“Have a good evening, baby,” Kyan called and I turned my head to see them walking towards the door. Saint smirked like the cat who got the cream, staring at me with undeniable thirst before he stepped outside.
“Fuck you!” I screamed after them as the door slammed and the lock clicked.
I lay panting, totally restrained, unable to believe they’d done this to me. Although I didn’t know why I was surprised. They were the Night Keepers after all.
I tugged at my binds again, but they wouldn’t give. Saint was probably the king of the knots. He wouldn’t have left any weakness in my binds. So I had to find a way to sever them.
I lifted my head, blowing a lock of hair from my face as I hunted for anything around me that could help. My gaze hooked on the washing up drying in the rack in the kitchenette and the sharp knife amongst it I’d used to chop vegetables.
I clenched my jaw, determination filling me as I rolled myself over and dropped off of the coffee table onto my side. I winced as I crushed my arm and rocked my hips so I fell onto my stomach again. It wasn’t easy, or fast, or fucking dignified but I managed to move along inch by inch using my thighs and shoulders, rocking from side to side and making my way around the couch and in the direction of the kitchen.
“You’re dead Saint Memphis,” I wheezed, my boobs crushed as I continued along the carpet like some sort of demented snake. “You and your little asshole of a bodyguard Kyan and your cowardly dog Blake. Dead. Dead. Dead.”
It was a long and humiliating path toward the kitchenette and I made a noise like a dying T-Rex with every awkward rock of my body, forcing too much pressure down on my chest as I went. My knees were chafing against the carpet and my dress had ridden up over my hips so my ass was now bare just to make sure I was absolutely scarred for life by this experience.
At least those bastards aren’t here to see this. But please tell me there are no secret cameras in this place.
I finally made it onto the flagstone floor of the kitchenette and found I could glide across them with the grace of a slug as I made my journey towards the sink. Finally, I gazed up at the knife in the rack above my head and started straining and writhing on the ground as I tried to figure out a way to reach it. But there was just no damn way.
I growled in frustration, my shoulders beginning to ache as they were pulled back in their sockets. I rolled onto my side, gripping the nearest cupboard door handle between my teeth and pulling it open, rolling back to get out of the way as it swung wide. I had to use my head like a goddamn walrus to shove stuff aside and look through it, but it was worth it because there amongst all the cleaning products was a pair of scissors.
My heart soared and I shuffled as far forward as I could, taking them between my teeth before moving back again and dropping them on the ground. I managed to get them open with my mouth then rolled over, taking them into my hand and pressing one of the sharp edges against the rope.
I gritted my teeth as I strained to cut through it, the motion painful as I bent my fingers at an awkward angle. I dropped them three times before I managed to cut them and one of my binds snapped. I gasped as I got a hand free, wriggling around and using the scissors to sever the rest.
“Yes!” I cried to no one but myself, getting up and smiling from ear to ear.
I glanced at the clock. It had taken me close to an hour, but I’d done it. I was free. And now Saint was going to pay.
I ran up into his room with fury making me hot and wild. I needed vengeance like I needed to breathe. I was so done with his shit. His cruel fucking shit. I wanted to hurt him. Drive a knife into his chest and twist it until he begged me to stop.
But what did he even care about? What could I take from him?
I gazed around the room until my eyes fell on his record collection, my heart thundering at the sight. Yes.
I strode into his closet, grabbing a sports bag and marching over to the records, stuffing all of them in until it was bursting. Then I marched downstairs, slinging it over my shoulder and heading to the kitchen, grabbing a box of matches and some lighter fluid.
You burn my letters, I burn your records.
I stuffed my phone into the bag too and headed to the door, kicking on some sneakers and leaving my coat. I wasn’t going to be cold outside for long. I was about to warm myself by a nice toastie fire.
I stood in the locker room showers with Blake on one side of me and Kyan on the other as I scrubbed mud from my skin and relished the exhaustion in my muscles. That was what I loved most about football. The way it wrung every bit of energy from my body and left me with an ache of fatigue hanging in my limbs. I always slept better after practice. Even my gym workouts couldn’t compare. Though I’d still do one later to round off the day.
“Is it weird that I like it when we all shower together like this?” Blake joked and I cracked an eye to glance at him through the water cascading over my face. “Just three dudes,
