She sneered at the metal cuffs around her wrists as she yanked at her chain in frustration. She searched the room, as far as the chain would allow, but there was nothing useful. She hadn't expected there to be.

"Fuck." She whispered. She didn't know how much time she had, but she knew she couldn't be here when they came back.

Her stomach gave a low growl, but she ignored it. Being hungry didn't bother her. Being tired, thirsty, hot, hungry, beaten, bruised... those were all things she could handle. But the room was freezing cold. She hated being cold, and he knew it. Bastard!

She pulled at the chains again, as her body gave an involuntary shudder. She was now seriously considering breaking her wrist in order to slip free of her shackles. It would hurt, but she could handle that. What she couldn't risk was having to fight her way out of trouble with a broken wrist. I'd have to break both of them to get out of these, she thought, and then what will I do? Pick the locks with my teeth? "Fuck!" she said a little louder. Her nose was running, and her hands and feet were like ice. She hissed out an icy breath to try to calm her building temper. If I ever get out of here I'm going to hunt down that slimy, no good, son-of-a- CLICK

Keira's narrowed gaze whipped around to the steel door, her body crouched down, every muscle on alert. But the door didn't open. Someone was trying to get in, but they obviously didn't have a key. She heard a fist slam violently against the door, and two voices muttering in anger. She was too far away and the door was too thick for Keira to make out any words. What the hell? No way did he lock himself out. Not a chance. There were a couple minutes of silence and then she heard the dull, resounding crunch of a sledgehammer being wielded at the door. Idiots! She wasn't sure if the door was wired or not. Nonetheless she was now certain that she didn't know whoever was on the other side. Even if he had locked himself out, he would never have succumbed to such crude methods of breaking in. How many times had he told her? He was an artist, a connoisseur.

She cringed as the idiots swung again, this time managing a small dent on Keira's side of the door. If the door was wired, we'd all be dead by now. At this rate, it was going to take them hours to get through. She also didn't know if they were 'friendly' or not. A smirk graced her lips and she positioned herself on the cold, hard floor. The only body part visible from the entrance was one small bruised hand. The rest of her body was hidden behind a large oak desk. If she decided not to be grateful, the unfortunate souls with the sledgehammer would be dead the second she was freed from the icy cold, god-awful cuffs.

Author Notes: Be patient, we'll get there.