Though it feels like hell to be walking out of there willingly with him, he's the monster I at least have an idea about. He's the one who is going to put me through hell, but he's not going to hurt me more than he needs to.
Even if one day, he's going to need to kill me.
Noah opensthe door to a bedroom on the third floor.
"This isn't my room."
"I know." He gives me a gentle nudge inside. "Get some rest. There are going to be long days ahead of us."
He shuts the door and turns the lock, leaving me trapped. Still, I go to the door and try the handle, hoping by some miracle that whatever lock he has on the outside of the room is going to let go, and I can leave.
It doesn't, though. The handle barely budges.
I'm a prisoner again, but at least I'm not Robert's prisoner. I'm not at the home of a man who was going to let everyone who works for him have a go with me, who was going to treat me asnothing more than a communal sex doll and throw me in the trash when he was done with me.
Glancing around the room, I take in the dark woods and the forest green duvet. Thick chocolate brown curtains hang over wide windows, overlooking the sprawling yard and gardens out back.
For a moment, I do nothing but stand at the window, looking down at the world below. There are some men in the yard with guns, marching around. Some of them smoke, while others say something to the men they pass, laughing before carrying on with their jobs.
I turn my back to them all, wiggling my toes in the plush area rug that covers some of the dark hardwood floors. It would almost be a cozy room if not for the man living in it.
And I know it's his room because of the smell that lingers. His cologne covers every inch of the room. It sinks into the fabrics.
Even if the cologne didn't make the entire room smell like Noah, it fits the personality he exudes: dark, moody, going to kill me.
With that small reminder creeping through the back of my mind, I start to look for anything I might be able to use as a weapon. I don't know why he put me in this room instead of one of the others, but I'm hoping it means he was unprepared.
What I'm really hoping it means is that I'm going to find a gun he forgot to have removed before tossing me in here.
I go into the ensuite, wondering if I should leave some blood on the glossy white surfaces just to piss him off. It takes a couple of minutes to clean up my leg.
As soon as I'm done, I start opening drawers and cupboards, feeling around the wood and looking for any hidden doors. And then, there in the back of a cupboard beneath a bookshelf, there's a small groove.
It's so smooth that I almost don't feel it. If it weren't for my fingernail catching on the lip, I would've missed it entirely.
I press along the little indent until there is a soft click.
A little door in the back slides open. There's a small cabinet back there.
I reach in, my fingers brushing against cool metal.
My breath hitches in my throat as I pull out the gun.
I check the magazine, and sure enough, it's loaded. With a rush of hope flooding through me, I load the gun again, taking it to the bed and hiding it beneath the pillow. I cross the room to the bookshelf again and pick a book before flopping down, head on the pillow.
All I can do now is wait.
\\\*
The sun is just startingto rise when the lock turns, and the door opens.
I put the book to the side, my eyes feeling like they're on fire. I've stayed up all through the night, waiting for this moment.
As the door eases open, I slip my hand beneath the pillow, wrapping it around the gun.
Noah steps into the room, and I stand, flicking off the safety and aiming the gun at his head.
His eyes widen, a slow smile creeping across his face that leaves me on edge. "And what do you think you're going to do with that?"