Debra woke up groggily, unsure how long she had been out. The room around her was pitch black, and memories started to rush back.

She remembered that she had been thrown into this dark room by Drake's people.

A sharp pain shot through her arm, causing her to suck in a breath. She instinctively tried to pull her arm away, but a man's voice cut through the darkness. "Don't move."

"Who are you?"

A nurse turned on a flashlight, and Debra squinted against the sudden brightness.

"You've got a fever," the nurse explained, "Mr. Lowe ordered us to treat you."

Debra glanced at the discarded plastic packaging on the floor. It said fever medication.

She relaxed slightly, though her tone remained cold. "How long does Drake plan on keeping me locked up in here?"

"That's up to Mr. Lowe," the doctor said without any emotion. "We don't question his decisions."

Seeing that they were only there to treat her, Debra pressed further. "Is he planning to kill me?"

"If Mr. Lowe wanted you dead, he wouldn't have sent us to help you," the nurse replied.

I need to use the

demand caught the doctor off

do it here? Does Drake have some twisted obsession with watching

up to

permission. I don't mind, as long as he doesn't fear that I'll

Drake arched a brow, surprised

refused, it would imply he had some vulgar interest in watching women use the

grumbled, "Sir, she's getting out of hand. We should teach

Let her

"What?"

let her

it

room. "Mr.

with relief, struggling to her feet as the nurse helped her. She deliberately slowed her

led out

were on the

up!" Peter

at him sullenly. "I don't know

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