“Who’s there?” My voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper, and I hate how scared I sound.
A pause. Then, low and familiar, “It’s me.”
Bodhi.
The relief that floods through me is completely irrational, given that he’s one of my captors, but my shoulders sag anyway, the tension draining out of me. It’s him. Not Kozlov, and not Piotr, with his wandering eyes and crude suggestions.
Just him.
He doesn’t move, but the shadow from his boots is visible under the door.
“What do you want?” I ask, and even though I’m trying to sound hostile, it comes out more tired than anything else.
“Nothing.” There’s a soft thud as he leans against the door from the other side. “I’m posted here for the night.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’m so tired, bone-deep exhausted in a way that goes beyond just needing sleep, that I can’t seem to summon the energy to think.
“You should try to get some rest,” he says, his voice muffled by the door between us.
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Just like that? In a strange house, full of strange men. One of which has a key to my room.”
“No.” A pause. “But you’re not going to help yourself by staying awake all night. Sleep while you can. I won’t let anyone in.”
I want to argue, but he’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, running on empty isn’t going to help me think clearly, and if I’m going to find a way out of this, I need my wits about me.
“Fine,” I mutter, more to myself than him.
Pushing myself up off the floor, I really look around the room, like the massive bed that looks soft and inviting, but I still can’t bring myself to climb into it. That feels too much like accepting my fate. So instead, I grab the pillow and a duvet off the bed and toss them down on the floor inside the door. If anyone tries to come in during the night, they’ll wake me up. It’s not much of a defence, but it’s something.
“What are you doing?” Bodhi’s voice comes through the door, and I realize he must have heard me rustling.
“Sleeping on the floor.” I plump up the pillow and slide one arm underneath it before curling up on my side, back pressed to the wood.
“Emma. There’s a perfectly good bed right there.” His tone is grumpy. “I already said I won’t let anyone get past me.”
In the darkness, I roll my eyes. Someone’s used to people taking his word for it.
“I know.” I reach for the duvet and arrange it into a makeshift nest, glad for something to fend off the chill on my shoulders. “Maybe it’s you I’m worried about.”
The quiet hangs between us, long enough that I think he’s not going to respond. Then, finally, “No one’s coming through this door tonight. I promise.”
Something about the way he says it, low, fierce, and absolutely certain, makes my eyes sting with emotion. I’ve got no reason to trust him, but there’s something in his voice that sounds almost as if he means it.
I twist toward his voice, pulling the duvet tighter around me until only my face is exposed, then stare at the sliver oflight that’s visible under the door, watching his shadow move occasionally. It’s strangely comforting, knowing he’s there.
“Bodhi?” I whisper, not sure if he can even hear me through the door.
He does. And I see his boots crease through the narrow gap as he squats down, getting closer to the source of my voice. “Yeah?”
I want to thank him, but the words die in my mouth. Gratitude directed at a man who helped kidnap me sticks in my throat, but they’re true.
He waits, then finally a long pause, so quiet, I almost miss it. “Get some sleep, Emma.”
I close my eyes and try to do what he says, but sleep doesn’t come easily. My mind keeps circling back to everything that’s happened, playing it over and over, like a movie I can’t turn off.
The Club. Kozlov’s cold eyes as he announced my fate. Piotr warning me that I won’t be able to keep my new owner happy without learning some new skills.
And then, everything after…
