Page 24

Rowan blinked open her eyes, the groggy feeling made her chest heavy like someone had placed a weight on her. It took a moment for her to sit up. When she was upright, her head swam like she had drank too much. But she hadn't drunk any alcohol. He'd drugged her.

The heavy chain pulled as she walked, but there wasn’t any pain. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she stumbled toward the bathroom, wondering why she felt so terrible. The pressure in her head increased along with the unsteadiness of her stomach.

She sat on the toilet as she rubbed her hands over her face, thinking she needed to drink a gallon of water. When she peed, pain radiated. Panic swept in as she sucked in air, trying to figure out what was going on. Her underwear wasn't the aqua-colored panties she'd been wearing when Charles had taken her from her home. This was pink and a style she wouldn't normally wear.

She froze, and worry blasted her. What had happened? Her stomach rolled with disgust. Had he—she cut the thought and reached between her legs to feel herself. The room seemed to spin as realization hit. The bastard had done something when he'd drugged her.

Bile rose, and she turned to face the toilet and dropped to her knees. He’d said he was trying to build trust so she would sign some document that he thought would get him his job back. But now this?

After she shut the toilet lid and flushed, she sat with her back against the cabinet. Her ankle had a bandage around it. Like him caring for the wound dug into her flesh that he’d caused would make her feel better about him? No fucking way.

The bandage explained why her ankle didn’t hurt as much, but that didn’t take away from what he’d done. A shiver hit then another wave of nausea. She was able to hold it down this time.

It took her a few minutes to get up and brush her teeth. She ended up drinking water from the tap, her mind reeling over how he’d violated her. She stumbled back to the main room, staring around, searching for a way to escape. She had to find something that would help her. No way would she last. She had to get out.

She needed to clear her mind, and the only way to do that was to flush out the toxin from whatever it was that he'd used to knock her out. After drinking two glasses of water, she made coffee, searching for anything that could help her escape while it brewed. She'd already tried to break the lock and chain, but that didn't work. It seemed like there was nothing inside the rooms she could find that would help. He'd removed all the tools, along with the sharp knives. She guessed he didn't want her attacking him.

She wished she had a gun because she would think nothing of killing the bastard, even if it meant she was trapped here forever. She would rather die than be abused by him again.

She leaned against the counter, trying to hold it together. She couldn’t believe that he’d taken off her underwear and done that. God, she hated him.

She wiped away the tears that slipped out. She wouldn’t cry, not right now. Later, when she knew he wouldn’t show up, she would let it all out. No way would she let him see her upset. The man was atrocious, and she couldn’t imagine him offering some type of sympathy. If he tried, she would stab him. With what? A fork? It would take too long to do damage with the forks.

She opened the silverware drawer and confirmed that the sharpest thing was a fork. The butter knives wouldn't do any damage. She picked up the fork and studied it. The tines weren't that sharp. If she stabbed him in the eye, it might work. But he would have to hold still for that.

Being trapped out here with no escape was depressing as hell. Her mental state felt like she was balancing on the blade of a knife. One tip to the left or right would cause her to fall into an emotional crisis. She needed to do something to keep herself from falling apart, but it was hard to come up with a reasonable action to keep herself grounded after he'd raped her. This was the type of situation that tried people. She couldn't imagine how women who were held for years coped. She was barely able to keep her mind together, and it had been less than a week.

A car pulled up outside, and fear and revulsion filled her. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm down enough to not fly apart when he entered the house. No question, if she had a weapon, she would use it. Maybe there were weapons here she didn’t see. She needed to be much more inventive in what she could use as a weapon to take down this bastard .

She couldn’t think of that now. Holding herself together and not falling apart was taking all her energy. No way in hell did she want him to see her break down. He wouldn’t hold that power over her.

The door opened, and she froze, her breath stalled, and her head swam. He seemed chipper, and his steps had a pep in them. His smile looked genuine, which scared her even more than no smile would have. He had no idea she wanted to tie him to a pole out in the yard and drench him in gasoline before she lit a fire that would burn him alive.

She blew out a breath, forcing the rage and violence away. If she got too wrapped up in her fantasies of revenge, she wouldn’t survive. She had to be smarter than him to stay alive.

“I brought donuts and two breakfast sandwiches. I hope you’re hungry.”

Rowan cleared her throat, trying to focus on making him trust her. If she attacked him without a plan to disable him long enough to get away, he would retaliate.

“Thank you. I am hungry.”

Charles’s smile fell for a blip of a second before he flashed a grin that made him look innocent. “Good. Come eat.”

Rowan had to keep her cool. She would be forced to play his game to make it out of this alive. Once he left and she was alone again, she could search the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon. Surely, there had to be something here that would help her escape. She wouldn’t die in this cabin without taking him as well.