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He’s alive.
It was the first thing that came to mind as soon as I pushed through the layers of fog cloaking my mind and came fully awake. I blinked into the darkness and replayed his words in my head.
“I’m going to kill him slowly. Brutally. Make him wish he’d never met you.”
Matteo had slipped; he’d threatened to kill Eric—which meant he was still alive. My heart leaped with hope and, despite everything, a smile came to my face. I’d thought he was gone, but he was out there somewhere. I knew he’d be looking for me. I needed to get to him before Matteo did.
I lay on my side, my legs drawn up so that my thighs rested against my stomach, and my left arm had fallen asleep. Thank God for small favors. It was back in place, but it still ached like a bitch. I tried to stretch my legs out but the movement was hindered as my feet collided with something hard.
What the hell? Gritting my teeth through the pain, I forced my left arm to move and tried to sit up. Agony speared through me as my head smacked against something hard, and I collapsed to my back. I rubbed at my forehead, trying to get my bearings. It was jet black in here, like it was perpetually night, so I couldn’t see a damn thing.
I tentatively stretched out my arm and my fingers brushed something smooth just inches from my face. My brows drew together as I lifted my other hand and pressed both palms flat against the cool surface. It felt almost like... wood? My mind spun furiously, trying to make the connection, and it finally hit me.
I was in the box.
My heart lurched in my chest, and I sucked in a breath as I slapped my palms against the lid. It didn’t budge. Putting as much force behind the movement as possible, I pushed upward, but it refused to give. My rapid breaths filled my ears, coming much too quickly.
Spurred by the need to get out, I frantically searched the seam where the lid met the sides of the box, searching for any kind of latch or hook. Nothing. My heart rate increased with every second that passed, and disbelief quickly gave way to panic. In the limited space, I kicked against the lid. The sound reverberated in my ears, but the wood refused to give.
For a moment, I paused and focused on the sounds outside the box—or, rather, lack thereof. It was almost deathly silent and still. Had Matteo left me again? I had no idea whether I was still in the room under the church or if he’d transported me somewhere different. Why else put me in a box if he didn’t plan to move me... or bury me.
Oh, God. The thought alone made me sick, and I had to force down the urge to retch. He was going to kill Eric if I couldn’t get out of here. Anger welled up. I was so close! Furious with myself, with Matteo, I pounded my fist on the lid of the coffin.
I beat on the wood with everything I had. I kicked and punched at the lid until my knuckles were sore. Scream after scream ripped from my throat as I clawed at the wood of the too-small box. I knew I was using up valuable oxygen, but I couldn’t stop. I felt crazed, out of control. If I didn’t get out of here, I would die. Eric would die.
Suddenly my throat felt too tight, the air too thick. My head felt fuzzy and I could practically feel the room spinning around me.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
I had to get out of here so I could help Eric. I had to...
My hands fell limply to rest on my stomach, and I closed my eyes, my breathing hard and labored. Depleted of nutrients and past the point of fatigue, my body could only take so much strain. My head rolled to the side as exhaustion claimed me once more, and I gave up the fight to stay conscious.