Free Web NovelChapter 128: Chapter 128 The Culprit
_Rowena’s POV_
The next day, he came back again.
He wore the same jacket, walked in the same unhurried way. But this time, he brought a proper cup of water and what appeared to be food wrapped in paper that he set on the floor near the door without ceremony.
I was sitting on the bedframe when he came in and I just sat there staring at him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, as if he cared.
“Who’s behind this?” I replied instead. I wasn’t here to beat around the bush.
He almost smiled but didn’t. “No small talk.”
“Who’s behind this?!” I raised my voice this time as I asked again.
He sighed and did the last thing I expected. He actually sat down on the floor with his back against the wall, which was an odd choice, and looked at me across the room with the same relaxed posture. He looked like he didn’t have a schedule.
“Does it matter?” He raised a brow.
“It matters to me,” I said. “I’d like to know whose decision this was.”
“You’ll find out eventually,” he said. “When they want you to know.”
“They?” I repeated. “So more than one person.”
He looked at the ceiling briefly. Realizing he’d given something away. Then he looked back at me with the careful expression of someone recalibrating.
“Tell me what you’re being paid,” I said. “I’ll double it.”
He looked at me for a few minutes, then bursted out laughing. It was a genuine laugh, not performed, which told me the offer had actually reached him and he was genuinely amused by it rather than insulted.
“Do I look poor to you?” he asked after laughing.
I looked at him properly, his jacket, his shoes, his watch, which I had clocked the first time he came in and which was serious money.
“No,” I said. “But everyone has a number.”
“Not everyone,” he shook his head.
“You’re doing this for something other than money,” I said.
He didn’t answer that.
Which was an answer.
“Someone you care about asked you to, am I right?” I pushed.
He looked at me with the flat expression of someone who had decided to stop responding.
“Relax,” he said, standing up. “I’ll come back later to keep you updated.”
“Updated on what exactly? I need to know why I’m being held hostage. It really doesn’t make sense. Is the person scared of me?” I smirked when the last question came out of my mouth.
“On how things are progressing, and the person isn’t scared of you. You aren’t a match for them.” he said vaguely, and walked out.
I looked at the door after it closed.
“Kyra,” I called out immediately.
“Still weak,” she said. “But slightly better than yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, but I need to find a way out of here,” I said. “I need to find out who dared do this to me. That window over there is too high. The door has no interior handle. What can you give me?”
She gave a long pause as response, before saying, “Nothing yet. I’m sorry. I’m still filtering whatever they put in us. My senses are muted.” She sighed. “I can’t even smell anything beyond this room. I can’t hear anything useful. I’m trying.”
“Keep trying,” I was frustrated, but stayed calm. If I find who was responsible for this, I wouldn’t hesitate to ruin them completely.
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.
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In the afternoon of that same day, the pain came back.
It arrived the way he had said it would, on its own schedule, and without warning. I was sitting with my back against the wall going through what I knew about the room’s construction when it hit and I muffled the sound against my sleeve because making noise felt like giving something away even with no one in the room to hear it.
I convulsed as the pain assaulted me once more. Cold sweat broke out on my face and entire body. In no time, I was drenched in my own sweat.
Kyra also went completely still, and I knew this was slowly killing her.
I passed out somewhere in the middle of it.
I came back to consciousness in stages.
When I regained consciousness again, I noticed a few things had changed.
First, the smell, different from before. Not just damp concrete. Something else. It smelled like rubber or maybe old wood. The specific dusty smell of a large space that had been closed for a long time.
Then suddenly, lights showed on my face.
More of it than before. There were also high industrial windows, still small and high up, but more of them, letting in grey daylight at multiple angles.
Then the restraints.
My wrists were tied in front of me with a tight rope, tight enough to mean it but not so tight as to cut circulation. I was seated on a concrete floor, back against a cold metal.
I slowly opened my eyes fully.
The room was large, one look at it and I saw it was an old gymnasium, I assessed it in about four seconds. It had wooden floors in poor condition, metal beams overhead, equipment that had been pushed to the walls years ago and left there. An abandoned space that had been chosen specifically because it was abandoned.
Then I noticed the figure in front of me.
There was someone standing in front of me.
When I looked closely, I froze, but not visibly.
It was the last person I expected. Virella.
I looked at her for a moment and then I looked at the room and then I looked back at her with the same expression I had been wearing for the past two days, which was calm. frёewebnoѵēl.com
I wasn’t even putting on an act of staying calm. I was actually calm. The kind that came from deciding a long time ago that panic was a resource you couldn’t afford to spend in situations that required clear thinking.
My hair was a mess, my lips felt dry and cracked and probably looked worse than they felt. My clothes were the same ones from the street. But I didn’t let my physical appearance make me look pitiful before these people.
I held her gaze with mine and waited for her to ramble as usual.
