Dark memories rise in my mind again, and I shove them away.
The last thing I need right now is all that junk in my head. I need to figure out what to do.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a small voice.
“Diamond Springs,” he says. “My place.”
I’m so confused, I can’t answer him. The cuff of silk on my hand has started to feel heavy, as if I’m carrying a massive weight that binds me to Owen.
The hell it does!
The drive isn’t a long one, and by the time we reach Diamond Springs, all my worst fears are running loose in my mind. I’m in such a state of panic, I feel like my head is about to explode, but I manage to appear calm as Owen pulls me out of the car.
He mistakes my paralysis for compliance and walks beside me up the path, keeping me in front of him the wholeway. When he unlocks the door, he pushes me in ahead of him, and as it swings shut behind us, my knees start to tremble again.
“Owen—”
“I’m sorry about this,” he says, without much sincerity. “But I had to.”
“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
Owen chuckles. “You think I’m going to fall for that? It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“Oldest trick in the book or not, I still require a bathroom from time to time.”
Owen cocks his head at me, then slowly nods. “Okay. But I’m going to stand right outside the door.”
“Whatever you like,” I mutter.
He leads me through his house, a large, modern building with flashy open spaces and huge windows. My panic wanes a little as I take in the scope of the place.
He’s a lot richer than I thought.
“Okay,” he says, gesturing to a door at the end of a corridor. “Five minutes, then I’m banging on the door. If you don’t open it, I’ll shred it into toothpicks.”
“Noted,” I mumble, pushing past him to go inside.
After closing the door behind me, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I look pretty much like myself, just a little tousled.
I don’t wait long before I go to the only window, carefully lift the latch, and slip out into the woods beyond.
It might be the oldest trick in the book, but with good reason. It usually works.
Chapter 3 - Owen
How long does it take to fucking pee?
I wait at the bathroom door, listening to the faint rush of water into the sink as I run through a mental list of everything she might be doing.
Washing her face? Combing her hair? Flossing?
Minutes pass, and the sounds behind the door don’t change. Suspicion leaks through me, a faint trickle of anxiety—not just that she might be gone, but that she might have outsmarted me.
Impossible!
“Trina!” I yell, banging on the door. “Open up right now! What the fuck are you doing in there?”
Silence, except for the run of gurgling water.
