5
Keegan
Oh, my fucking head.
It hurt like a motherfucker from having face-planted into the asphalt after that psycho in a suit tased the hell out of me.
I searched around the small chamber I was trapped in. A lone cot I’d woken up on, an iron-barred open window, and a wooden door that looked like something out of some boring-ass BBC miniseries—I didn’t know what the hell to think of my new cell.
Was I in prison?
No, it had to be some sort of nightmare.
That girl was a princess? What did that make Owen?
Would’ve helped if they hadn’t taken my phone away and I could have googled some of this shit.
I sat back down on the cot, taking deep, controlled breaths. I needed to calm down. Yes, that would help.
The door to my cell started to open, and I jumped back to my feet.
Images of the sorts of people who could have awaited me…or been here to carry me off to some far worse imprisonment over what was clearly a horrible misunderstanding…raced through my head. But when I saw Owen, my fear shifted to rage in an instant. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t appear assertive or aggressive or overly confident. He looked as guilty as he should have felt.
“Oscar?” I said, alert and wanting some fucking answers.
“It’s Owen.”
“No shit. I was being an ass—something I’ve learned you’re particularly good at.”
He stepped inside, and a guard shut the door behind him.
“I think we should go ahead and straighten all this out.” He started toward me, and his face twisted up. His strong jawline clenched as he assessed my face. “Your head is scraped up. Give me a moment.”
He pounded on the door. “Grab me a first-aid kit immediately. And there should be a doctor on the way to assess his injuries!”
The guard responded, and Owen hurried back to me.
“I don’t think I’ll need a doctor,” I said. “I’m not that hurt. More than anything, I need to let my friends know where I’m at and that I’m okay.”
“Of course. I don’t have my phone on me, but I can get yours.” He started toward the door when I said, “No, I think I’ll take answers first, and then we can deal with the rest.”
“Yes, sorry. I’m just trying to make this up to you…if that’s even possible.”
This was a side of him I definitely hadn’t seen yet. And really, it was nice to see him so concerned about me. It made me feel a little safer.
“Did they hurt you anywhere other than your face?” He approached and inspected my arms.
“Yeah, my hip hurts a little, but it’s not bad.”
“Here, let me see.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, retreating quickly.
He seemed surprised by how fast I’d pulled away from him. He closed his eyes and muttered, “This is all my fault.”
“Okay, this part where you’re all worried about me is hot and all, but I do need to know what the fuck with…everything.”
“I’m struggling with where to begin.”
