Page 99 of Captive Prize

“Me either,” Samara said.

“I won’t do anything. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to,” I admitted, feeling small.

“That’s what we figured.” Samara nodded as Nadia unlocked the handcuff. “If you tried something, you wouldn’t get very far.And you would make Roman’s life a lot harder. I like Roman. Don’t make this worse for him.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“You’re lucky,” Nadia added. “They almost didn’t get to you in time. If they were a few minutes later, or if that room wasn’t so cold…”

Her words trailed off, but I knew what she meant. I knew how close to death I was.

The women didn’t really talk. They focused on their task as they helped me strip out of the dirty clothes, the dried blood making the fabrics stick to my skin except where they’d been cut away to reach my bullet wound.

Samara was gentle with the washcloth, the water warm and fragrant, smelling of vanilla and brown sugar.

“Since you can’t have a shower, I added a little bit of body wash to the water, thinking it would help wash away the dirt and God only knows what else,” Nadia said.

“Thank you,” I said.

When I was about as clean as I was going to get without a showerhead or a tub, the girls helped me get dressed in a pair of warm and cozy sweatpants and the softest sweater I had ever worn.

“I’m sorry,” Nadia said, giving me a sad smile. “We have to put this back on, at least for now.”

She held up the handcuff. And I nodded, understanding.

There wasn’t a choice. Even if I had the strength to fight, I didn’t know what I was fighting for anymore. I was a prisoner. And until I got my strength back, or Roman came for me, I needed to behave.

“Where am I?” I asked, getting comfortable on the bed before offering my wrist for the cuff.

“You’re safe, that is all that matters,” Samara said, shaking her head.

Safe.

That word was so loaded and so meaningless at the same time.

Safe from what? Safe from whom?

Generally, someone who was safe wasn’t handcuffed to a bed. Someone who was safe wasn’t being held prisoner for God only knew what purpose.

Roman defending me from whomever he was talking to earlier didn’t change the fact that they didn’t want me here. What would they do to make me disappear?

I didn’t understand what Roman intended to do with me. Was I safe from him, or because of him?

There was no actual way for me to find out, not while chained to this bed.

The girls both gave me a soft smile as they left. One holding the bowl of now murky, rust-tinged water. And the other carrying my dirty clothes that were beyond salvation.

“Someone will be by to check on you. And probably feed you in a while,” Nadia said before she closed the door.

When they left, the silence stretched unbearably.

I couldn’t hear anyone talking, couldn’t pick up on any sounds of wildlife or cars or anything outside. There was absolute silence, not giving me any hint of where I might be.

With nothing better to do, I lay back against the pillows, exhaustion settling into my bones and begging me to sleep, to rest, to heal.

I closed my eyes and tried to give in to the darkness of sleep, but it didn’t come.

My body was begging for rest, but my mind was racing too fast. Not about where I was or plans to escape. I wasn’t even thinking about how to get my revenge on Mateo, or whatever was left ofLos Infideles.

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