Fated Lies (Lies #3) - Ella Miles Page 0,15

dank dungeon.

I lean my head back against the stone wall to try to keep my head from spinning. I can’t remember anything from last night—nothing after Langston left the bedroom to go check on the intruders.

Whatever drugs Langston used are strong.

I move my legs and realize they aren’t chained, just my wrists to each other. After my head stops spinning, I force myself to stand and explore my new room. I’m sure there is no weakness. No hole that I can make bigger. No breakable door. No escape. Not this time. But I still have to check.

My hands trail over the wall as I walk around the room. The room is a circle of stone, and my mind creates a medieval tower. I reach up, but I don’t touch the ceiling. And after I’ve walked for a while, I suspect I’ve walked in a complete circle several times but never found a door.

I frown as I look up. The door must be above me.

“Dammit, Langston! Really? You think you need to lock me up like this to get answers? You coward! Show your face.”

A moan.

My eyes dart back to the ground. There is someone in this room with me.

How did I miss him?

I’ve walked all the way around the room, touching the wall as I go, but I didn’t explore the center of the room.

Carefully, I take a step, then another toward the center. I can’t see anything, but eventually, my foot hits a soft lump, and I stop, dropping to my hands and feet.

“Hello?” I say as I reach out to touch the person.

He moans once again.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Are you injured?”

The man doesn’t answer me, but he slowly sits up. I’m guessing he’s recovering from the same drugs used to knock me out.

I sit patiently by him while he comes to. It’s going to take him a moment to process everything.

Finally, I think we’re face to face. “Liar. You’ve already hurt me. I’m sure you’ll do it again.”

I gasp.

“Langston?”

“Yes, huntress. It’s me.”

I bite my lip as I stare into his golden eyes. It’s dark, but my eyes are slowly adjusting enough to make out the tiny specks of his hair falling over his eyes. It’s Langston, and I have no idea what we are both doing locked in this dungeon together. Maybe he locked us both in here so I would have nowhere to run, no safe place to hide for even a moment between him torturing me for truths.

“Please tell me this is your dungeon,” I say, realizing I’d prefer that to be the truth than the alternative. I can handle Langston as my enemy. I know him. I know what I’m up against. But an unknown enemy—I don’t know how to face that. And if we are really stuck in here together, I don’t want to have to fight with Langston by my side.

He winces as he sits fully upright. “This is my dungeon.”

“Liar,” I breathe.

He curses once again as he tries to move.

“Where are you hurt?” I ask, moving the heavy chains as I reach out to Langston to find the wound.

“Why do you care? If I’m hurt and die, then you win.”

I roll my eyes. “Because I’m stuck in a dungeon with no door. My hands are bound together with a heavy metal chain. Unfortunately, you are my only hope of getting out of here alive. So tell me where you are injured so I can make sure you stay alive long enough to kick our attacker’s ass.”

“I’m not injured. It’s just the drugs. Everything hurts when I move.”

“Wimp,” I say with a smile.

“Yes, I’m a wimp. Sorry, I don’t like pain.”

Now, I’m smiling.

“Are your arms chained?” I ask.

He lifts them, and I hear them rattle together. “Yes.”

“Legs?”

He shifts, and I hear nothing but his feet moving against the stone. “Nope.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath, trying to think. “What do you remember? Who attacked us? Who is holding us captive?”

There’s a beat of silence. “I don’t remember anything after I left you alone in the bedroom.”

I frown. “Nothing?” Is he lying to hide facts from me? So he can escape without me?

“Nothing. Whatever drug we were hit with is strong. We might remember as time goes on. That is, if we live long enough.”

Chills hit me again, and I shudder.

“I’ll live long enough.”

He chuckles. “Not without me, you won’t.”

“Good thing you want to be the one who kills me then instead of me dying from starvation or hypothermia.”

“Good thing.”

“I’ve felt