Page 126 of Guarded Knight

And I’ll ruin the one who’s done this to her.

33

The van hits a pothole,and I slam into the side of the cart.

Pain zips up my spine. My shoulder throbs. I try to curl tighter, but there’s nowhere to go—nothing but scratchy fabric and industrial plastic pressing in on all sides. The lid above me is shut tight. No air. No light. Just the humid stench of sweat, detergent, and fear.

I can’t move my hands.

They’re zip-tied.

The rag in my mouth is suffocating and there’s tape over it now. I can barely breathe through my nose, let alone clear the mucus clogging my throat. I’m dizzy with lack of oxygen, the heat inside this box.

My brain claws for air as much as my lungs.

Trent is my stalker?

Trent. The bar. The pharmacy. No. He can’t be the stalker. He can’t…

The stalking started in Santa Fe. Have I ever seen him there? He’s a pharmacist… at my local drugstore?

Or maybe the hospital?

I retrace the steps I’ve taken at Santa Fe General. My trips to the pharmacy… I’m so hot and dizzy it’s hard to think about anything but escaping here.

And then I recall it. Bumping into a giant man when coming out of the x-ray changing room. A man in scrubs who lingered too close. Pretended to check a chart.

But that man had long hair. I hardly looked at him; I was in a hurry.

Think, Lara…that guy had long hair…

Trent has a buzz cut…

Did Trent work at Santa Fe General?

Then, a sudden jerk and I fly into the other side of the cart when the van screeches to a halt. There’s a movement from the cab of the truck. Oh my God, he’s coming for me…

The back door of the van opens, followed by the lid of the laundry cart, and his face appears like a terrifying clown in a house of horrors. He reaches for me… I pull myself tightly away, knowing it’s in vain. He reaches for the tape and rips it off my mouth with a vicious sting.

“I can’t have my angel suffering back here.” He fishes the rag out of my mouth.

Air finally flows into my lungs, though they’re full, heavy. I cough loudly. The rattling in my chest is fierce, and I hack it up, sucking wind through phlegm.

I want to tell him to let me go, shout at the top of my lungs, but all I can do is cough.

Tears stream from my eyes from the coughing, but my eyes sting not from fear, but from fury. At him. At myself. At my own body for betraying me now, when I need it to cooperate and get me through this.

Every cough feels like it’s splitting me in half, but the rage is stronger. Rage that I didn’t see him sooner. Rage that he thinks I’ll break.

I should have trusted the unease, the itch in my skin when I first met those eyes. I wrote it off—one of those faces that felt familiar. Now I know why. He was already in my story. I just didn’t know I was in his.

Trent runs his hand along my head like he’s patting a dog. “There, there. I’ll get you water and calm you down.” He shovesthe double doors closed and climbs back into the driver’s seat but leaves the lid off, a sign of mercy. “I have so many new medicines for you to try.”

He puts the pedal down dramatically, wheels screeching, and I slam into the back of the cart. The van swerves; he’s on the run, with purpose.

He has medicines to try? He’s going to drug me… what the hell kind of sadistic asshole is this? And he’s a pharmacist… he must have access to the unthinkable.

Terror rips through me. My lungs burn.