I remain on the floor with my back against the wall, my shoulder throbbing, my head still a little dizzy, and I still can’t get these zip ties all the way off.
My hands are numb. Still, the tie on my right wrist has shifted a little; I just need to keep working at it.
I twist my wrists, testing the angle again, and pain flashes hot and ugly up my arms. My fingers feel thick and clumsy, like they belong to someone else. Someone much less useful. But there’s the tiniest bit of give now, the faintest scrape of plastic against skin that wasn’t there before.
My pulse jumps.
Okay, that’s something.
I drag the edge of the tie against the rough seam in the concrete behind me, using the wall like a saw, like friction alone might decide to be romantic and save my life.
It hurts a lot, but I keep going. I shift again, forcing my hands into a new angle, and the zip tie bites deeper before it slips a fraction.
Just a fraction.
Barely enough to matter.
Except it does matter.
It matters because it means I’m not completely stuck.
It matters because it means this body is still mine. These hands are still mine. This fight is still mine.
“Okay,” I whisper to the empty room. “That’s… hideous, but good.”
My hands are shaking. I keep working. Evie would call thisfinding a foothold,or she’d say something terrifyingly practical like, “Well, don’t just sit there bleeding about it, Rory girl.”
I swallow hard.
“Very sorry to report,” I mutter under my breath, “that I am in fact sitting here bleeding about it a little.”
My voice sounds too loud in the space, so I shut up and go back to the zip tie.
Twist.
Scrape.
Breathe.
Twist.
Scrape…
The door rattles.
My whole body locks.
I yank my hands still behind me and press them flat to the wall, refusing to look up because I don’t want to meet his eyes.
The rolling door lifts with that same awful sound, and light cuts across the floor in a hard gray strip.
Cole steps inside, and immediately I know something’s off. His jaw is tighter. His movements less smooth. He checks hisphone before the door is even fully down behind him, like whatever’s on there has annoyed him personally.
Everything’s changing.
Something outside this room is moving.
My heart kicks hard enough to hurt.
