December 26th
9:25 A.M.
The cold was making her sleepy.
Rose was lying in a corner of her cell, curled up in a ball in the best attempt she could make to ward off as much of the cold air as possible. Her body had been shivering for hours, to the point where every one of her muscles ached.
Between the heat and then the cold, she hadn’t had a chance to sleep, and still hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink. While the cramping in her stomach from hunger pangs was annoying, she’d grown up being deprived of food if she didn't perform her schoolwork up to the desired standard, so she was more than used to that.
However, the lack of water was hurting.
It made her body feel heavy and lethargic. Made it harder for her to form any sort of coherent plan, and even if she could, it made it less likely that her body could do what she needed it to do to even stand a chance at escaping.
Right as she was about to drift off into a hypothermia-induced slumber, one she actually hoped she might not wake from, the air in the room began to shift. It was warm air, but not as hot as it had been earlier.
Immediately, she was pulled back from the edge as her body began to shake in earnest in an attempt to generate enough warmth. Whoever was watching her must have realized that if they didn't tone down the temperature torture, they would push things too far and lose the only leverage they believed they had.
They didn't want her dead, she knew that. A dead sister was no way to lure out her brother.
Then again, a live sister wasn't either.
If Mr. Bedroom Man and his friend had done even the most rudimentary of searches into her and Ridge’s relationship, they would have seen that they didn't have one. She was glad to be out from under his thumb, and since she hadn't lived up to his expectations, he was glad to be done with her so he could go about his crazy plans, whatever they were.
Apparently, they included hurting people.
Well, she was assuming that anyway, since it was clear that the man hated her brother.
Slowly, the shaking in her limbs began to taper off, and Rose felt exhaustion weighing heavily upon her. There was no time for her body to get the rest it needed to recover, because she knew whatever these men had planned for her next would come swiftly.
It turned out to be even quicker than she’d thought.
The soft thunk of someone undoing the lock on the door to her cell told her the men were coming before the door opened.
Not bothering to move, she watched as Mr. Bedroom Man entered the room along with five other men. She knew which one he was, even though they were all dressed in the same black outfit. They looked like some campy, stereotypical version of bad guys with balaclavas and gloves. Enough so that she giggled as they stalked into the room.
All six of them were around the same height, and they were all bulked up like they spent most of their time in the gym. There was an air of danger that clung to them like a soft mist, but honestly, she’d spent so much of her life in the dark that a little more of it didn't scare her like it probably should.
“Morning,” she drawled. “Or afternoon, or evening. You know you guys aren't very gracious hosts.” A giant yawn felt like it split her face in two, and her eyes were heavy. What she wouldn't give to have spent her day in bed like she had originally intended to spend her Christmas.
“You think this is amusing, little ladybug?” Mr. Bedroom Man growled as he closed the distance between them.
“I can tell you what I don’t find amusing, and that is that nickname,” she informed him, tilting her head back a little so she could look up at him as he towered above her. “How do I in any way resemble a ladybug?”
“The red hair, for one.” Mr. Bedroom Man crouched before her. One of his hands reached toward her, stopped, hovered where it was for a moment, before the gloved pad of a fingertip ghosted over one of her cheeks. “The freckles for another. Especially when your cheeks were red from my hand around your neck.”
Without another word, that hand that had so gently brushed across her skin snapped out to lock around both of her wrists, and he dragged her up and off the floor. The movement made her head spin, and by the time it had stilled enough that she could think, he already had her thrown over his shoulder and was marching out of the room with her.
The other men hovered around them, but no one else moved to touch her as they walked down a dark corridor with closed doors just like the one that had trapped her in that concrete hell of a room. At the end of the short hallway was a larger open space. A large hook hung in the center of the room, above a drain, and she didn't need to have a vivid imagination to figure out what this space was.
It was a torture chamber.
Glancing around, Rose noted multiple tools hanging on the walls to the left and right of the entrance. The back wall was empty, but two metal chairs were sitting there.
One of the other men stepped up to her, grabbed her hands, and bound her wrists with a heavy-duty plastic zip tie. Because they apparently hated her just because of the DNA that ran through her veins, the man pulled it tight enough that it dug into her skin.
As he did, another of the men reached for the hook and pulled it lower. Mr. Bedroom Man carried her over to it and lifted her now bound hands, hooking them over the sharp metal.
“I'm not the only one making up nicknames am I, little ladybug?” he asked as one of the other men began to dosomething that lifted the hook she was attached to. While her feet were flat on the floor at first, it kept going until she was balanced on her tiptoes, barely able to balance. Didn't help that her body was weak and exhausted. “Mr. Bedroom Man, was it?”
