In His Ruins

Episode two

CHAPTER TWO

POV — ARIEL

I wake up to darkness. No sound, no light. And nothing about this place feels right.

I feel along the floor, searching for my bag. Then a thought crosses my mind.

Am I even awake, or is this still a dream? So I pinch my thigh so hard that I almost scream.

And yeah, I'm awake.

"What the hell? This ain't a f*****g dream." I suck in a sharp breath.

The last thing I remember is my self in the arms of the tattooed guy who had come to save me but now I'm here.

My fingers brush against leather. I clutch my bag to my chest and dig inside until I find my phone.

For a moment, I wonder how I ended up here. The last thing I remember is the tattooed man from the hospital.

The man who saved me.

I stop myself before the memory can go any further.

I don't want to think about it.

Switching on my phone's torch, I sweep the beam around the room.

"How did I even end up here?" I whisper.

The light catches a door.

Instinct takes over, and I scramble toward it. My fingers close around the handle, and I pull it open, desperate for answers.

My eyes widen.

It's hme, the same man who saved me.

My heart slams against my ribs. I clutch my bag, suddenly unsure whether I should run or scream.

Then I notice the man lying on the floor.

He's badly hurt, his breathing laboured. I stare at him, struggling to understand what I'm seeing.

"Mr. Shawn?". My voice cracks.

What is he doing here? And why is he being tortured?

A year ago, I lost Jason, a close friend of mine, Kaesia's, and Seyrah's.

He used to sit with me in the hospital parking lot at two in the morning whenever Dad had an episode. When Kaesia couldn't be there, Jason stayed beside me, making sure I wasn't alone.

That was Jason. He didn't need to say much. Sometimes, his presence was enough.

His father claimed Jason had taken his own life, but none of us believed it. Jason wasn't the kind of person we thought would willingly leave the people he loved behind.

Losing him left a hole in all our lives, and Seyrah took his death especially hard.

I swallow, forcing the memories aside.

This isn't the time.

Not when Mr. Shawn is lying on the floor, barely breathing.

And not when the man who saved me from danger has become the danger himself.

Did he save me just to torture me too?

I look toward the exit, only to find his eyes waiting for me.

Grey. Cold. Deadly.

His black hair falls over his forehead, but his face remains expressionless. Blood stains his gloves.

I can't move.

The shock sends me stumbling backward until I hit the floor. Sweat gathers on my skin, and my fingers tighten around my phone.

He pulls off his gloves and lets them drop.

Just like that.

As though what he's done means absolutely nothing.

My mind goes blank. I try to breathe, but my chest tightens. Tears slip down my cheeks before I even realise I'm crying.

I'm too scared to pretend to be brave.

Maybe it's because he's hurting someone I know. Maybe it's because I still can't understand how the same man who rescued me could be capable of this.

He doesn't look like a monster.

He's handsome, almost unfairly so, but there's something criminal about the way he carries himself. Something that makes it clear his appearance is the least dangerous thing about him.

And that terrifies me even more.

I force myself to stand and wipe my face.

"You're mine now."

His words from the hospital return to me, clear as day.

My body trembles.

He watches me without blinking. His grey eyes burn with a cold intensity that makes me want to look away.

Instead, I force myself to hold his gaze.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice shaking.

He ignores me, looking at me as though I'm some prize he's won.

Then he speaks in that rough British accent.

"How ungrateful."

I frown despite my fear. "How so?"

"You should thank me properly. At least for saving your life."

His voice sharpens.

"You saved me and kidn*pped me!" I squeak.

Before I can move, his hand closes around my throat.

My back stiffens as I struggle to breathe.

"Let go!" I gasp, grabbing his wrist.

"Apologise," he barks. "Then I might."

I try to pull his hand away, but he's too strong.

"I'll do that after my safety is confirmed," I choke out.

His grip loosens just enough for me to draw a shallow breath.

"Are you bargaining with me?" His expression darkens. "Your life is at stake."

"I just want to know I'm safe." I swallow painfully. "How am I supposed to thank you when I don't even know whether you're going to hurt me?"

For a moment, he simply stares at me.

Then the corner of his mouth lifts.

"I like this side of you better."

His grin is sardonic, and I can't tell whether I've amused him or made things worse.

I can't figure out what goes on inside that head of his. His expression gives nothing away.

Cold. Almost angelic, if not for the danger lurking beneath it.

"I have unfinished business," he says.

Before I can ask what he means, he grabs me and shoves me back into the room.

The cold hits my skin instantly.

The place smells of metal and bleach, as though someone has tried to scrub every trace of suffering from its walls.

I stumble, catching myself before I fall.

"What the hell just happened?" I mutter, trying to steady my trembling knees.

Then another name comes to mind.

Creighton.

He's the only person I can think of who might be able to get me out of here.

I clutch my phone, praying I haven't somehow left it outside.

Creighton has always treated me like a little sister, even though his feelings for me were more complicated than that.

He used to text me every morning, remind me to drive safely, and ask whether Dad was doing better.

But I never felt the same way about him. To me, he was like an older brother, and I couldn't pretend otherwise just because he wanted something more.

I told him the truth because I didn't want to lead him on.

Now, sitting in a strange room with a dangerous man outside, I can't help wondering whether things might have been different if I'd accepted his feelings.

Maybe he'd be tearing this place apart to find me.

Then again, he'd probably look for me regardless.

Blood doesn't make someone family. Sometimes, it's the people who choose to stay who matter most.

I dial his number.

The call fails. I try again.

Network unavailable.

"Come on," I whisper, lifting my phone higher as though that might help. "Please, just work."

Nothing.

The signal is too weak down here.

Kaesia will be worried sick. She's the only one of my close friends living in the same state as me. Seyrah is in London, and Kaesia and I have lived together for years.

Today is the one day I went out without telling her where I was going.

I didn't even leave a note.

And now I'm trapped in a basement, with no idea whether I'll ever see her again.

My stomach twists.

Then I hear something outside.

A scream. I freeze.

Another scream follows, louder this time, accompanied by heavy thuds and deep, agonised groans.

I press a hand over my mouth.

The sounds continue, each one making my imagination run wild. I try to convince myself that Mr. Shawn is still alive, that the man outside will eventually stop and let him go.

But the sounds only grow more disturbing.

Then slowly, they fade.

One final thud. Silence.

My heart pounds.

Is he dead?

I can't stop the thought from forming.

Mr.Shawn...

Tears gather in my eyes again. I don't even know what's happening or why he's being hurt, but I know he doesn't deserve this.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the shivering.

Then I hear footsteps. They're coming closer.

I lift my head just as the door creaks open.

His gaze finds mine immediately.

His six-foot frame moves toward me, each step making my heart beat harder.

I scramble backward until my shoulders hit the wall.

I wish I could pass through it and disappear.

He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back.

Pain shoots through me.

"Now it's your turn." His voice is dangerously calm. "Aren't you going to bargain?"

My mouth goes dry.

He pulls out a stiletto and brings it close enough to make every muscle in my body tense.

I shiver.

Every part of me screams at me to run, to fight, to do something.

But I can't move.

I struggle against his grip, and a sharp sting suddenly flashes across my arm.

I gasp.

He drops the dagger and releases me.

I stumble away, clutching my arm and breathing heavily. My eyes dart toward the door, but before I can even consider making a run for it, he comes at me again.

This time, his fingers close around catches and my breath catches a hold.

I grab his wrist, desperately trying to loosen his grip, but panic is already swallowing every sensible thought in my head.

I can barely speak.

"No... No... Please, let go...!"