Page 45 of The Prey
I check the toothpick I placed at the top hinge. It's not broken, so...no one was here.
The relief I feel makes me lightheaded. Inside the room, I stare at the neatly made bed and then back at the stack of ripped-up books. I’ll have to use them for now since I can’t afford to get different ones.
Gingerly, I take a seat on the edge of the bed and place my plastic coffee cup on the bedside table before I fall back against the mattress. I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m doing. This room has lost its appeal, its safe aura. But it's the first place that was all mine, where I felt okay for a period. Now it’s been tainted, and I don’t know how to fix it. Or if I even can.
The only way I’ll feel secure again is if Yanov disappears, if he forgets my existence.
Did he come at my father's order?
I haven't seen him since the night he beat me into unconsciousness and shot me. Thankfully. But just because he hasn’t reached out or initiated a conversation doesn’t mean he’s not out there, looking for a way to make my life worse hell than it already is.
You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.
That’s been my mantra for months, and it’s worked well until that night at the club. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shake away the feeling of being watched. Ants march down my spine, making me shiver. The longer I think about it, the worse my thoughts become. Fear begins to claw open my chest, and I heave myself off the bed, crashing into the opposite wall.
I tried to do it. I tried, but I can't. I can’t stay in this room.
What if he finds me while I’m sleeping? The fear spikes, reaching its height, and I rush into the hall, up the stairs, and into the kitchen. It's a relief that it’s still empty. The last thing I need is to run into Sebastian or Tanya right now.
Not wanting to chance a run-in with either of them, I grab some leftovers I know neither will touch and slip out the side door onto the patio that leads out to the lawn. There’s one other place I can go to hide away from the rest of the world that makes me calm and brings me joy. A place that I doubt Yanov would ever think to look for me.
The abandoned groundskeeper’s cottage. It’s where I house all my “pets,” as Sebastian calls them. The mere reminder of his name sends me into a tizzy. He’s so patronizing and dismissive. Why does he care if rescuing little animals and nursing them back to health makes me feel better?
It’s not my fault he doesn’t have the ability to show compassion, at least outside his own needs. I’m glad no one told him about the dog I’ve been caring for.
I found him wandering the property a couple of nights ago. He was limping, so I assume he has a sprained paw or something. I’ve been trying to get out to the cottage to check on him more than once a day, but that’s proven to be difficult.
I’ll just have to try harder.
I rush down the slope of the lawn toward the old groundskeeper’s cottage. I’m focused on the task of getting there inside, so much so that I miss the man dressed in all black popping up out of nowhere.
He cuts into my path, forcing me to stop or run directly into him. I dig my feet into the ground, stopping at the last second. I’m a bubble of fear that’s ready to pop. I only manage to pull myself together when I realize it’s just one of the security guards and not some masked stalker who’s coming to kidnap me. One glance at the guard's face and recognition blooms.
He’s the usual guard on patrol when I sneak out here. His blue eyes fill with concern as they roam my face. Robin…I think is his name.
“You okay?” He greets me.
I straighten my shoulders and stand a little taller, trying to look less exhausted and afraid. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just checking on Cobalt.”
“I heard him barking earlier, but I didn’t know if you had told the boss about him yet, so I led the other guard away just in case. Hopefully, he's feeling better soon.”
I beam up at him. “Thank you. It looks like it’s just a sprain. I’m hoping he’ll be all healed up in a couple of days. I’m sure it helps that he doesn’t have to go scavenge for food.”
He tucks his hands into his protective vest and nods. “Of course. Just try to keep him from barking.”
I nod once and head to the cottage.
It's a rustic place but serviceable. There are two rooms, one a big open space where I spot Cobalt sitting on a worn rug. A sleeping bag is rolled up on the hearth, and I tug on it and lay it out flat.
“Come here, boy. Lie down. You need to rest.”
Cobalt lets out a loud yipping bark, and I clamp my hand over his muzzle.
“Shhhh, Buddy. Be quiet. If Mr. Grumpypants finds out I’ve rescued another animal, he’s going to lose his mind.” I check his brace, which looks good. “There. Good boy. I’ll lie down with you for a while. I could use the company.”
I run my hand up his long muzzle to the top of his head and then to his left ear and give him some scratches. He leans into my touch, and that makes me smile as well as eases some of the tension in my muscles. Why are animals so much easier to deal with than humans? At least with animals, I know what they want from me. Food. Care. Attention. Easy enough.
People are the hard ones.