Were they in danger too?
Or did he just want to throw them off his trail so he had more time to do… whatever it was he wanted to do with me?
Patrick had left the camping light, its stark whiteness making my dark-accustomed eyes hurt, but I forced them to stay open, to try to look around at my surroundings.
Just as I suspected, there was the dirt floor, the cinderblock walls, and several round load-bearing support poles holding up the house.
Turning, I inspected the thing I was attached to. Which was thinner than the support poles, and some of the screws holding it into the ceiling beams were rusted and wiggly.
If I didn’t blackout from the motion of yanking against it, there was a chance I could possibly make it fall.
Then I would just need to slide my cuff up to the top… and run.
Did running sound like it would be fun? No. But then again, neither did getting abused by Patrick.
I could do it.
I had to do it.
Gritting my teeth, I started yanking as hard as I could. Big, sweeping motions.
Each and every one of them had my ribs screaming.
Until, eventually, the pain made me blackout.
I came to on the floor with a face full of dirt. On my bad shoulder.
And the pole hadn’t budged at all.
I won’t lie, as I got back up to try again, my mind went to Jass. Went to being saved by him so I didn’t have to keep trying to save myself.
Was that weak of me?
Possibly.
But it sounded infinitely better than the alternative.
As the hours stretched on and on, though, it seemed less and less likely anyone was going to save me but myself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Judge
I walked down to find the remnants of the party that had moved from The Bog back to the clubhouse the night before.
Beer cans and red plastic cups were scattered over every flat surface.
Pizza boxes were in an askew stack on the top of the stove.
Delaney had been right.
It was complete crap.
But edible.
So we’d eaten it.
Bodies were just as scattered as beer cans.
Two women—a blonde and a redhead—were sharing a couch. Sway was on the floor beneath them, using a third woman as a blanket.
“Ten,” I said, pulling out my phone, and feeling my concern kick back in.
Because she hadn’t texted me back.
At one point, I’d even called her because I thought it was weird that she hadn’t answered me.
I tried to remind myself that it had been her first night back at work, that she was still there long after our party had headed out and back to the clubhouse.
She was probably fucking exhausted.