Page 105 of The Tracker's Revenge

I almost choked but managed to keep a straight face as I climbed back onto the huge bed. I let my head collapse on the pillow and sighed, closing my eyes and pulling the covers tightly under my chin. I was tempted to peek through my lashes, but I kept my eyes shut, listening intently.

Feet shuffled quietly over the floor, but the door didn’t open. After a couple of minutes, I measured my breaths, keeping them at a steady rhythm. After a few more beats, I deepened them, doing my best to simulate sleep.

Finally, after what felt like two eternities, the door opened and closed. Even then, I didn’t dare move for several minutes—not even my eyelashes fluttered. When I was certain I was alone, I turned on my side as if restless in my sleep, and took a peek.

She was gone.

Throwing the covers aside, I hopped out of bed and ran toward the window. Frantically, I pulled the curtains aside and looked out. I was on the ground level of what looked like a house in the middle of the woods—not much different from Eric’s cabin. A thick, moonlit forest started about twenty yards away. There was no sign of a road or anything civilized.

No matter. As soon as I was out of here, all I had to do was shift and lose myself between the trees. There, I would fleet the hell away from whoever was pretending to be my friend.

Please don’t be stuck. Don’t be stuck,I chanted inside my head as I flipped the window latch. Tentatively, I pushed up. There was a loud creak as the wood rose from its casing. I winced and went utterly still, my ears focused on any sounds coming from the door.

Nothing.

I let out a pent-up breath and started to push on the window again.

Someone other than Rosalina spoke behind me, though the tone was still familiar.

“Going somewhere?”

I stopped dead, my heart pounding against my chest. Slowly, I turned to find Mekare Graves, all six-foot-two of her, standing by the threshold.

Chapter 34

Aside from her impressiveheight, Mekare Graves barely resembled the woman I had met in my office. The bangs of her previously plain blond hair were two-toned—one half green and the other jet black. Braids cascaded behind her, their strands a mixture of yellow, black, and green. She wore a leather mini skirt, torn pantyhose, and tall Doc Martens boots with dangling chains. Her top was tight and studded with so many spikes that she looked like a porcupine.

My thoughts raced, tripping over each other, fighting for attention. One, however, was louder than the rest.

“Where are my friends?!” I demanded. “What did you do to them? Where is Rosalina?” I peered over Mekare’s shoulder, looking for my friend.

Was she even here? WasIeven here? What if I was still stuck in the trance?

“I can almost hear the wheels turning inside your head,” Mekare said in a quiet voice very unlike the peppy one she’d used before, the one that had made her seem outgoing and nice. Instead, her entire demeanor was cold and calculated.

“Who the hell are you?!”