He wants me compliant. That much is obvious. I'm sure two hundred dollars isn't much to a man like him, and I actually think he gave me more than that. But if he thinks he can buy my silence, he's got another thing coming.

It isn't just because it's money that I want it. I want it because it's mine. I earned it. I worked hard for it. Every dollar that didn't go to supporting the family went into that coffee can.

The thought of them taking it is just another slap in my face. I keep telling myself that Joey isn't a bad guy, yet here I am paying for his mistakes. My eyes try to work up more tears, and I realize that I don't have any left. My throat is dry too. I'm probably dehydrated now.

Fucking great. Add that to my list of things to do.

Peeking my head out of the bathroom door, I survey his room. It's huge and decorated in tones of cream and white. Either he has amazing taste or he hired someone to make it look this way. My guess is on the latter, because everything about this place screams money.

That's a thought that sets my teeth on edge. He clearly has money, yet he took me anyway. Why? Just to prove a point?

"Thanks, but I don't need this," I say, tossing the money to him on the bed. "Seems like you're hard up for cash anyway if you had to steal a fucking innocent girl."

He doesn't even spare me a glance. "You're worth a lot more than 80k, baby. Don't ever forget that."

What the fuck does that mean? Is he planning on selling me? Is that a threat or a compliment?

He's resting against the headboard, just like he was hours ago when I left. I'm assuming it's been hours, I don't have any way to tell time. For all I know, I could have been here ten minutes. Either way, it feels like an eternity.

When I clear my throat, he looks up from his phone.

"Can I have some water?"

He nods and looks back down at the screen. I stand in the doorway awkwardly. After a moment of silence, I sigh and head for what I think is the door that leads to the hallway. There's a third door that I assume is a closet.

"Where are you going?" he asks disinterestedly.

"I want some water," I say, trying to match his drawl.

Just then there's a knock at the door. I freeze and back away. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch him for a reaction. He sighs and leans forward, "open the door," he tells me and reluctantly, I do.

A guy who looks close to my age stands on the other side with two Yeti Tumblers. He holds them out and smiles, looking between Wulf and I. Why the fuck is he smiling like that?

I snatch the cups and slam the door when I realize what he thinks he saw. We've been here in this room for who knows how long. He's shirtless, lounging in bed like a fucking sex god. Looking down, my face burns red. I've been without a bra this whole time, the outline of my body very obvious under this shirt.

Resisting the urge to dump the water on him, I set his cup down on the nightstand and hurry into my room, the bathroom, and make myself comfortable.

In the morning, I wake up stiff as hell. My twin mattress at home is old and uncomfortable, but it beats the hell out of a rug. At least I have cold water to drink, though. The silver tumbler is still ice cold from the night before.

Light shines in through the window in a perfect glowing square cast over me. I yawn and stretch, and try to figure out what I'm going to wear. I could shower in my pajamas, I guess? Then they'd be clean. Does it really matter if I have clean clothes, though? It's not like I'm going anywhere.

He must have come in here at some point because there's a fresh towel folded on the counter. Resting on top of it is the money I refused last night. How generous.

Unlike last night, the house seems silent this morning. There's no more music, no more raging fire, no more drunken shouts. Birds actually chirp outside.

I'm trying to be quiet. Not that I care about being respectful of his sleeping schedule, but if he is asleep, then I might be able to sneak around. If I can sneak around, maybe I can find a way out of here. Or at least find a way to call my dad and let him know that I'm okay. Sort of.

It's all for nought, though. He isn't here. The bed is neatly made and there's a pile of stuff laid on it.

I realize it's my stuff. Dashing forward, I pick through the neat pile. The note laid on top reads, say thank you to Rod and Brick. Everything I told him about last night is here. My cell phone, my laptop, even my coffee can. I pry it open to make sure there's no money missing and sure enough, it's all there. All two hundred dollars.

Scurrying into the bathroom, I gather the money he gave me and shove it inside. Then, like a squirrel burying acorns, I look around the room for a safe place to hide my canister.

Finding the closet, I look around for a secret spot. There's a safe tucked against the wall, so I decide to put it next to that. On the floor, behind a row of suits, I push it back where it's barely visible.

The only thing they didn't bring were clothes. That's okay. With the money he gave me, I'll get something new. I don't have a toothbrush or any hair ties either, but at least it's a start. I'm trying to cling to the little things. That's the only way I'll keep from going fucking crazy.