Page 97 of Frozen Hearts
“I don’t—what do you mean?”
He leans toward me, and I press back, heart thumping erratically as I try to maintain some distance between us, but I very much feel like a cornered animal right now.
“Why do you act like this goody-two-shoes when we both know you’re anything but?”
My fight or flight instincts are on full alert, telling me to get out of the car, but when he reaches out and winds a lock of my hair around his finger, the tormented, damaged part of myself that I’ve spent the last four years pretending doesn’t exist finally raises her head. Using my eyes as windows, she peers out at him, taking a visceral interest in the threat in front of her, while at the same time in my head I hearmine.
My rational brain is shouting for me to run, but the mutilated, tortured fragments of my soul are screaming forhim.
I instinctively lean into his touch, my lips parting as my tongue flicks out. His eyes widen in surprise as he zeros in on my mouth, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. Time stands still, and my heart hammers against my chest as I wait to see what will happen next.
His gaze catches on something over my shoulder, and I turn in my seat to see what it is, but with his finger still holding my hair hostage, he tugs on the strand, snapping my attention back to him as a cloth is pressed firmly over my nose and mouth.
My eyes bug out of my head and my fingers claw at Logan’s hand, a sweet smell filling my nostrils. My efforts are futile though, and I stare helplessly into his conflicted eyes as I silently implore him not to do this.
Tears leak out of the corner of my eyes as my vision blurs, and with every passing second, my body grows weaker. I blink furiously, trying to focus on Logan’s face. A face I once found so handsome, is now twisted and haunting as he watches me with a cold ambivalence.
The brief thought flitters through my mind,who is this guy?Because evidently, the Logan I thought I knew never existed.
* * *
My mouth is dry, and there’s a dull thudding at the back of my head as I groggily open my eyes. Feeling the hard ground beneath me, memories rush back, and I jolt upright, immediately regretting that decision when my stomach churns precariously.
Fear consumes me and I shiver. It only gets worse when I register the cool metal around my wrists and, squinting in the dark room, I can just make out my hands cuffed to some sort of pole.What the…
I can taste vomit at the back of my throat and the chain of the cuffs rattles against the metal pole as my hands tremble. Shifting on my ass, I squint around the dark room, making out the outline of sofas—some sort of living room, I’d guess.
With a stripper pole in it.
No normal person has a stripper pole in their living room.I mean, bedroom,maybe, if that’s their kink, but not their fucking living room.
I stand on unsteady legs, thankful that I’m at least still wearing the jeans and t-shirt I left the club in earlier, although my coat and shoes have disappeared, and the glitter I should have washed off hours ago is beginning to itch. Turning my attention to the pole, I give it a good shake, desperately hoping it will come loose. I need to get the fuck out of here before Logan, or whoever lives here, comes back.
It rattles loudly against the bolts, but that’s all.
“It’s not going to give.”
At the sound of the low, menacing tone, I squeal, half jumping out of my skin as I quickly move to place the useless metal strip between us and squint in the direction of the voice.
This time, I see what I missed before—the faint outline of three bodies sitting on a couch at the back of the room.
I lick my lips nervously. “Wh-Who are you? What do you want?”
The three shadows rise in unison, faces hidden by the darkness. Without answering my question or saying anything at all, they cross the room toward me. My unease builds as their heavy footsteps echo around the room, intensifying until my heart threatens to leap from my chest, screaming at me to move. To run.
Except there's nowhere to go. Nowhere for me to hide.
Their dark silhouettes come into focus as they draw near, my mouth drying as my palms sweat. Terrified, I step back as far as my shackles will allow, until my arms are outstretched in front of me, the metal digging sharply into my wrists.
My gaze swivels between the three shadows, each more prominent and more ominous looking than the last, as they move to surround me. One on my left, one on my right, and most petrifying, one at my back.
I hardly dare to breathe.
Silence consumes the darkness as the three of them press in around me, and I let out a whimper when the warm air of one of their breaths hits my cheek.
My breaths are ragged pants, my head dizzy from the lack of oxygen as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I have survived worse.
