Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen

Saffron’s first thought when she came to was that the men had to stop knocking her out.

It had become a recurring theme ever since her first captivity—waking up and finding herself bound to one thing or the other in unknown places.

He could have just ordered her to return to the warehouse, and she would have obeyed, seeing as she never stood a chance at escape in the first place.

But no, he had to inject her with some unknown drug, and now she was left with cleansing it out of her system naturally.

Fuzziness clouded her brain, and she found herself slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to shake off whatever it was that Alaric had injected her with.

When she finally adjusted to having the drug out of her system, Saffron wished she had still been knocked out for a longer period.

Her head was thumping wildly, more than it had when she had woken up earlier. The pain no doubt from when she had fallen from the metal chair. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Days?

There was no way of telling.

Blinking away the haziness from the drug, she flicked her eyes to assess her new surroundings.

Unlike earlier when she had been in a sparse warehouse, this time around, she was in a tiny room, much tinier than her room back on the island.

Or, was she still on the island?

When she had gone out, there had been no body of water in sight, but the cool, damp quality of the air suggested that she might be in a place surrounded by water. Which could likely mean that she was still on the island, but farther away from the cabins.

There were no windows visible, but there was a cool draft of air inside the cell and the faint scent of mildew wafting into the cell through the metal bars of the door.

If she had to guess, she had now been taken underground.

What for?

She had no idea.

But if Alaric had not killed her instantly, after her failed attempt at an escape, then she had to guess that they wanted her alive.

‘At least for now,’ that dark voice whispered, but she ignored it in favor of rising to her feet and stretching the kinks in her body.

She was now alone at least, which was a blessing—if there ever was one to be found in this circle of hell that she had found herself in—as she needed time to think and also come up with a new escape plan because there was no doubt about it; she had to escape.

If Ivan and Alaric Vaughn were keeping her alive now, then there was something that they needed from her. And if they were to get whatever it was that they needed and her usefulness to them ended, then her life was going to end as well.

So for now, all she had to do was act dumb and pretend like she had no idea why they were keeping her in an underground cell until she could figure out a game plan, one that was foolproof and was unlikely to land her in trouble with them or get her killed earlier than planned.

For all intents and purposes, Saffron was not ready to die now, either naturally or because of a third-party influence. She still had unfulfilled dreams that needed to be fulfilled.

Perhaps the longer she stuck to her cover story, the more likely it would be for her to figure out an escape plan.

She knew that neither man was stupid enough to actually slip information about where she was held, but she was hedging on them being a little bit stupid and slip some info that could be of use to her.

It wasn’t the best of plans, but as of now, she had none, and it was the best that she could come up with.

One thing was for sure, though; she was never going to admit that she had been there at the cabin like they suspected, nor had she heard or seen anything out of the ordinary that particular day.

It was going to be tough, but she also knew it was the only means of survival that she had at the moment.

Her eyes flicked towards the camera set in the corner of the cell, which she hadn’t noticed when she had woken up.

They had been watching her, she assumed.

Angry voices from outside her cell made her freeze. Now that she was awake, they were here to either interrogate or torture her, or maybe both?

An involuntary shiver went up her spine when she heard the heavy stomps of boots heading towards her way.

She was still fuzzy from the drugs, and from the way the sound of the footfalls bounced off the walls and echoed through her cell, it was hard to tell whether it was the both of them coming to visit her or just one.

Saffron had no idea who she wanted to step into her cell at this moment, but if she had to choose, then she would say Ivan, even though he scared the shit out of her.

He was a safer bet than Alaric Vaughn, who looked like he would come undone just from the sounds or visuals of her pain.

The thought was unsettling and made her feel like ants were crawling up her skin, but that was how she felt when it came to the scarred giant.

A moment later, the sound of the footfalls quieted just as they reached the door of her cell.

She raised her head slowly, her eyes meeting those of another man, who was most definitely not Ivan or Alaric Vaughn.

He was young, way younger than both Alaric and Ivan. He seemed to be about her age, or maybe a year or two older.

Brows furrowed, she examined him from head to toe, just as he examined her.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to do whatever it was he had come down to do, neither did he seem hostile, but appearances could be deceiving. She learned that firsthand from her mystery guy.

Even though she relaxed a bit, she didn’t let her guard down entirely. No, she gazed at him with the same wariness she had regarded Alaric Vaughn with when she had first met him.

“Who are you?” she asked when he made no move to talk or enter into her cell.

“No one.” He shrugged, still looking at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m innocent,” she pleaded, ignoring his question. “Please help me get out of here.”

“Aren’t we all?” he asked nonchalantly.

When she gave him a blank look, he reiterated. “Innocent, that is.”

“Help me please,” she tried again, hoping to appeal to a sympathetic side of him, if it existed. “They’re going to kill me.”

Yes, he was a stranger, and she had no idea what his endgame was, but she had to at least try to make an ally here.

“Well then, pray for a quicker death.”

With those words delivered in a dismissive tone, her visitor turned and walked back the way he had come from, leaving her alone in a dank and empty cell.