Page 41 of Abyss

And Jesus, why does my head feel like it’s going to topple over?

Only partial whispered words resound in my ears as I feebly struggle against the cold, unyielding floor. I open my eyes weakly but see nothing. Even as I try to blink, my eyes don’t seem to adjust to the dark.

I reach my hand out, feeling a wall in front of me. “Hey!” I scream, shoving the wall before turning around as panic and bile rise within me. I can’t see a fucking thing. My fingers tremble over the other side of what feels like a vertical coffin. I run my hand up and down, noticing the change of texture—wood. Is . . . is this a door? Feeling my way down, I find a metal doorknob, but it’s completely immovable as I shake it.

“Hey! Let me out!” I scream, slamming my hand over the door as hard as I can. “Hey, assholes! Let me the fuck out!”

How the fuck did I get in here? How did they bring me in here?

God, my head. I wince when my fingers brush over my temple.

I pat my pockets for my phone, but I can’t find it. Fuck! The cretins took that, too.

Hearing people outside, I press my ear to the door gingerly.

“Aster heard her and Nathan mumbling in DeLaney’s class . . . wanting to tag along.” The voice sounds like Josephine’s.

“Yeah, well, she isn’t going to be tagging along for a while.” A male voice, perhaps Dan’s, rises somewhat above the sounds of various machines in the boiler room. Is he the one who punched me? “Text Vance. Let him know she won’t be a problem.”

“What if she rats us out?”

A chuckle leaves his mouth, his voice a little louder, knowing I’m awake, what with all my screaming. “What’s she going to say when she hasn’t seen jack shit? And as for when they ask who put her in there?” There’s a pause and another dark chuckle, wrapped in a promise. “Well, if she loves her brother, she’ll keep her trap shut.”

Chapter Thirteen

KAVI

“I’ll walk you through the apartment. You can have your pick of whichever room you want, besides mine.”

Hudson’s deep voice rumbles around me in his expansive foyer. He puts his keys in a bowl on an entryway table and hands me another set with a small metal orange hanging off it. I roll the orange between my fingers, noting how different and simple it looks in this lavish foyer.

“They’re yours as long as you’re here,” he says nonchalantly, picking up some unopened mail sitting on a tray, reading over the front. His gaze turns my way, noting my silence before flicking down to the keychain in my hand. “Figured it would be easy to recognize your keys since you’re always wearing . . .” he waves in my direction, at the strawberry graphic on my tank top, “fruit.”

I stare at him, silently because words seem to have escaped me, before finally mumbling, “That’s thoughtful. Thank you.”

He stiffens, throwing the mail back into the tray. “It hasnothing to do with being thoughtful; just practical and part of our business arrangement. Don’t overthink it.”

Well, okay then.Looks like Mr. Personality is back.

But, of course, who would I be if not one to poke the bear?

“And that apartment hunt yesterday?” I ask, brows high, my crossbody purse and my backpack around my shoulders. “What was that? Anotherbusinessarrangement?”

Hudson slides his hands into his suit pants pockets, squaring his shoulders while looking down his nose at me.

Goddamn. I’ve never met a man who could look both powerful and relaxed at the same time. The touch of nonchalance in his otherwise arrogant and professional demeanor, the scent of his cologne, and the way his blue-grays focus on me has me itching to leap forward and bask in his attention and run in the other direction, all at the same time.

He’s your friend’s dad and your boss. Get a grip, woman!

“That was mypermanentadmin, Belinda, twisting my arm into making sure I helped you find something. Do you actually think I’d have the time to make those appointments or the interest in spending half my day running around town with you?”

Oh.

Well, that stings.

My chest burns, watching him turn on his heels and walk past the fogged glass wall separating his foyer from the rest of the house. I follow behind him, any positive feelings I’d gathered over the past two days turning to ash with each hesitant step.

Of course, he wouldn’t have had the time to do any of that yesterday. From what I can tell, the man barely does anything but work. I was delusional to think he’d actually want to spare his precious time with me, voluntarily, taking me apartment hunting.

---