First Impressions

Chapter XXV: A Light in the Darkness

It must have been a good two hours before anything tumultuous happened again. Rowlett and his crew had left me soon after they came, but only after confirming the news that I had dreaded.

They were using me as bait. To lure Ashton in.

That was why they had taken my flannel and smeared blood across it. That was why Josh had disappeared for a few hours. That was why he had returned with a swollen lip. And that was why my gut had been tied into knots for the past two hours.

If Ashton were smart, he would stay as far away from here as possible, but I somehow doubted he'd do that. He was no coward—something I almost wished he was right now. If he were a coward, he would stay away. He would stay safe. He would not get involved in whatever Rowlett's gang had in mind. I guessed it had something to do with that "one last job" Rowlett had mentioned at the archeology museum. And it probably involved drugs.

I had inferred enough these past few weeks to gather that Ashton had been at his worst last year, and now he was reforming. If that were indeed the case, then Rowlett's plans proved to be a major stumbling block in Ashton's path. And if those plans came into being, I was going to be instrumental in the destruction of Ashton Savvonski.

My teeth must have been clenched, for when I moved them suddenly, a jolt of pain pierced my jaw. Cringing, I tried to bring a hand to my face, but the metal binding my arms would not permit me to do so.

"Stupid nerves," I sighed into the darkness, hardly remembering the last time my voice had sounded this shaky. I must have been more anxious than I thought—which was unfortunate, considering the worst was surely yet to come.

I prayed that Ashton would have the sense to not come. I pleaded with the foul air that I would get through this without him. I hoped that he would not listen to these psychopaths.

For all of five minutes, my otherwise cold body worked itself into an anxious sweat. Part of me swore that I had a chance. The other part knew better. And yet, it was only when I heard the voices and the commotion outside of my room that I realized just how doomed I was—how doomed we were.

Somehow I blacked out again. This time, I could not seem to remember who had knocked me out or when, but it hurt just the same. When I came to, my blinking eyes scanned more unfamiliar surroundings.

I was no longer in the room with the popping orange light, and this new room smelled less of rotten eggs. This room was smaller, with crude wall markings and dim crimson lights. Most important to me was the absence of the metal chair.

I was lying next to something, but it was not an ice-cold chair. As my mind returned to the events preceding my last blackout, I realized just what it was. Or who it was.

Hardly daring to make a sound, but not wishing to remain quiet, I turned to the boy sprawled out on the floor next to me and whispered, "Ash?"

It only took a second to gather that he was out cold. My breath stopped momentarily, but for some reason, I felt a small thread of hope. I had prayed and pleaded that he would not come, but now that he was here, I could hardly help but feel relieved.

That didn't stop me from wincing when I saw his bruised and bloody face. Pulling myself into a sitting position and trying my best to ignore the pain in my own skull, I drew closer to Ash and brought my hands to his face.

His skin burned under my hands, which was odd, considering this room was not much warmer than the last one. I scooted closer and gently lifted his head onto my lap. "Wake up, you idiot."

Of course, he didn't respond. "Why did you come here?" I whispered, tracing a finger along his burning forehead. "Why did you listen to Josh? Why didn't you just—"