Christ. I’d passed out from exhaustion and low blood sugar. But it was all right. I was awake now, and it had probably only been a few minutes, if that.
“You’ve been asleep for thirteen hours,” Tony said.
What?
“You’ve gotta eat something, Jez,” he went on. “Gage says you haven’t since he brought you here.”
With those words, my stomach reminded me of every single one of those hours.
“Yeah?” I shot back. “Well, excuse me if I’m not in a hurry to be drugged so they can do god-knows-what to me!”
“They’re not—” He paused, shaking his head as though bewildered. “They’re notdrugging your food, Jez!” He looked around, and picked up an unopened can of soda from the dresser. “Here, look.”
He popped the top and chugged several deep swallows, then thrust it at me.
“Drink it, for god’s sake.”
I took it hesitantly, my throat convulsing with need for the carbonated, sugary goodness. Was I missing something here? Was it a trick, and I just couldn’t see the catch?
But why would Tony let himself be drugged for me? There was no reason he’d do that. And the can had been sealed, right? Even if they’d injected something into it with a needle, the gas would have escaped, leaving it flat, not bubbling.
I cautiously lifted it to my lips. After a couple of sips, my thirst took over and I was swilling it, tipping the can up and up until it was empty. My stomach felt bloated once I was finished, and I let out an inelegant belch.
“That’s my girl,” Tony said... but the words were a monotone, lacking the teasing lilt they once would have held. “Okay. Chips next. Then the sandwich.”
There was a plate of food sitting on the dresser as well, similar to all the other plates of food Gage had delivered and removed later, untouched. Giving in to my growing desperation for nourishment, I accepted the bag of chips after Tony tore it open and ate a few. Same with the sandwich. He tore it in half and took a seemingly random bite out of each part. I took the halves and devoured them, not even tasting whatever was on them.
“Better?” Tony asked when I was finished.
I curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest on the bed. Someone had arranged all the nesting materials I’d been ignoring, making a cozy little haven in the mostly bare room.
“My stomach hurts now,” I said mulishly—because it did.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony muttered.
“But I guess if they were going to do something while I was unconscious, they would have done it,” I admitted. Then, “Was I really asleep forthirteen hours?”
“Yeah,” Tony said. “And before you get some grand idea that I was glued to your bedside the whole time, I wasn’t. I went home to sleep and came back.”
“I didn’t think you’d stayed,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder, listless. “I still want to know why you left me to deal with my stepdad’s body alone.”
God, that had been such a shitty thing to do to him. There was no answer I could give that would make it less shitty. The uncomfortable idea that I was a terrible person had begun circling through my head again, prickling like thorns.
I was silent for too long.
“Never mind,” Tony said. Then, after a slight pause. “Are you seriously scent-matched to these guys? Because... well... Heath and I... we... um—”
A sharp knock sounded at the door. It swung open less than a second later, revealing my Grimm’s fairytale version of the fucking Scotts Lawn commercial spokesman.
“Right, you,” Heath said. “Time for some proper answers.”
