Marcus’ cold gaze assessed me. In the night, he reminded me of Count Dracula. Tall and sinister looking, he had a dead look to his gaze, as if his soul had died long ago.
“Touché,” he replied dryly.
Raven hung back a few feet as Marcus gripped my arm and pulled me to the jet. I dragged my feet. His grip tightened painfully.
Distant sounds of planes taking off came from the runway. I desperately looked around for someone to help me. I didn’t see anybody, but I opened my mouth to scream anyway.
Something plunged into my neck before my scream came out. No! The drug swept through my system so fast I fell to the ground before taking another step.
I DIDN’T REMEMBER much of the plane ride or landing in Chicago. The entire journey was one hazy blur.
I also didn’t know what Marcus drugged me with. It felt like a sedative of some kind but didn’t knock me out completely. I’d briefly wake to hear voices and see foggy images of Heath, Trevor, Marcus and Raven sitting in the plane, but then everything would go black again. The few times my brain worked enough to understand what was happening, I fought to stay awake. Each time, I fell under again, drifting off to a deep, dreamless sleep.
It wasn’t until sometime the next day, or so I assumed from the bright sunlight that pierced my eyelids, that the sedative wore off completely. When I woke enough to understand actual sunlight was visible, I bolted upright. My head spun.
The first thing I noticed after my head stopped spinning was the feel of satiny soft sheets. I was in a king sized bed surrounded by pillows in a huge bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through several large windows. Gauzy curtains framed the impressive panes.
“What the hell?” Nobody else was in the room.
I sprang out of bed despite my pounding head and raced to a window. A wave of nausea swept through me. I almost doubled over on my sprint across the carpet. I stared down at my bare feet as I gripped my knees. Wait, bare feet?
I still wore the same pants and t-shirt from the hanger, but the scratchy sweater was nowhere to be seen. I spotted the canvas shoes by the door just as bile rose in my throat. Instead of continuing to the window, I scanned the room for a bathroom. An open door stood in the corner. I spied a sink. Racing toward it, I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up the pitiful amount of frothy stomach contents. My head pounded even harder.
What the hell did they do to me?
I sank to the bathroom floor. Cold tiles made goosebumps rise along my thighs. Between my rolling stomach and pounding head, I didn’t know which was worse. That someone had transported me across the country while I was unconscious, or that they’d drugged me so much that the side effects were making me feel at death’s door.
After a few minutes, I finally felt like I could stand without retching again. Pulling myself up to the sink basin, I stared in disbelief at the mirror. My face was so white, I looked like a ghost. Hollowed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and pale lips stared back at me. Even my hair looked sick.
I turned on the tap. My mouth and throat were so dry. It felt like my throat cracked when I gulped down mouthful after mouthful of cold water. I drank for so long, a kink formed in my neck from the awkward position.
I finally turned the faucet off and listened for sounds.
Nothing but a slight hum from the HVAC reached my ears.
Creeping out of the bathroom, I scanned the room, looking for cameras. I didn’t see any. That meant this was either a normal bedroom or they were hidden somewhere. I raced to the door and wrenched the handle.
It was locked.
I tried it again and again and screamed in frustration. When it became apparent no amount of raging would work, I raced across the thick carpet to the window, wincing again when my head pounded.
This room was high up, at least two, maybe three stories. It appeared I was in a mansion. The window revealed an impressive backyard. Acres of grass butted up to a thick forest. The grass was brown, obviously dormant for the winter, and the trees were bare. I didn’t see any other houses or people. It was beautiful, but no signs of life were anywhere.
I ran my fingers along the window, searching for a way to open it. There were no locks. They were solid panes, not meant to open. Surveying the rest of the room, I barely registered the elegant fireplace and couches around it. A large wardrobe stood in the corner. Expensive looking artwork hung on the walls.
I needed something heavy. Something I could lift. The wardrobe and couches were obviously out.
Two, dark wood nightstands stood beside the large bed. I raced to one. With more effort than it normally would have taken, I awkwardly lifted it. My stomach rolled again, but I swallowed down the bile.
I carried the table to the window and gripped it tightly before hurling it at the glass with as much force as I could muster. I expected it to crash through the window, or at the very least, crack it.
All it did was bounce off and land with a thud on the floor. To show for my efforts, there was now a crack in the wood baseboard.
“I wouldn’t bother trying that again.”
I whirled around. Raven stood by the door. He quickly closed it before I could see where it led.
“They’re bulletproof,” he explained. “No way in, and no way out.”
Murderous rage boiled through me. I flew at him.
He caught me in his arms but let me pummel his chest anyway. Snarls came from me that didn’t sound human. “How could you!” I screamed. “How could you let him do this to me!”
Raven stood silently, letting me hit him. I screamed at him and took my rage out on his chest. He didn’t try to stop me. When I realized he had no intention of defending himself, the fight went out of me. I slumped to the floor.
Raven didn’t do this to me. Marcus did.
Tears poured down my face as bone-deep desperation took hold of me. It felt like it would swallow me whole. This was real. I was truly a prisoner, and there was no chance of me escaping.
Raven lowered himself to sit beside me. He awkwardly patted my shoulder. His sad, ember filled eyes and lack of words spoke volumes. He liked me, but he wasn’t going to help me.
“Why?” I looked up at him. He was blurred through my tears. “Why won’t you help me?”
“He’s my dad, Lena. I can’t betray him.”
“If you had a dad, and you knew he was a serial killer, would you really turn the other cheek and let him go on killing?”
“It’s not like that, he wouldn’t–”
“Yes, he would! He already has!”
Raven flinched.
The silence stretched again, but I could tell Raven’s mind was made up. He was Marcus’ son, end of story. “Where are we?”
“Um…our house. This is where I grew up.” Raven raked a hand through his hair, his movements so familiar an ache formed in my chest.
I smiled humorously. “Flint runs his hands through his hair too, when he’s worried.”
“What?” He looked startled.
I pointed at his head. His hair stood up on all ends like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. “Flint does the same thing when he’s stressed.”
“Oh.” He glanced down. “Right.”
Another long moment of silence passed.
“Don’t you want to meet them? You have a brother and sister.”
“Um, well…my dad said that’s not true. He said it’s just a coincidence that they look like me.”
My eyes bulged. “You told him what I said? You promised you wouldn’t!”
“No, I didn’t tell him, not really. Just that you said they were my brother and sister and I was curious about it. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t said to him already, at breakfast yesterday.”
“And you believe him over me.”
“It all could be a coincidence, Lena. A lot of people look the same.”
“And have the same mannerisms? Similar personalities? And a link to a genetic researcher? The same researcher that took all of us from our birth parents
when we were babies? Yeah, you’re right, definitely a coincidence. Makes complete sense. There’s no way you’re related to them.”
His face clouded over.
“They’re your brother and sister, Raven.” I sighed. “Whether you want to accept it or not, they are.”
He took a deep breath and stood. “Are you hungry?”
“Does it matter if I am?”
“I’ll bring up a tray for you.” With that, he turned and walked out the door. The key turned in the lock.
I buried my head in my hands.
Nothing had changed, except instead of being kept in a cold, concrete cell, I’d been moved to a gilded cage. The room was beautiful, the furniture and decorations immaculate, the view breathtaking, but it was still a cage, and I was forever its prisoner.
THREE FULL DAYS passed with nobody coming into my room except for Raven, and of course Marcus when he administered my daily drug. I spent most of my time trying to find a way out. I’d emptied every drawer in the desk and wardrobe, rummaged through every cabinet in the bathroom, and tried everything short of pulling the bed apart to find something that would help me breakout. But it didn’t matter. Regardless of how much I tried, I couldn’t find a tool or piece of metal to pick the door’s lock. I knew the lock wasn’t foolproof. I simply didn’t have the means necessary to breakout.
Knowing that made me want to scream.
Each day when Marcus visited, I expected him to wheel me away to some secretive basement lab and begin his Frankenstein experiments on me. But each day, he smiled, asked me mundane, small talk questions, and then administered my daily dose before leaving.
I couldn’t understand Marcus’ angle. Perhaps he was buttering me up for something. He’d said when we first met that he had much to offer me. Does he actually expect me to believe that? If I knew one thing, it was that Marcus only served one person: himself.
I’d asked Raven on that first day, after my meltdown when he’d returned with lunch, why Marcus still allowed him to see me. Apparently, his “dad” felt confident his only son would never betray him. It almost seemed like Marcus nominated Raven as my caretaker because Marcus knew that trusting Raven would solidify his adopted son’s loyalty. Just like Flint, a sense of honor ran deep in Raven’s core.
It seemed Marcus knew that too.
With each hour and day that passed, I became more and more convinced that I’d never see my family again. I spent most of my time pacing the room. There was a TV, but it did little to help me feel connected with anyone. I only turned it on when I wanted to know what time it was. Beyond that, all it did was remind me it was my only connection to the outside world.
As day five began, I knew that a rescue was never coming. Since no one in my family had attempted to rescue me at Marcus’ hanger in California that meant they hadn’t known where I was. I had hoped Amber and Luke’s tracking abilities would have been able to find me, but either we left too quickly from the hanger, or their skills didn’t extend to wherever Marcus held me. And now that we were in Chicago, or somewhere close to it, the chances of them finding me were next to none.
That only left two options since the option of Raven helping me was no longer a possibility.
One, I either acquiesced and accepted Marcus was my captor for the rest of my life, or two, I found a way to get out on my own.
Raven had just brought me lunch. I sat on the couch, picking at it. My appetite had all but disappeared.
I eyed the designer jeans I wore in disgust. They were a symbol of Marcus’ immense wealth and control. In the humongous wardrobe, hung an array of clothes, all in my size. Marcus had obviously planned for my capture. I wondered if there were other rooms in his mansion that were set up for my brothers and sisters. Perhaps there was a room somewhere with jeans and sweatshirts in Flint’s size, just waiting for him to occupy it.
A fierce determination bloomed in me. I wouldn’t let him capture anyone else in my family. I’d find a way out.
Now, it was just a matter of how.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next time Marcus administered my drug, I watched him meticulously. I needed my power back to stand any chance of escape, which meant I needed to find a way to avoid a dose. Just one dose and I’d be able to breakout.
Each time Marcus gave me his drug, he used a small vein in my arm. Raven would hold me down so I couldn’t fight. To make it worse, Marcus always waited for a blood return before he injected the dose. That guaranteed he got the drug in my system. The oily feeling swam through my circulation shortly afterward, and I’d pass out within a minute.
I knew Marcus had a lot of practice giving this drug. He’d kept Susannah, Edgar and Luke subdued for years with it. Granted, he obviously didn’t administer it himself every day, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d had extensive training in phlebotomy. His technique was flawless.
So what can I do to avoid one dose?
I knew enough about medicine, from years of listening to Father and Di, that the drug needed to be injected into my bloodstream for it to work. If the needle slipped from the vein and the drug went into the surrounding tissues, the drug wouldn’t be in circulation. Therefore, it wouldn’t work.
In other words, I needed to find a way to have the needle come out of my vein while Marcus was injecting the drug without Marcus realizing it.
I began to plan.
THE NEXT MORNING, just after I showered and dressed, Marcus and Raven knocked on my bedroom door. Such manners. I once said I was busy, just to see what they’d do. They entered anyway.
The key in the lock always sounded before they both walked in. With them came a draft from the hall. I tried to peek over their shoulders each time, but as always, all I was awarded with was a glimpse of windows and a carpeted hallway. Not much for details.
Nobody but them ever entered my room. I wondered if anyone else knew I was here. I had no idea if Marcus had staff. Perhaps he had a housekeeper who questioned why this bedroom door was always locked and closed. Or perhaps not.
No one cleaned that I knew of. I never heard voices in the hall, sounds of vacuums being run or radios being played. Wherever I was kept in this mansion was most likely off limits to anyone else.
I watched Marcus warily as he stepped into the room.
“Good morning, Galena.” He smiled. Those gray eyes were cold, as they always were. His hair was expertly styled, his face clean shaven. A hint of expensive cologne wafted around him. Utter perfection oozed from his persona, yet that pristine beauty contained a heart of evil.
He wore pressed slacks, a dress shirt and tie. I’d never seen him without a tie. I had no idea if that dress decorum was required at O’Brien Pharmaceuticals. Or perhaps he was merely corporate now – no longer delving into the labs like Father still did.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Never better,” I replied sarcastically. I hoped my sarcasm hid my nerves. My palms sweat so badly at what I needed to do this morning.
Marcus either chose to ignore my sarcasm or didn’t pick up on it.
Raven entered behind his dad. He kept his eyes averted. He always did. It was like if Raven didn’t look at me and didn’t see the pain on my face, then he wasn’t really doing anything wrong.
“Come, have a seat.” Marcus sat on the sofa by the fire.
“I’m fine here.” I stood rooted by the bed.
Marcus reached into the small bag he always carried. From it, he withdrew a syringe and vial. Without looking at me, he began to draw up the medication. “Tomorrow, we’ll be going to the lab.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“I’ve given you enough time to adjust to your new life. It’s time to continue with our studies. If you cooperate, it’ll work to your advantage.”
I whipped my gaze to Raven, but he was half turned and seemed to be studying a very fascinating speck of lint on a pillow.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
Anger bubbled up in me. Right, of course not. It’s only my life and my body, nothing for me to worry about. I wanted to scream at him and tear that satisfied smile off his face, but I was powerless. Raven would stop me before I got within a foot of his dad.
“Now, have a seat.” Marcus patted the couch cushion beside him.
I swallowed tightly. This was it. It was now or never. If Marcus transported me to his lab, I’d be locked behind walls of concrete, perhaps underground. My energy balls couldn’t penetrate that regardless of whether or not I got off his drug.
It would truly be the end.
With stiff movements, I walked to the couch and sat. Raven seated himself beside me and hooked a leg over both of mine before gripping my wrists. The action held me immobile. The first time he’d done that, I’d fought, but then he’d formed a ring of fire around my head, inches from my face. That was enough to make me stop. The skin on my fingertip, that I’d burned back in the concrete cell after being curious about his power, had finally healed. Another thing I’d learned about Raven’s fire was that they burned deeper than a normal fire even if the burn seemed superficial. Skin didn’t heal quickly, and although I wasn’t vain, I preferred keeping my face intact.
My heart pounded harder as Marcus swabbed my skin with an alcohol wipe. The pungent smell filled my nose. He next wrapped an elastic band around my bicep. Taking the needle, Marcus flicked my skin a few times until he found a good vein.
I stopped breathing.
This was it.
If I couldn’t avoid this dose, I’d never be free.
The prick of the needle stung. I watched the metal slide under my skin. Marcus drew back. Crimson blood flushed into the syringe. He always found a vein on his first try. My eyes widened as he slowly began injecting the drug.
Now, Lena! Now!
“I think I might be pregnant!”
Marcus’ head whipped up, and Raven’s grip loosened. I moved my arm a fraction of an inch. I felt the needle move, but I didn’t know if it had pierced through the vein and gone into the surrounding tissues. I could only hope it had. If it hadn’t, the drug would continue being pushed into my circulation system.
Reborn: A Contemporary Fantasy Romance (The Lost Children Trilogy Book 3) Page 18
