Minutes tick by, but they don’t make any move to wake me. I force my breathing to remain even and my body to stay still, but their presence is unnerving.
I’m almost positive it’s not Ronan or Damon based on the way my skin crawls while they watch me sleep. After all these years, my body knows it’s safe with them, even if my mind and heart aren’t. Damon has never physically hurt me, and although he will likely be the one to kill me, I don’t think he’s going to start until it’s absolutely necessary.
Which means it’s either Salvatore or one of his men standing behind me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck a calming breath into my lungs, but it does little to ease my anxiety.
Their feet drag across the bricks as they move closer until they pause at the edge of the flimsy mattress.
Unease swirls in my gut as the realization that I’m in danger washes over me.
There’s nothing in here that I can use to protect myself, no one to scream for to help, and after days of being locked in a small space with little room for movement, the likelihood of fighting someone off with my bare hands is low.
I’ve allowed my hand-to-hand combat skills to slip the last year, and I curse myself for my own complacency.
“I always knew you’d return to me, Little Flower.”
No.
Not him.
Anyone but him.
I hoped he was dead. He’s been a pack-a-day smoker my whole life, I just assumed his lifestyle would have taken him out by now, but apparently I’m not quite that lucky.
He drags the blanket down, exposing my back, and another sickening realization washes over me. I’m still wrapped in Ronan’s shirt with just panties beneath.
I have no choice but to relinquish my hold on the soft blanket or I’ll risk him realizing I’m not asleep.
The only way I get out of this unscathed is with the element of surprise.
“I was worried you didn’t eat enough of your soup to feel the effects of the drugs,” he murmurs, more to himself than me.
The motherfucker drugged me?
Even when I think the scumbag can’t stoop any lower, I’m proven wrong.
The fact I only had one single mouthful can only be attributed to the conflict about asking Ronan to leave. It took me hours to talk myself into it, and the idea of pushing him away made eating impossible.
At least one good thing came from breaking my own heart all over again.
A pleased hum brushes across my shoulder when he finds my legs bare, making it almost impossible to hold the bile climbing up the back of my throat.
If I’m lucky, he left the door at the top of the stairs open when he came down here, but screaming is a risk.
Hell, everything is.
There’s not a single clear path to safety, and there’s a very real chance I don’t make it out of here without fresh scars.
Ralph has starred in my nightmares for the last ten years, and if by some miracle I make it out of this hellhole alive, it’ll be at least another decade before I’m free of him in my dreams.
“Such a pretty flower,” he murmurs to himself as his calloused fingers drag the shirt up my thigh. “You may have been off-limits before, but now you’re all mine. There’s no one to save you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and drips onto the pillow. Maybe I should be worried about him noticing, but as horrifying as it is, he’s not looking at my face.
Every touch has a fresh wave of nausea rolling through my stomach, but I force myself to remain perfectly still.
I tell myself I’m waiting for an opportunity to present itself, but I’m not sure I even know what I’m looking for.
