The cuff clicks shut around my wrist.
My whole body goes rigid. For a second, I’m not in this cabin; I’m back in a cell. The stench of mold and piss. The darkness. The sound of a lock turning and knowing nobody is coming to open it.
I yank so hard the chain snaps taut, and pain shoots up my arm. “Take it off. Take it off right now.”
My voice doesn’t sound like mine. Too high. Too thin.
Darius looks at me, and something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can name it. “It stays,” he says. “For now. This is for your own good, Blue.”
Elias catches my eye from the doorway. He doesn’t say anything else, but his expression is tight, jaw working. He doesn’t like this. Good. At least one of them has a conscience, even if it’s useless.
The room itself is beautiful, which makes it worse. A double bed with what looks like soft sheets and a quilt so thick and plush I want to crawl inside it and never come out. The roomitself is simple with no clutter, but the warm woodsy colour palette makes it feel sorta cozy. Against the east wall is a large curtained window I won’t be able to reach thanks to this chain, and next to the bed is an en-suite bathroom with an actual door.
How considerate.
I yank against the cuff again, testing the slack. The chain gives me just enough to reach the bed and the bathroom. Enough to survive. Not enough to escape.
“You can wash up,” Darius says. “And put those clothes in the trash. We’ll give you something clean of ours to wear until we can find something that fits.”
They exit without another word, but the bedroom door stays wide open. My chain isn’t long enough to close it. The bathroom at least has its own door, but I’m chained like an animal, fury burning white-hot inside me.
But the bathroom is right there.
Hot water.
Soap.
“It better be lavender, vanilla, or some fruity shit,” I yell. No way in hell I’m washing with their stuff. I don’t want to smell like alpha turd.
I can’t remember the last time I had a proper shower. Tugging the chain taut, I step into the bathroom and catch my reflection in the mirror.
Fuck. I look feral.
Matted hair falls past my waist. Dirt smudges my face, and my expression is fierce and untamed. I look older than twenty-one. I resemble my sister, but where Sophie’s eyes were kind, mine are cold.
I move back to the bedroom. “Hey, assholes! Can one of you fuckers get in here?”
Elias appears in the doorway. “What?”
I point to my tangled mane. “Cut it off. Up to here.” I hold my hand in the middle of my back.
His brows raise, but he goes and grabs a pair of scissors from the kitchen and returns. He grips a lock of my hair and hacks through it, matted brown locks falling to the floor.
“There,” he says after placing the scissors beyond my reach. “Looks good.”
I don’t answer. I stomp back to the bathroom and slam the door in his face. But it bounces back open because my chain doesn’t allow it to close all the way. His face reappears, grinning wider.
I snap.
I make a run for him and jump, my legs wrapping around his waist. He’s so surprised that his hands go straight to my ass, holding me up. He doesn’t even notice I’m wrapping the chain around his neck until it’s too late.
His eyes bulge as I squeeze with everything I’ve got.
“Take that, motherfucker,” I hiss.
Just a little longer and he’ll pass out. I’ll grab the keys and run. I won’t get that shower, but priorities.
I squeeze harder, and to my satisfaction, he starts turning red.