Chapter 89
[SAMANTHA’s Point of View]
It was so dark and cold.
I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t move. It felt as if I was underwater, only I wasn’t. I was trapped but I wasn’t sure where exactly. What I was sure of was that I wasn’t at home. The smell was musky. The place felt strange—as if something moldy was surrounding me. I was lying on something metallic. It was hard and cold, and I shivered. The feeling was not because of the temperature but because I knew I was in danger. I was tied tightly against something that I imagine was like a hospital bed, restricting me from getting up.
Something itchy made me cough, and I retched at the stench somewhere. It smelled more like rotting flesh, a sensation I couldn’t quite place. I grimaced as I whimpered in pain. Every inch of me ached, and I wondered how long I had been out unconscious in this place. A soft groan escaped from my lips as I tried to lift my head and open my eyes slowly, carefully.
Just as I expected, the room was pitch black, but my werewolf eyes adapted to the darkness quickly, like night vision. I was in a small room lying on an operating bed with my hands tied with thick silver chain against the bed. The rotting scent came from a dead rat in one corner of the room, and my stomach turned, making my head dizzy.
“W-what—” I whimpered as I looked at my hand; the adrenaline slowly subsided and the pain arrived at me, making me feel like I was in a train wreck. I moved my wrist, but the gashes burned like hell as the silver chains grazed my skin.
I made my hearing sharper just to get any noise that could make me determine where I was. But the only thing I heard as I fought to breathe was the sound of the trickling water somewhere. I looked around, and there was water dripping down the dilapidated ceiling. The place looked like an old building with molds and rotting parts everywhere. And I doubt I was in Silver Crest because I didn’t know a place that seemed as old as this place.
“D-Dominic...” I whimpered his name as tears rolled down my cheeks. The only person I knew who could do a horrible thing like this was Oliva and her father, Richard Bennet. They were the only people who hated me enough to abduct me and incarcerate me away from my mate.
As I struggled to collect myself and think about what happened before everything went black, a silhouette of someone appeared in the dark and grabbed me, dragging me out of the kitchen with his hands covering my eyes and my mouth. I did my best to fight back. I kicked and scratched that person with my long, sharp nails, but it was no use. He or she had overpowered me with a strength that measured like that of an Alpha. Until there was something sharp that stabbed me on the shoulder, and everything turned blurry before I blacked out.