Chapter 16

16

M y inner wolf whines as Cam retreats, which would be alarming if I didn't know it can only be the biproduct of some drugged-up delusion. The long-term effects of extended exposure to wolfsbane are proving to be nasty. I can feel my animal tucked away safely in my subconscious, scratching at the surface, but she hasn't fully broken through.

Yet.

Slowly but surely, some of my shifter abilities are starting to come back. When I woke up this morning, the bruises on my wrist were considerably faded and the split skin of my lower lip had knit itself back together. I felt stronger and more energized as I pushed up out of bed, and when Cam came downstairs, I could smell the whiskey on his breath before he even spoke. The enhanced healing, strength, and senses are credit to my wolf, but even so, she's not quite strong enough for me to fully inhabit her with a shift.

Still, I'm thrilled the first part of my plan worked, because that means I can start putting the next steps into action. By my count, the full moon should be getting close, and the closer it gets, the stronger my wolf will be. She'll need to be at peak strength for me to have any hope of escaping this hell hole, so while I wait, it's time to focus on phase two: seducing my captor.

Men think with their dicks. It's not an observation, it's a fact- and Cam's packing a hell of a brain in his pants. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that massive cock of his. My mind goes straight to the image of him fisting it, and holy fuck… I think I've been dicknotized.

That's a thing, right? It sounds like a phrase my friend Andie would use. And then our friend Lo would probably correct her grammar while Sloane quietly giggled at the made-up word. Damnit, I miss my friends. If I ever want to see them again, then I need to stick to the plan.

Cam obviously wants me. All I need to do now is harness that attraction so I can exploit it when the time is right. And let's be real, I'm just as maddeningly attracted to the asshole as he is to me. Fooling around with him won't exactly be a chore, especially because I've been fantasizing about riding that horse cock since he whipped it out last night. I'm dying to find out how it'll feel inside me, just once.

Okay, maybe twice.

Of course, he'd actually have to stick around for more than five minutes for that to happen. Hopefully he'll come back soon so I can try to flirt with him a little. And by flirt, I mean get him so riled up that he snaps and nails me against the wall. Or on the cot. Or on the floor…

Fuck.

I groan in frustration as I drag my hands down my face, forcing myself to stop thinking dirty thoughts about my warden. I should be more concerned about what had him so out of sorts today. I expected him to still be a little pissed off about last night, but when he's wound up, he usually acts rashly. Instead, he was all business. He barely said two words to me as he dropped off the tray of food.

Is it weird that I'm a little disappointed?

Come to think of it, it was literally two words- ‘ Back up '. Though I guess I wasn't particularly chatty, either. Something about the look in his eyes reminded me of when my brother gets in one of his moods, and out of habit, I kept my mouth shut for self-preservation's sake.

At least I've got my wolf for company now, even if she's groggy as fuck. She'll be back in fighting shape in no time, which means I've gotta keep at my workouts so I'm not deconditioned when the time comes to get the hell outta dodge. With that in mind, I start in on some gentle stretches, mentally cataloging the list of circuit exercises I plan to do as I limber up.

My eyes flicker over the interior of my cell as I stretch my muscles, landing on the breakfast tray on the floor beside the door. It's the typical morning fare- crackers topped with peanut butter and fruit- but there's something else on the tray that has me doing a double-take.

Holy shit. Is that…?

I immediately stop stretching and rush over to the tray to pick it up, testing the weight of the metal in my palm.

Is this some sort of trick, or was it a mistake?

If it's the latter, then it's my lucky day- because Cam delivered my breakfast with a butterknife. I run the pad of my index finger over the dull serrated edge of the blade, still sticky with peanut butter, and my heart slams against my ribcage as I consider the possibilities of how I can use it.

My options are admittedly limited. A steak knife would've been a game changer, but a butterknife isn't much of a weapon. It's not sharp, so I doubt I can use it to stab my way out of this cell. Then again, it could probably still pierce the skin if I put enough force behind it, and my shifter strength is slowly coming back…

For now, I just need to hide it until I decide how I'm going to put it to use. Spinning around, I whip my head back and forth to scan the interior of the cell in search of a decent hiding place for my new treasure. I'm not messing with the toilet- Cam's threat about the bucket was enough to discourage me from taking any chances- which leaves the cot as my only option. Rushing over to it, I peel up the edge of the thin mattress, tucking the knife underneath. Then I rock back as I straighten, chewing on my lower lip as I mull over whether there's anywhere less obvious I might be able to stash it.

An idea occurs to me to use the serrated edge of the knife to saw open a small hole in the mattress and hide it inside. It won't be as easily found if Cam comes looking for it. And speaking of Cam, I suddenly remember the camera mounted in the corner of my cell. Shit.

Positioning my body to block the corner of the cot from view, I stoop to lift the edge of the mattress and retrieve the knife from underneath. With it held tightly against my chest, I climb onto the cot, careful to keep my back to the camera so that if someone's watching the video feed, they won't be able to discern what I'm up to.

My pulse is still racing out of control, my throat burning with each panicked intake of breath. I'll have to do this quickly since I'm at risk of being discovered. Laying on my belly, I scooch up until I can peer over the edge of the mattress, lowering the knife to begin sawing at the vinyl in line with the lower seam.

Each minute that passes feels like it stretches on for a damn eternity as I work open the seam with the dull blade, creating a small, inconspicuous hole on the back side of the mattress. Once it's wide enough, I slip the knife inside, and a sigh of relief gusts out of me as soon as it's tucked away.

Pushing up on my forearms, I rock back to sit on my heels, pressing a palm to my chest to calm my frantic heart. As the pounding in my ears subsides, I listen carefully for any sign of someone coming down to the basement to catch me out, but all I'm met with is blissful silence.

Thank fuck.

My mind is still racing with possibilities when I happen to glance up at the window on the rear wall of my cell, and an idea occurs to me that's far better than trying to fight my way out of here with a butterknife as a weapon. I've run my fingers along the edge of the frame so many times now that I've practically memorized every groove, and I've considered on more than one occasion that I could probably pop it open if I had something to jam in the gap.

Something small and flat, yet strong enough to pry with.

Something like a butterknife.

The second the thought enters my mind, I'm diving back onto my belly to retrieve the knife from the hole in the mattress I created, hopping up from the cot and immediately racing over to the window. Reaching overhead, I run my fingers along the bottom left edge of the window frame to find the small gap, forcing the tip of the knife in as soon as I locate it. Gritting my teeth, I tug downwards in an effort to pry it loose.

At first, it doesn't budge, and my heart sinks at the futility of the attempt. I yank harder, crying out in frustration, and my heart leaps into my throat when I suddenly hear a pop.

That's all the motivation I need to keep going. Dragging the wedged-in blade over, I work meticulously to loosen the entire bottom edge of the window frame, pushing with all my might until it finally opens and swings upward. Fresh air touches my face for the first time in over a week and the familiar scent of nature stirs my inner wolf from her drug-induced slumber.

Not wasting another second, I tuck the knife into the waistband of my shorts and reach up to grab onto the edge of the window, pushing off with my legs to hop up. I manage to get my forearms up onto the ledge, the metal edges of the frame digging into my skin painfully as I fight to pull my weight up.

My bare feet scrabble for purchase against the concrete wall as I start to wriggle my body through the small gap, fisting the grass outside the window for leverage. My heart's beating so fast that it feels like it's two seconds from leaping out of my chest, and I'm so anxious that I could throw up. But I'm almost there. I'm so close.

When the top half of my body is out, the curve of my butt gets stuck, and it's a struggle to wiggle it through. Once I do, though, my legs slip through quickly and I'm out. I'm free.

Pushing up to my feet, I snap my head back and forth to scan my surroundings, blinking chaotically. There's a log cabin at my back and dense forest right in front of me.

Run.

That singular word echoes in my mind over and over as I take off in a dead sprint, my bare feet pounding against the earth. Damnit, I wish I could shift. Even as I run, I mentally reach for my inner wolf, willing her to come out to play. If I'd given it one more day, I'll bet she would've been strong enough to come forward. Instead, the twigs and rocks on the forest floor are cutting up my feet as I push my body to its absolute limit. Guess this is what I get for being impulsive.

Even though I'm running for my life right now, I'm not scared. I'm goddamn elated, because I'm no longer trapped in that claustrophobic cell. I'm breathing fresh air, surrounded by trees and the dense brush of the forest.

I'm free .