Page 100 of Frozen Hearts
“What?” Bertram barks. “That is absurd.”
“Nonetheless, Sir, we need you to come with us so we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Dad?” Grayson tries again, taking a step toward his father.
“It’s nothing, son. A misunderstanding. Call the lawyers.”
Grayson drops my arm, nodding along with his dad’s instructions. However, all I can do is watch on as Bertram’s incensed glare shifts to me, and the promise of retribution shakes me to my core.
Grabbing his coat and looking like he is heading to the office rather than the police station, Bertram’s dress shoes clip against the hard floor as he strides out of the house without a backward glance.
The door snicks shut behind him, enveloping Grayson and me in a weighted silence. One that extends until infinity before his shoulders drop on a haggard exhale. Running his fingers through his overgrown, dark hair, he turns to look at me with a pained expression.
His eyes scour my face in that penetrating way of his, and I’m convinced he already knows it’s me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper brokenly before racing up the stairs and hiding behind my locked door.
His father was arrested a few days later, although not for the initial charges against him. Grayson kicked my mother and me out of the house that same night, and I never saw him again… until tonight.
It’s obvious Grayson is harboring a lot of resentment toward me for the part I played in his father’s arrest. He wants me to pay, and based on the lengths he’s gone to and the fact I’m chained to a stripper pole, I can guess his payment method.
I feel my insides rearranging themselves, hardening into a concrete mass. There’s no way out of this other than to bide my time and wait. In the meantime, I’ll have to play by their rules. Grayson may think I have something to repent for, but the fact remains I’ve done nothing wrong.
And he might believe this little stunt of his will break me, but I’m stronger than he could possibly know. Moreso, I have someone worth fighting to get back to. So I will suffer and endure, and when they’re done playing their games, I’ll emerge from the ashes and show them all that fire doesn’t burn me; it only makes me stronger.
26
RILEY
Iget a fitful night’s rest on the cold, hard ground. It doesn’t help that the glitter I didn’t get to shower off yesterday has irritated my skin, causing me to scratch incessantly at it all night. I give up on sleep entirely when the dull gray of morning begins to creep around the edges of the heavy curtains. It offers a dim view of what appears to be a living room. A sofa and chairs have been rearranged to fit around the stripper pole I’m currently attached to, which stands proudly in the center of the room and is brand-spanking new from the looks of it.
How sweet of them to go out of their way to accommodate me.
I roll my eyes at the idiocy of it all.
In the harsh light of day, I should probably be feeling more fearful of my situation. And don’t get me wrong, anxiety is absolutely one of the emotions pounding through my veins, but it’s not as potent as it was when I first came to last night.
Something about knowing Grayson is the one behind this, and not some creepy psycho stalker, has eased the worst of my fear. Grayson wouldn’t go so far as to irreparably break me, right? We were siblings once, even if only for a short time. Perhaps he can even be reasoned with. I never had the opportunity to explain to him properly, and I have no idea what lies his father will have spread. Perhaps I can make him see my point of view. Somehow, prove to him that I’m the one telling the truth.
I hear a shower running somewhere in the house, and a short while later, the floorboards outside my room creak as someone walks past. The sound of life in the house is shortly followed by the smell of bacon permeating the air, making my stomach growl as it reminds me it’s been too long since I last ate. I refuse to call out or ask for anything from these assholes though, even if my stomach protests at the idea of not getting any of the delicious-smelling bacon.
More footsteps pass the closed door, followed by muffled voices coming from the room beneath mine. At the clattering of plates and cutlery, I assume the kitchen is directly below me, and the guys are currently tucking into their nice warm breakfast, not giving a shit about the hungry girl chained up in their living room.
I’m not sure how much later it is when the door creaks open, and I lift my head, finding Logan standing in the doorway, watching me with a curious yet indifferent expression. He looks exactly like he always does, casual in his jeans and white t-shirt, feet bare, and blond hair mussed up. In comparison, I probably look like a haggard mess.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I blurt out flatly, meeting his gaze with an unflinching one of my own.
He doesn’t react, acting as if I never spoke. Looking at me like he’s never seen me before. It’s more cutting than I’ll ever admit.
“Logan.” His name is snapped off the end of my tongue, and my sharp tone breaks him out of his trance. In the time it takes to blink, his features harden, and a wall slams over his face until I’m faced with ice-rink Logan.
“What?” That one word is a harsh bark, reminding me the Logan standing before me is not the one I’d come to know over the last few months.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
He huffs like I’m being a huge inconvenience. Well, my bad. Maybe if they didn’t fucking kidnap and chain me to a pole, I wouldn’t have toaskhim to let me use the toilet.
He closes the distance between us, digging a small key out of his pocket. He pauses before inserting it into the handcuffs. “Don’t try anything stupid.” I roll my eyes. Does he seriously think the second he takes the cuffs off me, I’m going to make a mad run for it? Grayson already delivered his threats of what would happen if I pulled anything. I don’t need a repeat from Logan.
