Chapter 2

For the next few hours, | watch the clock in the small room they have locked in. I'ddrunkk my small paper cup of water hours ago, and I've counted every tiny crack | can find in the plastered walls at least ten times. Just when I'm at the point of driving myself completely insane by mentally replaying what happened with Jenna over and over again, the door opens. The male officer that I'd seen in my dorm room earlier walks in and takes the seat opposite at the table. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Banks,” he says, laying a paper folder out on the table. He opens it and begins to read through it in silence. The seconds tick by, and | start to get fidgety in my seat at the uncomfortable silence. Just as | open my mouth to break the silence, the door opens again, and a tall man wearing an expensive-looking suit walks in holding a briefcase. The man looks in an assessing way. He is extremely good-looking and exudes dominance in a way that makes him hard to look at. “Is this her?” he says in an almost snort, jerking his chin in my direction. “Yes, Sir,” the police officer nods, motioning for the newcomer to sit next to him. He takes his seat and reads through the paperwork the officer hands to him. | study his face as he reads. He's one of those ageless guys. His serious, no-bullshit demeanour makes him seem like he’s much older, but his face is young. My guess is he could be anywhere between twenty and forty. He must feel looking at him, as his eyes flick up to mine over the paper, and he holds my gaze. Everything screams to look away, to break eye contact, but | don’t. | won't be bullied by a stuck-up detective. His eyes grow intense and then | swear | see the flash of a smirk before he slams his hand down on the table, making them jump back in fright. “Are you trying to challenge Miss Banks?” he asks in a deeper voice than he’d used with the other officer. “Challenge you?” | snort and raise an eyebrow, trying to use my attitude to mask how much he had scared me. “I suggest you learn to submit, and quickly, because at the place you are going, the people won't be as tolerant as | am,” he says, closing the folder and putting it into his briefcase before turning to the officer and nodding. My heart pounds in my chest, and panic grips as | watch the two men shake hands. “I'll take her from here,” the stuck-up detective tells the officer. “No,” | manage to rasp out. “Please, | didn’t mean to hurt her. | can’t go to prison. | can’t!... Don’t | get a solicitor?... A phone call?” | plead with the officer as he leaves the room. | turn my attention back to the suited man. “PleaPleasesir, it was an accident,” | sob. “Not so tough now, are we?” he smirks at me. “Let's go, Miss Banks. We have a very busy schedule and don’t have time for your tears,” he sighs and heads towards the door. | remain seated, frozen in fear and shock. “You have two seconds to follow me, otherwise | will leave you here and let the police throw you in prison,” he snaps. “Wait, what?” | gasp and turn to look at him. He gestures to the open doorway he is standing in, and without too much thought | I scramble to my feet and rush to his side. “That's what | thought,” | hear him remark under his breath. He walks down the corridor with large strides that | struggle to keep up with. “Where are we going?” | whisper to him as we pass police officers who don’t seem to pay any attention to us. He ignoreslike the rude asshole that he is, and doesn’t even look atuntil we reach the elevator. He presses the button and turns to facewhilst we wait for the doors to open. “Tell me, Miss Banks, are you prone to panic attacks?” He asks. “Huh?” | respond, a little taken aback at this whole situation. “Your file says you passed out from a suspected panic attack at the scene, and you seem to be on the brink of another panic attack now. So what | am asking, little girl, is if I'm going to have to hold your hand through our journey?” He snarks. Anger flares at his words. “Well, I'm sorry, Mr Perfect, I've had a hell of a day, so excuse me if I'm a little upset!” | hiss at him, crossing my arms to let him know how much of a badass | am. He gives another of his barely there smirks and a nod in what seems like approval. The elevator dings at that moment, signalling the doors opening, and he steps forward without another word. | follow the smarmy asshole in and stand beside him. | watch as the doors close, with a strange sense that they're closing on my old life. “Collins,” he says, snapping out of my strange thoughts. I turn to give him a questioning look. “It's Mr Collins,” he says in a barely there whisper as he steps dangerously close and looks down at me. So close that when | take a breath, my chest touches his. The air suddenly feels charged as | stare up into Mr Collins’ eyes. The arm holding the briefcase snakes around my back and pulls flush against his, causing me to gasp. Holy shit balls, this man is hot. He brings up his other hand and gently strokes my cheek with a secret smile, then in a flash, he grips my chin hard. “Sleep,” he demands, his eyes flashing blue as he speaks. My last thought before my body shuts down is that I'm going to knee this jerk in the balls as soon as | get the opportunity.