myself a glass of water and sip it slowly as I wait for the feeling that I’m about to vomit to fade. When I’m sure I won’t pass out, I walk the cabin for the third time since my arrival.

You know how you walk into a room and immediately know something is missing, but you can’t put your finger on it?

The feeling started yesterday when Khalil showed me around, but it’s amplified now that I’m alone, and I don’t have Khalil, Thorin, or Seth watching my every move. I don’t realize what’s missing until I’m back in the den, staring at the back wall in disbelief.

The weapons are gone.

The crossbow, rifles, spare hunting knives, and other shit that I can’t even name are missing. There’s also a noticeably empty space on the console table that I could have sworn had been occupied before.

A record player?

No.

A radio. And not the kind that gets your favorite music station.

There had also been a huge map on the adjacent wall, but it’s gone now.

It takes me a moment longer to piece together why Thorin, Khalil, and Seth would go through the trouble of moving all of their gear.

They’d hid it.

My guess is while I was out of it.

I eye the tall metal locker in the corner. There are chains with thick, rusted links wrapped around the handles and a padlock to secure it.

To keep me out of it?

Definitely.

Instinctively, I turn and round the couch until I’m standing over the footlocker they use as a coffee table. Had that lock been there before? I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. My memory is good but not photographic good.

Collapsing on the couch, I stare at the floor, but then all I can see is me on my knees that first night, so I close them until the memory fades, and I don’t feel so dangerously close to splintering apart.

Thorin, Khalil, and Seth didn’t just refuse to help me. They stripped and locked away anything I might use to save myself if it came to that. They stacked the deck so that I don’t ever stand a chance.

Feeling this raw and angry need to fight for my survival rise inside me, I open my eyes.

As cruel as it was, Seth had at least helped me see that it was weak to wait around, hoping to be rescued.

No one’s coming for me.

I guess I knew that. Every day that I’m not found lowers the chance in the eyes of the world that I’ll ever be.

If I’m going to survive this mountain and its men, I have to stop thinking of myself as the Aurelia before the crash—the popstar and the celebrity.

America’s sweetheart.

I’m not that girl anymore—if I ever was.

I’m the fallen star that may not gleam brightly anymore, but I’m stronger for it. If I’m going to be saved, I have to do it myself.

I mentally run through a list of everything I’ll need to make it off this godforsaken mountain.

Vengeance will come later. When I’m out of their reach, but they’re not out of mine.

I’ll need a map—if I can find the one they hid and figure out how to read it.

Clothes for the climate.

Food.

Water.

Protection.

A phone.

It’s hard to believe they don’t have one. All the way out here? It’s too big of a risk, but I don’t remember seeing any cell towers, so I cross a phone off my list and add a radio in its place.

When they healed me, they unwittingly showed their hand.

Thorin, Khalil, and Seth are no ordinary cavemen. They’re cunning and resourceful and two steps ahead, which means I’ll need to be three.

Food and water.

So far, it’s the only thing I can get my hands on, but it’s a start.

I gnaw on my thumbnail as I continue to plot—to plan. I thought my uncle had exorcised me of the habit, but it’s back with a vengeance, and I can’t bring myself to care.

I’ll have to find something to carry my supplies in and a hiding place to store them until I’m ready to make a run for it. Somewhere, these mountain men won’t think to look. It doesn’t take long before I have the perfect place in mind.

Thorin’s words from the night before rise in my memory with a vengeance as my mind shifts to the most challenging objective. The task that—without success—will make all the others meaningless.

“These wilds haven’t tamed us, and neither will you.”

Yeah…we’ll see about that.

Standing, I take one step to get started on my chores when the room spins.

At first, I think I’m about to black out again, but my throat jumps, and I clap a hand over my mouth before making a mad dash to the bathroom, where I empty my stomach of last night’s meal.