Chapter 2

Cora--

I’m not sure how long it takes me, but eventually my mind clears. I find myself lying on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. I feel my heartrate accelerating, pounding until my skin judders with the impacts– this is not my apartment, not a hospital, not Matushka’s house. I don’t remember coming here, or going to sleep last night. How did I get here? I vaguely remember having strange dreams about someone in my room, but I’ve been having nightmares of being abducted by monsters for weeks now. I just know Landon is dumb enough to do something drastic. I’ve become used to the feeling of his gaze on me.

Is that what this is? Did Landon actually decide to kidnap me? What would his end game be, if so? I can’t imagine he would want to keep me prisoner forever, just to have a pet human that he still has to feed and buy clothes and hair products for. Then again, if he wanted to kill me he clearly could have already. The fact that I woke up in a strange place with no notion of how I got here means he had complete power and agency over me at some point.

At the last thought, I feel another hot stab of panic clearing the last of the medicated grogginess from my brain. I frantically check my clothes, but my pants and underwear are in order. Everything is still on, nothing is crooked or sloppy. I’m not sore or… sticky. That’s one less thing to worry about. I know I’m lucky in that respect, at least. Landon might be an idiot and an asshole, but in the way that a mischievous golden retriever can be an idiot and an asshole. If this was him like I think it was, I can expect annoyance and inconvenience but probably not pain. He doesn’t have it in him. I’m in the middle of stretching and testing my limbs– not being up for torture doesn’t mean he didn’t accidentally slam me against anything– when I hear a door creak open.

I suppose I should be grateful that wherever I am has more than one room, but I’m still incensed that I’ve been kidnapped. I’m standing by the bed with my arms crossed, feet braced for confrontation, when the bedroom door slowly opens as if the kidnapper is trying to be quiet. They fail, and surprise, surprise, Landon’s lunkhead carcass steps through the doorway. He has to tilt his shoulders a little to come through the door, and I immediately file the observation away to think later about how I can utilize that brief delay.

A dazzling, boyish smile lights Landon’s face, like he’s excited to see me. Who else would it be, dumbass? “Hey you! You’re finally awake!” He carefully closes the door behind him and leans back against it. We’re staying in here for now, I guess. “You slept a lot longer than I thought you would. It had me worried. You don’t feel sick or anything, do you? I can get you some bread or something. I think I might have poured you too much.”

The only thing worse than a criminal is an incompetent criminal. He could have overdosed me on whatever he knocked me out with and killed me by accident. I try to rein in my temper. I have no room to lose my cool here. I have to think. “I feel fine. Groggy. Too much of what?” I work hard to keep my foot from tapping, my face smoothly indifferent. Belatedly, I remember that my arms are crossed, and I casually let them drop to my sides.

Landon rubs the back of his neck, his smile shading more toward embarrassment. “Cough syrup. I figured it knocks me out every time, should do the same for you. I gave you less than I take, but you’re so tiny that I must’ve still gone overboard. I couldn’t believe it worked– I thought for sure you’d notice that I doctored your gross fizzy tea. You drink it every night and you didn’t notice that it tasted like cough syrup? Shit must be nasty. Can’t imagine why you’d put yourself through that.” His nose crinkles in disgust, and I feel oddly defensive.

“It’s called kombucha. It has probiotics in it, which makes it good for gut health. If you have a healthy gut, you’ll have a healthy everything else.” I close my mouth, mad at myself. What about this man makes me want to correct him about everything all of the time?

Landon rolls his eyes. “I poop just fine without it. Must be a human frailty. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Do you… uh… have any questions?”

Oh, do I have questions. Landon is clearly out of his depth and making shit up as he goes along. “A few. Why am I here? Where are we? What do you plan to do with me? When can I leave? Is anyone else working with you? Start with those. Please.” If I get enough information from him, maybe I can find out something that will help me escape. It shouldn’t be too hard– someone like Landon is bound to have forgotten something vital. Hopefully it’s something that will help me instead of hurting me.

Landon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “A few, huh? Should’ve seen that coming. Okay, so, you’re here so you can’t stir up any more shit with my pack, we’re in the woods on a mountain, and you can leave when we figure out what to do about this mess you made.”

I take a couple of deep breaths. “And what do you plan to do with me? I’m not letting that one go.”

Landon tilts his head to the right and squints slightly. “Well… I guess we could just hang out for a bit. Do some brainstorming. I hadn’t planned any activities or anything. Your apartment didn’t look like you have any hobbies– which is sad, by the way– but I got you some books and I guess I could pick up some yarn or whatever if you want to take up knitting…?” He trails off, confusing himself.

“I’m glad I don’t have to worry about being a sex slave, at least. That was my main worry when I found I had been kidnapped and woke up in an unfamiliar bed.” I don’t manage to cut the sarcasm. I usually have great control over my emotions, but I have to admit these are extraordinary circumstances.

Landon’s shoulders slide down the door a few inches. Surprise almost takes him out at the knees. “A sex slave? Sweet fuck, Cora, no way! Is that what you think of me? Damn. You do have a hobby– you’ve got cynicism down to its own art form.”

I close my eyes for a second. “I couldn’t know you were the one that took me when I first woke up, could I? And I don’t need hobbies. My hobby is my writing, and I make a living off of it. I’ve worked hard to make it that way.”

His brow crinkles. “Yeah, at the cost of everything else in your life. Why are you like this, Cora?”

Why, indeed.