Wildfire

Chapters 20

20. Run

When I returned to consciousness, it was like surfacing from a coma. My eyes were glued shut, my lids unbearably heavy, and for a long moment all I could do was lie there and take stock of my injuries. My whole body was stiff, a dull ache emanating from the small of my back, but otherwise I seemed unharmed. My head, however, was another matter. A sharp, throbbing sensation had settled at the base of my skull and it felt like somebody was trying to drill straight through my temples.

I moaned softly and forced my eyes open. It took a few seconds for my vision to focus, and then a fresh wave of pain exploded in the back of my head. I squeezed my eyes shut once more, willing the pain away.

Ohgodohgod. What have you gotten yourself into now, Paige?

My fingers curled into fists and I lay there stiffly, waiting for the pain to pass. I guessed I was lying on a bed. The mattress was lumpy beneath me but the pillow was soft and it smelled kind of like Diego, in a weird, earthy kind of way. Similar, but not quite.

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open once more. The room swam into focus, the floor gradually coalescing into rows of worn, timber planks. I glanced around, absorbing as much of my surroundings as I could before my headache flared up again. I was lying in some sort of old-fashioned bedroom; a Queen Anne vanity stood near the window with white, frilly lace draped over the surface of the wood, and a matching coverlet was draped over my shoulders. The frilly curtains were drawn over the window and a small, ornamental lamp provided the only light in the small room.

Where the hell am I? I wondered, a rush of alarm washing over me.

I struggled to remember how I'd gotten here. All I could recall was standing with Charlie and Killian in Ian's gym, my hands encased in the black pads. The memory of following Charlie back into the changing room rose in my mind, followed by the realisation that I'd been missing my phone.

Then —

Ouch. My hand rose reflexively to touch the back of my head and I hissed as I encountered a small, noticeable bump at the base of my skull. It throbbed painfully beneath my touch.

My heart started to thump unsteadily in my chest as a wave of panic rose in my chest.

Oh god.

I used my hands to push myself up on the bed, ignoring how my head protested. My vision swam as I rose up on my knees and I braced myself against the wall for a few seconds until the dizziness passed. A part of me wanted to lie back down and analyse the situation, to figure out who would want to kidnap me from a kickboxing gym and why — but the stronger, more vocal part of me wanted to figure out how to get the hell out here. The adrenaline was kicking in with a bang, and for once, the over-cautious side of me shut the hell up.

I stumbled off the bed, my feet landing with a soft thump on the wooden floor. It was only then that I realized my shoes were gone, my feet encased in just a pair of socks.

The surge of panic that rushed through my system hit me like a slap across the face. I lunged toward the door, my fingers grabbing at the handle and ripping the door open.

The door swung open without protest — much to my surprise — and I stumbled out into a small, dark hallway. The other doors were closed with no light emanating from beneath them and a narrow staircase led down into the darkness of the floor below.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I stared into the darkness. The house was quiet — too quiet. I had never realized how much difference things like the hum of a fridge made in a dark house; this place felt strange... abandoned. Yet there was no dust, no tell-tale signs that nobody had lived here for years.