Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I wait. Patience is harder than panic, but I force myself anyway.
Finally, the others drift away, one by one. The more senior men head off to smoke or to argue about supplies. The younger one with the thin voice vanishes down the hall. Eventually, the big one ends up alone with me.
I size him up. He’s dangerous in his own way, but I remind myself he’s simple, too. He’s used to taking orders, used to obeying, and maybe used to being ignored. That makes him vulnerable, not just to fists or knives, but to words.
I keep my tone as casual as possible, considering my circumstances. “When are they going to make you in charge around here, huh?”
His head jerks toward me, eyes narrowing in suspicion. For a second I think I have pushed too hard, too fast, that he’ll shut me down before I can even begin. But he doesn’t bark at me to shut up. He doesn’t threaten me. He just looks away, his mouth twisting like he isn’t sure what to say. That’s enough. That hesitation tells me there’s a crack in his armor.
I tilt my head, letting my voice soften, weaving in a hint of admiration. “It seems to me that you could run things a bit better than these other guys. That’s all.”
That gets him. His shoulders straighten. His gaze flickers back to me, curious now, even as he tries to hide it. I feel the smallest pulse of hope as I watch his defenses shift. He wants to believe me. He wants to hear more. So I keep going.
“You’re reliable, aren’t you? Every time something needs to get done, they send you. You’re the one hauling, moving, watching. If it weren’t for you, this whole place would probably fall apart.”
He grunts, a sound that isn’t quite agreement but isn’t denial either. I lean forward as much as the straps allow, keeping my voice steady and low, as if I’m sharing a secret meant just for him.
“Men like you should be the ones calling the shots. The others bark orders because they’re afraid. You don’t need to do that. You have real strength. The kind of strength that people should follow without question.”
His eyes linger on me longer this time. I can see him mulling it over, chewing on the words like they’re sweeter than anything he’s been fed in years.
That’s my opening. I can’t push too hard or too fast, or he’ll retreat back into silence. I need to give him just enough to keep thinking, keep doubting the way things are.
After a few moments of heavy silence, I continue.
“Tell me,” I say, tilting my head slightly, letting curiosity color my words, “when they finally put you in charge, what’s the first thing you’ll do differently?”
He doesn’t answer right away, but I don’t rush him. I just keep my gaze steady, pretending I’m more interested in his answer than in the door behind him. He shifts his weight, scratches the side of his jaw.
“I’d sure as hell teach these assholes about respect,” he finally grumbles.
I nod slowly, like it’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard. “Exactly. That’s what leaders do. They make people respect them. They set the rules instead of following them.”
For the first time since I’ve been dragged into this nightmare, the heavy knot of fear in my stomach loosens just a fraction. Because he’s listening. Because I’ve found a thread, and if I can keep tugging, maybe, just maybe, I can weave it into a way out.
I shift my tone slightly, gentle and almost conspiratorial. “You know, I don’t think they appreciate you the way they should. But I see it. I can tell you’re different. Smarter. Stronger. They’d be lost without you.”
His chest rises and falls in a sharp breath, like he’s been waiting to hear these exact words for years.
I keep my face calm, but inside, my thoughts race. If I play this right, I can talk him into loosening the straps, maybe even taking me outside for fresh air. Maybe I can convince him that a real leader doesn’t need to keep a woman tied up like a package. Hope flickers inside me, fragile but alive, and I know this is my chance.
Then the first crack of gunfire tears through the quiet. Terror swells and knocks the breath from my lungs. Is it Damien coming to rescue me, or something else?
The big man hears it too. His head snaps toward the corridor, and his hand goes to the pistol on his belt. I see the moment he decides I’m now a problem he can fix fast. My words die between us without any chance to flower into anything useful. He grips the back of my chair and drags me so fast the legs screech against the floor. Then he undoes the straps and yanks me to my feet. My elbow aches with the force of his grip. He shoves me toward a narrow door with flaking paint, twists the knob, and throws it open with a rough jerk.