Page 125 of Hide And Seek

“And where exactly am I sleeping?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Same place as me. The bed.”

I stared at him. “And you expect me to just lie there quietly all night?”

“No,” he said. “I expect you to wait until you think I'm asleep and then try to sneak out. Which is exactly what I'd do in your position.” He straightened and looked at me with something that wasn't quite a smile. “That’s why we're going to make a small adjustment to the sleeping arrangement.”

I didn't like the sound of that at all. “What kind of adjustment?”

He dropped the clothes and moved to the small chest of drawers near the window, pulling it open and rummaging briefly before producing two lengths of rope. Climbing cord, maybe.

“Lie back,” he said.

“No.”

“Alissa.” He said it the way you'd say the name of someone who was about to make a very avoidable mistake. “Lie back. Now.”

With a defeated sigh, I lay back.

He was efficient about it, looping the cord around one wrist and tying it to the headboard with a knot I couldn't see well enough to memorize. Then he moved to the other side without any particular ceremony. He secured my other wrist, followed by my ankles, tying them to the left-hand post at the foot of the bed.

I was about to bite out a sarcastic comment when he shoved a strip of cloth in my mouth. He tied it behind my head with the same matter-of-fact efficiency as everything else, and then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“I'll be back in a while,” he said, voice laced with a hint of amusement. “Don't go anywhere.”

He stepped into the bathroom again, and I heard water running as he set about washing our clothes. I stared at the ceiling and tested the knots again. The cord had just enough give that I could feel the possibility of freedom without getting anywhere near it.

I made a sound of pure frustration into the gag while the man responsible for my captivity hummed very faintly to himself over the sound of running water in the next room.

Around twenty minutes later, his footsteps crossed the floor, and then the mattress dipped as he lay down beside me. For a moment he was still. Then his arm came over me, heavy and warm, settling across my waist like it belonged there. Like this was a normal thing. Like I wasn’t currently bound to a bed frame in the middle of a murder camp with a gag in my mouth.

He exhaled slowly, and within minutes, his breathing had evened out into something deep and steady.

I lay rigid beneath his arm, heart pounding, terrified and angry and humiliated in equal measure, with no outlet for any of it. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything except lie here and feel the weight of Rhys pressed against me while he slept without any apparent difficulty or moral complication.

I was utterly helpless. Utterly silenced. And utterly furious.

Earlier tonight, he'd told me he wasn't going to kill me. But if I ever managed to get out of this… I was damn well going to kill him.

25

“Alissa.”

I opened my eyes. The room was still dark, and the clock on the small bedside table read 4:47.

Rhys was already up, fully dressed, and crouched at eye level beside the bed. At some point while I slept, he’d untied me. The gag was gone too. I hadn't felt any of it.

“Up,” he said quietly. “Eat first, then get changed.”

He moved to the small table near the window where he’d laid everything out. A sandwich, cut in half. A cinnamon rice pudding cup with a plastic spoon already tucked into the lid. A container of sliced fruit. A full bottle of water. My clothes, folded in a neat stack beside it all.

I sat up slowly, taking stock of my body. My knee throbbed where I’d hit something in the woods. My right thigh stung from the small cuts Rhys had made. My palms were scraped. Beyond that, I was intact.

“Can I use the bathroom?” I asked, voice rough with sleep.

Rhys nodded and stepped back to give me room.

The bathroom door didn't close all the way. He made that clear without saying anything; just held it at the frame as I reached for the handle, letting it rest an inch or two open.