Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 243 Lisa: Strange Introductions

LISA

Wherever I am, it's huge.

We've taken at least three or four turns, and I've already forgotten how to get back. Was it left first, or right? The last turn was to our right. Wait… was it?

Shit.

Every time I lag behind, trying to map this place in my head—which is little better than a toddler's scribbling at this point, with my confusion over lefts and rights—the tiny woman turns and scolds me, telling me to pick up my feet.

Before, I would have given her some sort of smartass comment and maybe even slowed down.

But now, my body feels cold sweat at the idea of making her angry. Even if I'm a prisoner, at least I'm a clean and comfortable prisoner here. I don't want to go back to the previous standard of kidnapping.

So I shut my mouth and hurry behind, wondering how she can be so freaking fast with such tiny legs. She's probably the size of a kindergartener, but faster than a full-grown adult.

What bizarre witchcraft is that?

I force myself to focus on the path ahead, ignoring the endless parade of closed doors lining these stark corridors. No pictures, no decorations, not even a potted plant breaks up the monotony. Just door after identical door, their handles gleaming dully in the harsh overhead lighting.

The silence is oppressive. Our footsteps echo off the bare walls, amplifying the sound until it feels like we're being followed by an army. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder.

"Keep up," my tiny guide snaps for what feels like the hundredth time.

I lengthen my stride, closing the gap between us. Seriously though, how can someone so small move so fast?

We round another corner, and I blink in surprise. Windows. Actual windows line this hallway, letting in natural light.

Wow.

The sun.

it in

a good look outside, my guide veers sharply to the right. She pushes open a set

wall. I

surrounds us on all sides, climbing trellises and spilling

my skin. My simple cotton outfit,

guide marches ahead, seemingly unbothered by the giant blanket of warmth pressing down on us. I trail after her, trying not to trip over the uneven

into this indoor jungle, a thought strikes

realization freezes me in place. I could turn around right now and bolt. My guide is tiny.

But then what?

no idea where I am or how to get out of this place. Those endless, identical corridors would become a maze. I'd be caught

what punishment would await me

fantasy of freedom and hurry to

a secluded area of the greenhouse, where an equally diminutive old man sits at a table. His beard cascades to his feet, and he

sized for

some kind of booster that gets him

I'm too worried about

into a chair. I stumble, barely catching myself as I fall into the seat. The woman bows to the old man and vanishes,

greenhouse's humid air clings to my skin, making me acutely aware of every bead of sweat forming on my body. I shift in my seat, wishing it was easier to breathe in this weather. Actually, I'm just wishing to

not anywhere. Would rather not be in

puts me at ease. A sense of warmth, of friendliness, radiates from him. It's as if I've known him for years, though I'm certain we've never

I've been through, I should be on high

safety—it has to be some kind of trick. Maybe they've drugged me. Maybe this whole setup is designed to lull me into a false

into the arms of the chair as I force myself to stay alert. I won't fall for whatever

internal struggle. I study him, searching for

struck by the intensity in his eyes. They're old eyes, yes, but sharp and clear, almost terrifying with the way they seem

voice surprisingly strong and deep for such a small man.

jolt through me. How does he know who I am? A thousand