Page 3 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Emery

W aking up hurt worse than getting hit. Bastards hit me over the head hard.

My head throbbed. My mouth was dry. My wrists burned.

I blinked against the dark, the edges of the room swimming as my eyes adjusted.

Concrete walls.

Metal door.

No windows.

One camera, over the door.

Red light blinking.

Great. Someone is watching me sleep. Bastards!

I was in some sort of cell or something. Probably underground. Was I still at the training center? I looked around and saw an old toilet in the corner. I guess that was my toilet. Fuckers. I would use it when I badly needed to use it. Then, I remembered using it before. Did they drug me?

And thank God someone had not gagged me. I would have vomited all over myself.

I sat up slowly, testing my limbs, swallowing the hiss that crawled up my throat when pain shot through my ribs.

Bruised and maybe cracked. But nothing is severely broken.

Not yet.

The rope burns around my wrists were fresh. My skin was raw. But my hands were free now, which told me one thing: they haven’t decided if they want to kill me or keep me alive.

Why was I taken?

Were they holding me for ransom?

Sure, I had money, but not that much that I could pay a high ransom.

I’m glad that I’d stopped fighting, or I would have been worse off than I am.

No telling how badly I would have been beaten. They may have killed me. They didn’t try hiding their faces, so I guess they did plan on killing me anyway.

Idiots. What do they want from me?

I moved to the edge of the cot and pressed my ear to the wall.

Nothing.

Then again.

Still nothing.

There were no air vents that I could listen through. I remember when I was little, I would hear my parents arguing through the air vents. I hated it. I ended up rearranging my room and placing my dresser over the vent.

These bastards were smart. How many of these little prison cells did they have here? How many times did they bring someone down here and hold them prisoner? Who the fuck were they?

But I was also smart. I’ll get out of here somehow.

They’d left me water in a metal cup. I was thirsty, but what was in the water? Think Emery. Something had put me to sleep the last time I drank the water. What the hell was going on?

Still thinking. My brain was a little sluggish. How long have I been here?

Still way too dangerous.

They took my phone.

They grabbed my body from the locker room. Someone had to have seen me. There were cameras everywhere. How could they get by with kidnapping me?

They took my control for now. I would get it back.

But they hadn’t taken my mind.

And they sure as hell hadn’t taken my will.

I didn’t know who was coming for me—if anyone even was.

But if I had to get out of this place on my own?

I will get out of here.

And if someone was coming?

I wish they would hurry. I’m tired of this room.