Page 18 of Freed By Wrath

His breathing reaches me next.

Slow and even. Not the breathing of someone excited by this. Not nervous either. Just… calm and… tired?

What the fuck do they even want?

I should be terrified.

I should be crying.

I should be begging him to let me go.

Instead… I’m strangely impatient to find out where they’re taking me.

The elevator slows, and after a soft chime, the doors slide open.

I’m guided forward, one hand never leaving my wrist. Then, after a few steps, I hear a key turning, more steps, and then a door closing behind us.

The floor changes, elevator tile giving way to hardwood, then a rug, thick and soft. The air shifts with it. Warmer here, and layered—woodsmoke, wax, the particular ghost of candles that burned out hours ago. Clove, maybe. Pumpkins. The smells that mean someone actually celebrates Halloween instead of performing it.

Serena’s house smelled like a concept. This smells like a home.

Somewhere nearby, a clock ticks.

We’re here, I think.

But it’s not the feeling of the space that surprises me the most. It’s the way he’s acting. Careful. Afraid. Like… he fears hurting me.

He eases me down onto something soft before letting go of my wrists long enough for cold metal to snap around one of them.

A handcuff.

I blink beneath the fabric. Seems like they’re shitty kidnappers. They’re not even tying me to a chair.

What the hell is wrong with you? The voice inside my head sounds suspiciously like my own.

I decide to blame the adrenaline rush of this whole mess.

“So, Val,” he says in a deep voice, calm enough to make me irrationally angry. “Where do you want me to take you?”

My entire body goes still.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things.”

That… is somehow the least comforting answer he could’ve given.

“What do you want?” He sighs, but it’s not dramatic. He seems… tired.

“Honestly?” he says. “I’d like to go to sleep. This whole night has been a complete disaster, and it’s been a very long day. Unfortunately, sleeping while there’s a hostage in my apartment doesn’t seem like the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”

So we are in an apartment after all. I save that information for later. “So I’d like to know where you want me to take you.” He finishes.

I stare blindly through the fabric covering my face. “Are you insane?”

“Debatable.”

“Your friend kidnapped me. And now you’re asking how I’d like my kidnapping to end?”