Page 161 of Whispers and Wildfire

“Yes, it is.” I took my hysterics down to a whimper. “Why aren’t you different? Why aren’t you better than them?”

He was silent for a long moment. I stayed curled up in a ball, hoping I hadn’t pushed too hard. I didn’t want to make him angry, just confused and off-kilter.

I didn’t bother suppressing the shudder as he leaned close to my ear.

“You’re mine, Melanie,” he whispered. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Reaching over me, he grabbed my hands. I rolled onto my back so I could stretch my arms out. Oh my god, it was working. He had the pocketknife. He was going to cut the duct tape.

Something seemed to catch his attention. He paused, the knife still poised in one hand, and his gaze darted toward the stairs. I scarcely dared to breathe. Had he heard something?

Had someone found me?

Roswell’s eyes widened in alarm. He closed the knife and stuffed it back in his pocket, then grabbed the duct tape and tore a piece off.

“No,” I pleaded. “No, please—”

Before I could even think about how to resist, he’d taped my mouth shut again.

“Be quiet.” He wound more tape around my wrists and re-fastened me to the chain. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a faint noise upstairs that might have beenknocking. It was hard to tell. Roswell ran up and shut the basement door behind him. I had no idea if he’d locked it, but it wasn’t like it mattered. I couldn’t get free.

Please be help. Please be help.

Another noise sounded like voices, but after a second, I realized he’d turned on a TV or music or something. Probably to drown me out if I decided to yell. With my mouth taped shut, any semblance of a scream would have been too muffled to hear anyway. I just had to hope it was law enforcement, and they searched the place.

I couldn’t be certain, but I might have heard Roswell talking to someone. The noise was dull, and everything seemed to mingle together. My heart beat wildly in my chest and it took every ounce of my self-control not to completely lose it.

Breathe in. Out. In and out.

After what felt like an eternity—what was he doing up there?—the basement door opened. I looked, desperately hoping to see people in uniform descending to get me out of this mess.

My heart sank right through the floorboards and into the ground below. It was Roswell.

“We have to go,” he said on his way down the stairs. “The fire is getting close.”

The scent of smoke followed him. He crouched in front of me and ripped the tape off my face.

“I’m sorry, Melanie. I didn’t want to have to do that. But I can’t let them take you away from me.”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Firefighters. They’re evacuating the area.”

“But they don’t know I’m here, do they?” I tried to make it sound like I hoped they didn’t.

“No. They left, but we have to go.”

“Where are we going?”

He huffed out a frustrated breath as he cut me loose fromthe chain, leaving my wrists bound together. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t had a chance to make the proper arrangements. We were supposed to stay here until you were ready.”

Now. I had to get him to untie me now.

I met his eyes and lifted my arms, holding my wrists out to him. “It’ll be easier for us to get away.”

He hesitated, his gaze moving from my face to my bound wrists.