3. Ash

Chapter Three

ASH

“ Y ou psychopath.”

“That’s a little harsh.” Lamb shrugged, taking a long draw from his coffee cup. He leaned back into the wall, one leg stretched forwards, the other ankle propped against the skirting. I could make out his form against the blurry seams of my vision, but not his expression. Though, I would not be surprised to see a false innocence masking his face. I might be borderline blind, but I was no fool. Not to this man.

“You kidnapped me, and now you are standing there, drinking coffee,” I hissed, trying to be gentle as I fought a losing battle against a building headache. “I doubt I am the harsh one.”

When I had woken up on a soft bed to a white ceiling above my head, I had feared the worst. Whether or not it was fortunate that I was not in a hospital was yet to be decided. Fortunately, being crushed by a man three times my weight had only left me with colourful bruises blooming over my arm and shoulder, and no broken bones, not even a sprain.

“Kidnap is a strong word.”

“I will have a strong case.” I gestured to the row of metal bars installed across one side of my cell.

The room was plentiful, nicely decorated with floral sheets on a wide double bed, and even an en-suite bathroom attached to one side. A couple of fake plants were placed around in ornate pots, some smaller ones clustered on the side table in the corner. It added to the white cushioned chair and tall overhanging lamp in the corner. A couple of books were stacked to one side. It was as if he had plucked a page straight out of an IKEA catalogue and slapped it behind a row of bars.

There were no windows; only curtains hung on either side of my iron bars. I was, presumably, in a basement.

“It’s for your safety.” Lamb swirled the cup, pretending to be transfixed on the motion. I knew better than to believe it. “I can’t have you jumping in front of every knife, gun, and train every chance you get.”

“I think six bullets was enough for a lifetime, thank you.”

Six bullets that my father had buried into my arm, shoulder, leg, calf, stomach, and chest. In that order. The wounds had long since healed over, but they ached under the surface, the ghost of their trauma clinging to me even years later.

“Good, because based on life expectancy, we have at least another fifty years together, and I can’t be spending that in and out of a hospital.”

I paused. I stared at the blond-haired man. He oozed confidence and control. He wore a dressed-down tee and thick, pristine jeans that hugged his slim and sturdy build. Lamb’s looks were unassuming for a biker; he neither had the rough, rugged look, nor the dirty, wild clothes and attitude. Lamb was put together. Ready for a day at the office, not riding motorcycles with a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

“I was wrong,” I admitted. “You’re not a psychopath.”

Lamb looked up, subtle surprise raising his brows.

“You are an absolute lunatic.”

The brows fell back down, a soft sigh slipping from his lips. “This lunatic saved your life,” Lamb responded. “You haven’t said thank you yet.”

I stared at my warped reflection in the bars, a face I barely recognised staring back.

I could hear the gunshots in the distant recesses of my mind. I’d long since learnt they weren’t there, but the aches they brought with them, the throbbing across my chest, and the ghostly cold that touched me clung to my reality.

“I am not,” I groaned, resting my head against the cool metal bars. “Thankful, that is.”

Lamb stood from the wall, taking slow steps to approach my cage. I couldn’t look at him. I counted the steps until silence followed. He said nothing, and I stared at his shiny black boots.

“Why am I here?” The words slipped out to fill the silence. “I have caused enough trouble. You should hate me … Maybe you already do.”

I waited for a reply, but one did not come. No footsteps filled the air, and I could feel him watching. It was neither warm nor cold, but the pressure was strong and intense, like an autumn breeze pushing against me.

A chime cut through the air, and the pressure was gone. I saw Lamb pulling his phone from his back pocket, eyes scouring the screen briefly before tucking it back in place. “I have to go.”

“Wait.” I jerked from the bed, the floor melting under my feet as a dizzying wave took hold. My hands latched onto the bedframe, holding me steady. “You are just going to leave me here?”

Lamb’s lips turned into a frown as he scanned the room. “Yes.”

“You cannot!”

“Why not?” Lamb shrugged as if there was not anything wrong with this situation. “You called it kidnapping before.” A blatant smirk pulled at his lips. “Consider yourself kidnapped.”

And then he left.

The door outside my cage swung open, obscuring himself from view as he disappeared beyond it, leaving the resounding click of the lock echoing off the walls.

“You have got to be kidding.”

I waited, staring long at the door, as if it might magically reopen and Lamb had not locked me up inside his personal dungeon only to leave me alone. “Is he really that stupid?”

I scoffed, my body dropping like a sack onto the chair, staring glumly at the white canvas wall.

Lamb, a man who I did not understand. I would never understand him. And never would I want to.

Not even if he had saved my life. Not even if it was not the first time.

My hands clenched over the soft folds of my clothing, the memories of that day sweeping back. No matter how much I tried to eradicate them or pretend that trauma or blood loss would have deleted those memories, I could not escape them.

The cold came first, the wetness of blood pooling beneath my back and sides. TV static ran up and down my body, and a weighted blanket pinned me down. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. Buzzing voices and the shrill ring of the gunshots deafened my ears.

There was one voice that was crystal clear. As I stared up at the world fading away, my heartbeat slowing and my mind mourning a life of pain, torment, and misery, I heard him. Lamb. His single word reached deeper than any bullet, that cursed and ruined my single wish. The word that made me hate him forever.

Live.