When Chase came to he had a pounding headache and he found that he was tied down even tighter than before. He felt tears pricking at his eyes as he stared down at his lap, praying that anyone would come and save him.
Orland walked over and lightly smacked his cheek, nudging Chase’s chin upwards to look at him. “You've got guts,” he said, looking vaguely impressed. “You had to have known that wouldn't get you anywhere.”
Chase scowled at him and jerked his face away. “Go to hell,” he bit out, voice raspy and throat sore.
Orland laughed. “Gladly.”
Chase watched Orland walk away, suddenly aware that they were alone again. He had no clue how long he’d been out but he hoped by then the pack would've realized he was missing and gone searching for him. He had a feeling Morgan could sniff him out.