21.

The room was too cold. Maybe she was trying to freeze me to death, but that didn't make nay sense. If she had wanted me dead, why would she have dug me out of the wreckage of the safe house? Why had she cleaned and bandaged my cuts? Why had she given me a bottle of water?

And where was Trey? She certainly hadn't dug him out of the wreckage. Well, maybe she had, but I still didn't know where he was and that bothered me. Had the house caught on fire? Maybe Trey had burned to death. Maybe he had gotten away. But if he had gotten way, why didn't he come into the wreckage to try to save me? And then, the worst possibility hit me full on. Maybe he had died.

I shook my head vigorously, though it hurt because I was pretty sure that I had a concussion. No, Trey couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. He had saved me from the Circle once and he could do it again. He couldn't be dead. Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't. But I knew that it was a possibility and I shuddered.

Maybe she had killed him because she knew that he was a traitor…

"Don't think about that," I growled to myself, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. I still hadn't quite figured out where I was. The room was pretty ordinary, holding only a bed, dresser, bedside table, and lamp. There was a door to a small bathroom, which I had been allowed to use before being forced to go to bed. I could have been in a hotel, I supposed, but I could have also been in a well-set-up warehouse somewhere in the middle of the forest. I couldn't risk trying to escape until I knew what I was facing; otherwise I wouldn't know how to handle whatever was waiting for me. She could have guards stationed everywhere outside the building. She could have Chihuahuas guarding me for all I knew.

The handcuffs cut into my left wrist and I reached up towards my hair instinctively for a bobby pin before I remembered. She had allowed me to put my hair in a messy bun, but no bobby pins allowed. I was steaming on the inside. I hated her so much, grandmother or not. She was a horrible person and I hoped that she fell off of a rather high cliff someday, into an ocean full of sharks.

I sighed. Wishing for my grandmother's death wasn't going to make it happen and it wasn't getting me any closer to escaping. I tried pulling at the other end of the handcuffs, but the headboard was made of iron and was rather strong. No hope in bending it, really, or breaking it. I was, indeed, stuck. And, of course, she had stuck me as far away as possible from the bedside table as a precaution, though I suspected that the bedside table was devoid of helpful objects anyway.

The one time I wanted someone to underestimate me…

"Think," I muttered to myself. "Think. What would Uncle Solomon do?"

I don't know! A voice in my brain shrieked at me. He would probably already be out of this and home!

But maybe not. Uncle Solomon had told me himself that I was becoming just as good as him and my mother frequently complained that I acted too much like my dad and my Uncle Solomon. So maybe they would be trapped as well, wondering what to do.

I cursed inwardly. I hated being trapped.

Trey's voice sounded in my head. "Get a good night's sleep and make sure you're well rested. Maybe an opportunity for escape will arise in the morning."

That sounded alright with me, especially since my eyelids were growing rather heavy. I settled my head against the pillow and tried to move my handcuffed arm so that it was in a comfortable enough position.

I fell asleep immediately.

When I woke up, I was vaguely aware of the fact that I did feel a little better. I could focus now and I suspected that the room I was in didn't belong in a hotel. So, where then? I didn't have an answer, but I saw a plate of food sitting beside me on the bed. No fork, of course, because we had learned to pick locks with forks in our first year at Gallagher. The food consisted of an apple, a Danish, and a bottle of water. After doing all that I could to check for poison, I ate it all, not realizing how hungry I had been until it was all gone.

I wanted more, actually.

My grandmother came in almost immediately after I was done, which led me to believe that there was a camera somewhere in the room and that someone was monitoring me all of the time. Excellent. The camera would be too small to see with the naked eye from very far away and I didn't have a pinch or anything. I had nothing to help me.

She smiled sweetly at me. "Did you enjoy your breakfast?"

"Not quite."

She didn't care that my voice was cold. She sat down on the edge of my bed and said, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Please skip the niceties," I growled. "You have me chained to a bed."

She shrugged. "Okay, then." She picked up my plate and empty water bottle. She took them away and came back into the room, holding the key to my handcuffs in her hand. She smiled at me and I couldn't tell what emotion lurked there. "You look so much like your father, you know."

I ached for my father.

She unlocked my handcuffs and I thought about fighting her, but two burly guys appeared in the doorway to keep watch and I knew that I wasn't yet strong enough to fight them. Sighing in defeat, I went to the bathroom and took a shower, changing into the new clothes that were laid out for me afterwards.

The whole time I was in the shower, though, I was thinking about my escape. And I had a plan.