Captive *Complete*

Chapter Three

Ethan Miller.

Ethan did not care about the food that was getting cold on the table, nor did he care about his leg that was protesting in pain. He was in such panic state that he blocked all his senses and limped through the cabin, looking for a way out. He pondered on the fact that Wyatt didn’t trust him, which was why he locked the door. But Ethan couldn’t neglect that there could be another reason, as in Wyatt being the killer all along.

He checked the bathroom first, which had no windows. His pants were indeed soaking in the tub, changing the clear water into this yellow-brownish color, the scent of vinegar was so overwhelming, forcing him to close the door. He frowned, looking around the small cabin, his eyes fixated on the second closed door. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain he was feeling, trying the doorknob. Ethan wasn’t surprised to find the door locked.

Great, he huffed under his breath, wincing as he moved back to the living room, trying his luck with the only window in the room. Like the door, the window was either bolted shut or jammed, Ethan couldn’t tell which, as it didn’t budge.

He sighed, defeated, and eyed the room warily, feeling more anxious than before. He remembered what Wyatt told him about the end table by the couch, and he hastily checked it to find that he told him the truth, and the drawer had his wallet and gun. He checked the pistol quickly to find all his four bullets were still there.

Ethan chuckled happily, relieved that he still had something to defend himself with. He quickly hid it under the pillow on the couch and checked the food that was served on the table.

It could be poisoned, but his stomach growled violently, and he would need more energy to run if it got to that extent.

The stew was incredibly good, and Ethan savored every ingredient it contained. Wyatt was a great cook for a hunter. He felt full after finishing his meal and a little giddy as well. He cleaned the table and walked to the small kitchen, only to feel his feet wobble.

The room started spinning around, and he reached for anything to sustain his balance, only failing miserably and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"He drugged me." He whispered sleepily.

Ethan Willis shifted slightly on the couch, adjusting his leg, which was propped on the end of the couch and resting on a pillow, trying to find a comfortable position.

"I told you to rest, not to move around the cabin and open up your wound." Came the calm and cold voice that made Ethan jolt a bit in surprise. His leg had a fresh bandage, and he just noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt this time.

"If you haven't drugged me, I wouldn't fall my ass off on the floor." He retorted, and Wyatt looked amused by the smirk on his face.

"If I didn't give you the medicine, your injury would've gotten infected. Is it my fault that you are so nosy?"

Ethan ignored the question. "Look, we both know that I need to get on my feet as soon as possible."

It was already afternoon, and Ethan was more than little disgruntled that he'd slept through the morning totally against his will. He tried to keep his discomfort and wary to a minimum around him, but the fear of what was coming made it impossible.

Wyatt had a firm gaze on him, that made Ethan look away awkwardly.

“I know you do, Ethan. Do you mind if I call you Ethan?”

He didn’t find the courage to refuse as he reluctantly shook his head, saying. “Ethan is fine. I only know your first name anyway.”

He looked with anticipation at the man and couldn’t help but slightly pout when he didn’t fall for his trap and say his full name.

“Wyatt is fine.” His lips curved upward, and his eyes narrowed in a bit of mischief. “I know that you need to get better and on your feet at the earliest possible, but you are the one who’s slowing your recovery. If only you’d listen to me.”

Ethan looked away, grumbling. “Fine, I’ll listen.”

He heard him chuckle, making him more irritated. Ethan, after a brief silence, breathed in and out to calm himself.

"So, did you find out anything?" He tried to assure Wyatt that he didn't suspect him.

The other one just hummed and didn't go into detail.

"So?"

Wyatt just shrugged and handed him a shirt, making aware again of his bare chest. Ethan lifted the blanket upward a bit, blushing, and he felt himself heat up more when the other chuckled at his innocent reaction.

"He's still at his cabin.” Wyatt went on. “He seems like he forgot about you, or he just didn't think you would've survived. What matters is that he isn't outside looking for you, which gives me time to fix my truck and take you to the sheriff's office."

His expression was emotionless as usual, but his eyes held something that Ethan couldn't pinpoint. Was it hurt or sincerity? Whatever it was, it made Ethan reconsider his doubts. Maybe this was all a coincidence that raised his suspicion. So far, this guy hadn't done anything wrong, except for helping him, feeding him, and nourishing him to heal.

"Did I thank you for digging that bullet out?" Ethan asked, watching him.

His expression remained serene when he glanced at him.

"A couple of times, but you were pretty out of it, especially after I gave you something for the pain."

He giggled, and it was so melodic in Ethan’s ears.

"You even said that my tattoos look hot." The smile on his face took Ethan off guard and made a certain rush fill his body.

Ethan chuckled awkwardly."Really?!"

"Ah-huh." Wyatt hummed with a goofy grin. "And you started singing YMCA while I was giving you a sponge bath."

Ethan felt embarrassed and looked away from Wyatt’s intense gaze, mumbling an apology.

"What are you apologizing for?" The other said with a smirk. "You have a very sexy voice."

He winked when Ethan looked up, then stood up, walking towards the kitchen. Ethan felt his whole body on fire, flushed from embarrassment, struck by a weird feeling at this man's words.

Was he flirting?

"Are you sure that the Mad Vigilante won't cause us any problems?" He asked, trying to cover for his embarrassment.

He noticed how Wyatt’s body stiffened at the mention of that deranged killer.

"I told you. There was no sign of him venturing to the outside, so we're safe."

"A monster like him is unpredictable," Ethan stated, and Wyatt turned to look at him with a blank, cold stare that sent a cold shiver through his body. The friendly aura diminished and was replaced by hostility.

"If you don't mind me asking, Ethan, why is he a monster? Why is he different than all those killers out there?"

How did the mood change from platonic flirting to threatening hostility, Ethan would never know? He just said what he genuinely believed, and somehow it offended his host.

Wyatt was really making it difficult for him not to suspect him.

"All killers are monsters. Someone who coldly takes away innocent lives is a ruthless beast that needs to be banished from this earth."

Wyatt’s expression turned stoic again.

"I totally agree, Ethan, and he should, but did you wonder why the police asked you only to track and report? Why they specifically requested you not to kill him?"

Ethan has never thought about it. It was odd that they kept insisting on that point.

Don't hurt a killer, a felon and a fugitive.

It was an odd request, and Ethan didn't contemplate on it before, but now that Wyatt pointed it out, it seemed odd. And not to forget the fact that they didn't share more details about the killer. Liam and Brandon always said something about how they were too busy to fish it out, or it was too brutal for Ethan’s 'innocent' eyes to see. And he didn’t need more information to follow through his mission, Ethan didn’t probe much on it.

Ethan looked at Wyatt, who was now preparing something in the kitchen and rubbed his head furiously, trying to figure out what was the story of this man, this guardian angel that saved him from imminent death. The stranger that offered him his place, his food, and medical supplies, and asked nothing in return. Yet, being this mysterious and shady about the whole story of that fugitive, made it hard to clear him out as a suspect.

Ethan closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. All he needed now was to think carefully about the case and find something that could prove this man's innocence. He had no idea why he wanted so bad to prove that Wyatt wasn't the killer. Maybe because this man did nothing but be kind the whole time, or probably because he took a liking to him as a friend. Maybe, even after this whole ordeal, they could become good friends.

He opened his eyes when he heard a dog barking outside. He looked at Wyatt with wide googly eyes, fearing that maybe the killer has decided it was time to look for him after all. His host didn't look fazed at all. He watched how he calmly wiped his hand in a kitchen cloth before looking out of the jammed window to see who it was. His body tensed up a bit, and he turned to look at Ethan with the same dark gaze.

"I am going to see who is here. Don't you dare move. I don't want to come back and find your leg all bloody again."

The commanding tone made Ethan swallow thickly, feeling a bit of guilt. He watched how he turned off the burner and slid into his warm jacket before leaving through the front door with his wolf following. He didn't hear the alarming click this time, which meant that Wyatt didn't lock the door. His curiosity amplified, and he bit his thumb nervously. He could just give it a quick peek and check his whereabouts, maybe even clear his suspicions, and prove this guy's innocence by looking outside the cabin.

He wore the shirt Wyatt gave him and looked around for any pants if they were laid out for him, but there was none. He carefully pushed his leg away from its comfort, grunting once his leg touched the ground, and limped to the living room window.

He could only see the snowy ground and thick forest trees that would get even the best of trackers lost amongst them. He reached for the doorknob with a shaky hand and paused.

What if Wyatt came back now and found me trying to snoop around? he thought, but he didn't let it discourage his curiosity. He pushed the wooden door open. The frostbite that bruised his skin made him let out a shuddered breath. His whole body shivered, and it was so hard for him not to close the door and go back to the warmth of his blanket. There was a small porch with a wooden swing and three steps to the frosty ground. He took a few steps outside to the porch and studied his surroundings. Except for the woodchopper and a frozen well, nothing seemed to clear Ethan’s doubts. It was the same place he saw the Mad Vigilante hiding in.

Could it be that this place has cabins that looked similar?

He kept trying to check for other things that could give him an idea about the man's sincerity. He walked to the left of the porch, and there he saw it. The same yellow axe wedged in a tree trunk. The same place that fugitive left it when he spotted him. He gulped loudly and shivered; this time, it wasn't from the icily cold weather. The shiver that ran through his body was of sheer fear, knowing that he had been a guest of the Mad Vigilante this whole time.

In a panic, Ethan started limping hastily towards the door. He needed to get his gun and prepare to fight for his life. Although Wyatt looked slim, he was sure that he had some muscles. His figure was built like an athletic swimmer, and it was going to be a hard brawl that Ethan needed to win.

He scolded himself while walking inside.

"I should always trust my guts." He mumbled under his breath. "I knew he was the killer and yet kept proving myself wrong."

You i***t.

He reached for his gun under the pillow, and of course, it wasn't there. Wyatt must have found it and hid it someplace else. He cursed himself for being stupid and following his insatiable stomach that had left him vulnerable, losing consciousness for the guy to find his gun.

He looked around, and just now, he noticed that the front door wasn't the only door that Wyatt has left unlocked, but the second door in the cabin was now unlocked and ajar. He strolled towards it, his leg protesting in pain from the hectic movement. His clean white bandage now had a fresh red spot on it. The stitches were evidently open by now, but he couldn't care. He needed to get out or find a way to defend himself.

He pushed the second door open to reveal a cozy bedroom with plain blue bedding, a small closet, and a dresser. He checked the drawers of the dresser for something to hold as a weapon, but there was nothing but boxers and briefs. The second one had socks and a pair of broken handcuffs. He grabbed them and studied them. They sure didn't look like any kind of kinky handcuffs that some selective people with peculiar fetishes would buy in a s*x store. The handcuffs looked real, and by the damage, he was sure as hell these were real cuffs; NC police department cuffs.

He closed the drawers and looked through the closet. He found sweatpants that looked big enough to fit him. He hurriedly put them on and grabbed a jacket that looked warm for this weather. Behind the jacket was the blue hoodie that the Mad Vigilante was famous by. There was no doubt that this man was the killer, not Like Ethan doubted himself this time. Just seeing that axe made it clear for him.

He checked under the pillows and the bed, hoping to find his gun and gave up once he heard the barking again. Muffled voices accompanied that canine sound. He approached the bedroom window and listened to the conversation that was between Wyatt and another guy.

"Thanks for your help, son. Anyway, I will leave you to your serenity. If you hear anything or see that man, please come find me."

"Don't worry, Sheriff. I hope that investigator is alright. And if there is anything to help you with, please don't feel shy to ask."

The word Sheriff ranged in Ethan’s head, cutting deep through his conscious. The police were looking for him. For sure Liam had sent people to find him after he didn't report in, and this asshole was keeping him in the dark.

He didn't want to ponder anymore and get himself killed. He opened the curtains and saw the receding figure of the sheriff walking to his truck. Wyatt standing with his back to the window with his wolf right by his side. He knew his screams would be futile from here, and by the time he'd get out, the sheriff would've left, but he could sure try.

He limped to the front door and heard the rumbling of the truck. He was already sweating from all the hard activity he forced his leg into, panting, and he stepped outside on the snowy ground with his bare feet.

There was no time for him to register the pain when he heard a click, and the metal claw punctured his soft skin, for sure breaking through the bones of his foot. He screamed like an animal when they'd get trapped in one of these, crying an eerie sound that sent shivers through any human soul; A cry that proved nothing but the fear the animal was experiencing, knowing that their time had come.

The bear trap clapped his leg, confining his movement. The pain itself was indescribable. Ethan felt his throat become dry and tasted iron in his mouth by how hard he bit his tongue to suppress the pain.

To his demise, he heard the truck leaving, the growling of the wolf behind him, and the cold, sinister voice of his kidnapper.

"Now, Ethan, what do you think I should do to you?"