Chapter 8

8

I t's cute that my captor thought he'd discourage me from trying to escape by pointing out how secure this cell is. In actuality, all he did was narrow down my list of ideas, because I'm not about to sit in here all day doing nothing. Dying of boredom would be terribly anticlimactic.

The steel bars are a non-starter, as are the concrete walls. Even if I was at full strength with my wolf, I'm not the incredible Hulk; I can't just knock that shit down with sheer force. Still, I take the time to test every single bar, gripping, pulling, and examining them for signs of weakness. When I don't find any, I move onto the walls, running my hands over the smooth concrete and feeling for any cracks.

I try my best not to let my determination wane, even as I fail to identify any potential means of escape from the cell. That's probably exactly what he wants; to break my spirit so I'll stop trying. It'd be a hell of a lot easier to just give up and resign myself to my fate, but I've never backed down from a challenge in my life. That's exactly how I have to view this; as a challenge to overcome. I need to stay focused because every time I allow my mind to wander, the walls feel like they're closing in and it's hard to breathe.

I've hated confined spaces for as long as I can remember. I still vividly recall the first time I felt truly trapped, back when I was a kid playing in the forest with my brother. Madd and I found a cave to explore, and during the course of our expedition, the roof partially collapsed between us, trapping me behind a wall of rubble. He got me out relatively quickly, but that terrifying feeling of helplessness that I had while trapped has stuck with me. It's my greatest fear.

And now I'm living it.

I try to shake off the impending feeling of doom, refocusing on my objective. Keeping busy and shifting my concentration is the only way I can keep the fear from clawing at my throat, threatening to pull me under. Mind over matter, right?

I pace over to the window at the rear of my cell, pressing up on my tiptoes and examining it closely. This window is the only thing keeping me sane right now since it provides a view of the outside. If I focus on that window- on what freedom looks like beyond the dirty pane of glass- then I feel less trapped.

The window could actually be a viable escape option. The glass is thick, as is the heavy metal frame securing it, but I'm betting I could wriggle through the gap if I can figure out how to get it open. Or break the glass somehow.

Heaving a sigh, I turn around to survey the interior of the cell once more. Both the toilet and cot are bolted down to the floor. The thin mattress isn't secured to the cot, but the metal plate beneath it is welded to the frame. There isn't anything loose that I could pry off to use as a weapon to break the window.

Shit.

Think, Avery, think!

My stomach curls in on itself, grumbling with hunger pains. I took down the crackers and water as soon as I was left alone, but they're hardly enough to sustain me. Subconsciously rubbing at my belly, I lift my gaze to look around the cell again, searching for anything usable to aid my escape. Anything I might've missed.

That's when I finally notice the small camera mounted in the top left corner of the cell, breaking out in full-body chills at the realization that these sick fucks have been watching me. I really should've noticed it before, but from its position, it blends in with the shadows. Staring directly into the lens, I lift a fist and extend my middle finger, scowling as I mouth, ‘fuck you'.

As confirmation that I'm being watched, I hear the door at the top of the stairs open a few minutes later, the harsh overhead lighting assaulting my retinas when they're flicked on. Heavy footsteps descend, and I glance warily in that direction, my eyes adjusting just in time to see my captor come into view at the bottom of the stairs.

Cam . That's the name he answered to earlier when someone called down to him, and I can't decide if it suits him or not. I expected him to have some classic hot guy name, like Zade or Ryder . Cam seems far too tame- it's the kind of name that would suit a handsome prince, not a diabolical villain.

He's wearing thigh-hugging dark wash jeans and a faded grey t-shirt that does nothing to disguise his build underneath. His body is absolutely shredded, and paired with the whole tall, dark, and tattooed thing he's got going on… yeah, I'm fucked. I must've watched Beauty and the Beast too many times growing up, because even though I'm literally being held prisoner, his whole vibe is totally working for me.

I should probably seek therapy in the future to unpack that.

Cam strides over to my cell with a confident swagger, carrying a stack in his hands that appears to be a towel and some fresh clothing. He drops them onto the metal folding chair he occupied last night, then approaches the cell door, eyeing my empty tray on the floor before proceeding to stick the key in the lock.

"Ready for your first interrogation?" he asks as the lock turns over with a metallic click.

I bristle, preparing myself for a fight. If he's planning to use the same ‘interrogation' techniques on me that were used on Tommy, I'm not about to take it lying down. Focusing my mind, I try to call on my inner wolf for strength, but she's still dormant. Damnit . The wolfsbane should've started to wear off by now.

Cam pauses before pushing the cell door open, his nose wrinkling with a grimace. "But first, I'm taking you for a shower," he says bluntly as his gaze collides with mine, his eyes so dark they're almost black. "You reek like wet dog."

Indignant rage scorches my veins. My cheeks burn, lips twisting in a scowl as I glare back at him.

He remains infuriatingly calm. "You need to behave, alright?" Cam murmurs, pushing against the cell door. It swings open between us with an ominous creak. "If you try anything, you'll only make it harder on yourself."

Drawing a deep breath, I try calling on my inner wolf again, scraping at the recesses of my mind for any sign of her. I'm only met with unnerving silence.

Cam's lips curl in a smirk as he crooks a finger to beckon me, and even without my wolf or any real plan, I decide to make a break for it. Not that I'm expecting he'll actually let me get away easily, but it's the only way to truly gauge what I'm up against here. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I take a slow, measured step forward, as if I'm complying. Then another. As soon as I reach the threshold of the cell, I dart past him, aiming for the stairs.

He's on me in an instant. His response time actually takes me by surprise, and I suck in a sharp gasp as his weight slams against my back, sending me sprawling forward into the wall across from my cell. I barely manage to catch myself on it with my palms so I don't break my pretty face on the concrete, and Cam's big body immediately crowds me in from behind. He grabs for my hands, wrenching them behind my back in one fluid movement.

"What'd I just say about behaving?" he pants, his warm breath skating across my neck as he leans his face down beside mine. His body presses in tighter, pinning me between him and the wall so securely that I can barely even move.

"Fuck you," I hiss through gritted teeth, squirming against him. He's much better trained than I anticipated. With his weight at my back and his hold on my wrists, he's effectively rendered me immobile. Even his legs are pressing in against mine to prevent me from kicking him.

"Nah, I'm not into bestiality," he scoffs, transferring both of my wrists to one hand. He wraps his other arm tightly around my waist, taking a step backwards and yanking me with him.

"Let me go!" I yell, thrashing and kicking as he starts muscling me down the hallway, seemingly unaffected by my struggle. My gaze catches on the interior of the neighboring cell as he forces me past it, and a wave of nausea hits me so hard that it's a miracle I'm able to keep down the precious little food I've been given.

There's so much blood.

Tommy isn't anywhere to be seen, but from the amount of dried blood coating the floor and splattering the walls, I can only assume I'm looking at a murder scene. My stomach bottoms out, breath stalling and heart racing as I take it in. I start struggling in earnest as I'm shoved past the second cell and through a doorway at the end of the hall, stumbling forward when Cam finally releases his hold on me.

I manage to catch myself before I faceplant on the tile floor, straightening my posture and whipping around to face my captor. My throat tightens when I realize we're now standing in a small bathroom and he's pulled the door shut behind him, sealing us inside.

Don't panic.

This room is small, though. Really small . And there are no windows. There's just a toilet, a sink, and a shower cubicle.

Cam positions himself squarely in front of the door, folding his arms over his chest and nodding toward the shower. "Wash up," he directs in a clipped tone.

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch?" I grit out, fisting my hands at my sides.

As much as I don't want to give this asshole a peep show right now, if he leaves me in this room by myself, I might go into a full-blown panic attack. Don't get me wrong, I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but with as worked up as I am right now, I can't be locked in this tiny room alone. I can't. The mere thought of it has my airway constricting, a shudder running through me as I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.

"Yes," Cam replies bluntly. "I have to watch you, make sure you don't try to pull anything stupid." He shrugs a shoulder and kicks up a foot to rest on the door behind him, the picture of nonchalance.

I snort a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, and I'm sure that has nothing to do with seeing me naked."

"Don't flatter yourself," he mutters boredly. "If I wanted a strip show, I'd get one from a real woman, not a fucking mutant."

If he's attempting to break me down with humiliation, he's way off base. For one, I know I'm a total babe. I'm not cocky, just self-aware. And for two, I'm a shifter . I've never been ashamed of nudity. I get naked in front of other people every time I shift and never bat an eye.

So, I just huff in annoyance as I turn on a heel, stomping over to the shower cubicle and twisting the water on. The cold spray soaks my arm before I can jump back, and I immediately start stripping out of my dirty clothes, not even bothering to wait for the shower to warm up. The sooner I get clean, the sooner I can leave this oppressively small room.

Tossing my soiled clothes aside, I step beneath the spray, sucking in a breath as the cold water shocks my system. Then I squeeze my eyes closed, giving my body a few seconds to adjust to the temperature. Once my muscles relax and my breathing returns to normal, I open them again and look around.

The only thing on the little shelf built into the shower wall is a bottle of one of those weird three-in-one combo washes for men that supposedly acts as a body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. I call bullshit on those claims, but since I haven't showered in days and beggars can't be choosers, I reach for the bottle and pop the cap.

The bluish gel reeks like cheap cologne, but I still squeeze a glob onto my hands and work it up into a lather, rubbing it all over my body and through my hair. The color of it reminds me of the prank I played on Madd. That memory feels so distant now, like it was years ago instead of weeks.

Will I ever see my twin again?

Choking back my emotion, I spin around beneath the shower spray to rinse off, my eyes catching on Cam still standing guard at the door.

He's eating me up with his gaze, those dark eyes clouded with unmistakable lust as they tour my body. Then they snap up to meet mine and he quickly schools his expression, trying to appear bored, but the way he subtly reaches down to adjust the bulge in the front of his tight jeans tells a very different story.

Holy shit.

I've been going about this whole thing the wrong way, completely missing what's been right in front of my face. Cam may hate me, but he also wants me, and that's something I can work with .

I'm a sexually charged person. Flirting comes so easily to me that I don't even realize I'm doing it half the time. I'm not above using my sexuality to my advantage if it can aid my escape- and, if I'm being honest, fucking Cam wouldn't exactly be torture. He's so damn gorgeous that it's criminal, even if he is the enemy.

I don't need to incredible Hulk the walls down to get out of here. I just need to lay a little honey trap.

"Like what you see?" I purr, running my hands down the front of my body and cupping my full breasts.

Cam's eyes snap back to mine, positively smoldering.

Got him.

My lips curl in a smirk as I arch my back, shifting beneath the shower spray. I close my eyes as the water runs over my body, stroking my hands over my hair, then step forward again, blinking the water from my eyelashes as I open them.

Cam's still standing tensely in front of the door, glaring at me with a heady mix of rage and desire. "What the fuck are you doing?" he growls menacingly, the gravelly sound of his voice sending a ripple of excitement through me.

I bite back a grin as I slide a hand down my belly. "Isn't it obvious?" I tease, moving my hand lower, pushing between my legs…

My little show is cut short when Cam charges toward me- but instead of jumping my bones, he hauls me up and tosses me over his shoulder in a fireman carry. My world flips upside-down as he whirls around and stomps out of the bathroom, his clothes half-soaked and the soles of his boots squeaking against the tile.

He carries me straight back to my cell, storming inside and throwing me down onto the cot. As soon as my back hits the shoddy excuse for a mattress, he comes down on top of me, bracing himself with his arms on either side of my head and lowering his face down until it's inches from my own .

"Don't ever try that shit again, you hear me?" he snarls, dark eyes boring into mine.

Oh fuck, there he is. The real Cam, not the bored, aloof mask he puts on to deal with his captive. And as angry and threatening as he's trying to be right now, the hard press of his erection against my thigh says otherwise. He likes this, and damnit if the shower isn't the only thing that's got me wet.

My breath stutters as I stare up at him, somehow both terrified and turned on. His tattooed forearms bracket my head, his honey-brown skin glistening with moisture from the shower that makes his ink stand out even more. The weight of his body against my hips sends a flood of heat rushing to my core, my heart racing faster.

"Or what?" I ask breathily, arching a brow in challenge. "You already have me in a cage."

I shift my hips, purposefully rubbing against his crotch, and he jerks back like he's been slapped, shoving off the cot and stumbling to his feet.

He levels me with a cold glare, the fire that was in his eyes before now completely extinguished. Licking his lips, he drops his voice to a dangerously low decibel. "Or the floor of this cell is gonna be stained just as red as the other one, and the boys'll have another body to bury."

My blood turns to ice in my veins, my own flames doused in an instant.

Tommy's dead. I already knew he was, but the confirmation in hearing it out loud is horrifying.

Before I can react, Cam turns around and storms out of the cell, grabbing the clothes and towel from the chair and stepping back into the doorway to throw them at me. I bat them out of the air before they can hit me in the face, jumping up as he swings the cell door closed and turns the key in the lock.

"You're a fucking murderer!" I shriek, charging toward him .

Even though I'm still butt naked, he doesn't spare me another glance. He just turns around and leaves, heading for the stairs and beginning his ascent.

I grip the bars, shaking them as hard as I can while I fight back the tears building behind my eyes. "Let me out!" I scream shrilly, a stray tear slipping free and sliding down my cheek.

The lights go out overhead and the door at the top of the stairs slams.