55. Hunter

Chapter 55

Hunter

now

I stir, but I can't force my eyes open. The pull of exhaustion is too great. It feels like I took a sleeping pill but didn't sleep long enough for it to work its way out of my system.

A yawn fights to escape me, but it's like my body doesn't remember how. I can't recall the motions my mouth is supposed to make. How to open wide. How to exhale.

I had the weirdest dream, too.

Spence and Greedy talking—speaking kindly to each other, even. That's how I knew I was dreaming. Then I was being laid in the softest bed, kissed on the head, and tucked in just how I like. It was lovely.

Moments later, though, the dream turned nightmarish.

I woke with a start and was immediately shushed and soothed. Then I was guided downstairs. I was thirsty—so thirsty—but couldn't voice the thought.

It was like I was sleepwalking, yet I remember the journey .

I'm floating in and out of consciousness now, on the precipice of being pulled under more firmly.

My cramps are ever-present, but I don't have the strength to get up and find more ibuprofen. Sooner or later, one of the guys will make their way upstairs.

The pull of sleep is heavy, and my eyes are so tired.

So much so that I don't even peek them open to see whether one of the guys is still lying beside me.

I attempt to reach out, but the effort is too great.

A shiver racks through me. Half my body is cold, but the other half is far too warm.

Not only that, but my cheek is stuck.

In fact, I'm sweating, and my cheek's sticking to the surface beneath me. Maybe I'm draped over one of the guys' bare chests? Though it feels like it could be leather.

I spend nearly a minute trying to convince myself to sit up. Roll over. Readjust.

A strange sensation nags at me. A thought in the back of my mind, trying to spur me into action. I can't quite pinpoint it. It's the same feeling I get when I can't remember whether I took my meds or where I was when I fell asleep. I just need to sit up. Readjust.

But the best I can do is crack my eyes open.

Instead of seeing Levi or Greedy, or even Kabir, all I see is a wall of beige.

Cream and beige leather, if the scent is any indication. It's mixed with the chemical smell associated with used cars.

That's it.

I'm in a car.

I force my eyes open a fraction of an inch wider, but no matter how hard I try, I can't will myself to sit up.

Am I restrained? No. I don't think so. Shit, I don't even think my seat belt is buckled.

But I'm lying against a leather bench, and the longer I survey my surroundings, the clearer it becomes.

I'm in a car.

I'm in the back seat of a car.

My heart plummets. Why the hell am I in a car?