Page 31 of Between Control and Chaos
I roll over on the hard floor and vomit on the cement.
My vision is foggy, my memories slowly coming back, waging war on my mind.
I’ve been drugged.
The ground is cold, the room dimly lit save for the light seeping in through the dirty windows above. The place looks like a warehouse of sorts, the ceiling tall, the structure wide.
Around my neck is a collar, thick but not overly heavy, and my fingers reach around the smooth contraption, trying to find a clasp. There’s no way to unbuckle or unlock the device attached to me.
Shit.
There are metal shackles on my ankles that give me several feet of movement. The chains are embedded into the cement with rusty bolts, and my fingers diligently work to loosen them, but they don’t budge.
I curse under my breath. “Hello?” I shout, my throat raw, but the sound echoes throughout the large expanse and a shiver tingles along my spine.
Where am I?
My phone has long since been abandoned. I don’t know when I lost the call with Luca. But when my phone buzzed and my mother called, Nico pulled the vehicle over, dug the phone out from under the seat, and blasted her for calling.
How dare she ask for me?
Inwardly, I laugh and wipe away the stray tear that slides down my cheek.
Why did she have to reach out to me today?
Or perhaps it was yesterday.
The sun is out now, and she had called when it was late, night time. I hadn’t spoken with her in months and now she calls me, for what reason?
Certainly not fate.
Her phone call led to Nico shoving a bottle of who the hell knows what down my throat. The orange liquid in his water bottle evidently something sinister.
It couldn’t just be “flavor enhancer”.
No. Nico drugged me.
Within seconds of being forced to swallow that concoction, I was out cold.
Metal groans as sunlight pours into the warehouse, and I wince, trying to see who is stalking toward me.
She’s no one I recognize.
“Where’s Nico?” I ask, not that I want him coming for me, but at least I know the devil I’m dealing with.
Long, dark hair frames soulless eyes glancing me up and down as she saunters closer, “Would you rather deal with him?”
Wordlessly, I shake my head.
“I didn’t think so, Harper.”
She knows my name. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I grimace at the way she says it, with such callousness and conviction. She hates me, and I’m not even sure what I did to piss her off.
My hands reach for the collar, tugging, but it doesn’t budge on its own. “Take this thing off of me!” I demand, glaring up at her.
A dark smile crosses her face. “I think it looks rather good on you,” she says with a wry smile, and my stomach churns.
“Who are you?”
