Read The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series) for Free Online Page B

could only last so long. Once the men were out of view, the tears returned, barely giving warning before rushing down her face once more.
                  She couldn’t understand what had just happened, what was still happening. It felt like a nightmare, like some hellish dream from which she couldn’t wake up. She sat in the chair because she couldn’t stand up; she needed to stand up because she needed to leave; she couldn’t leave because she was trapped in some fairy-tale tower in the forests of Australia. Only it wasn’t a fairy tale; it was a horror story.
                  A picture of Maggie seeped into her clouded mind. What would she make of all of this? Would she even notice that Callie was gone? Would she only realize her sister’s absence when there was no one to wipe her mouth at night, or to put her to bed, or to bring her a glass of water when she woke up and was sick? Callie began to doubt that Maggie could survive another loss. The first two had nearly killed her.
                  The woman walked away from Callie then, leaving the room. Callie wiped her eyes on her wrists, having forgotten until that moment that there was another person present. But she needn’t have bothered to hide the tears. The woman didn’t even spare her a glance.
                  She looked behind her. The couch which she had noticed before was now made up with two long pillows and a cotton blanket. A fit of exhaustion consumed her at the sight, and she forced herself to stand up and trudge, barely seeing anything around her, over to the couch. She collapsed atop the blanket and pillows with a sigh and a sniffle, her heart sinking when she realized that this was where she would spend the night.
                  Maggie’s face stared at her in her mind’s eye. She needed to get back home. The longer she stayed away, the more likely Maggie was to fall apart.
                  The thoughts were crossing her mind at a sluggish pace now, and soon disappeared completely. Callie rolled into the couch, nestling into the deep cushions, and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before the darkness consumed her.
     
                  When Callie woke up, she didn’t recognize the white tweed in front of her. She ran her fingers along the bumpy fabric, trying to make sense of it. She rolled over, realizing briefly that she was on a couch.
                  The wooden floor was what did it. As soon as she saw those planks, the memories of last night swooped into her mind with stunning clarity, and she felt a swift moment of panic. Her muscles froze, contracting in horror, as she replayed the scenes. She groaned and rolled further onto her other side, facing away from the back of the couch. And then she winced when she remembered that she actually had to cooperate with these…whatever they were called. They still didn’t seem real.
                  But she wasn’t short on reminders of their existence. Almost as soon as she had rolled onto her side, she gasped.
                  There, standing against the wall, was the blond man from last night. He was in the same stance which he’d been in the last time she had seen him, his arms folded, his face expressionless. He leaned backwards against the wooden panels, watching her, always watching her.
                  Self-conscious and startled, Callie drew the blanket around her as a sort of shield. His expression didn’t change; he barely blinked. This lack of emotion evoked traces of anger left over from the night before, every piece of which was now solely focused upon him.
                  “Do you make a habit of creeping up on people?” she snapped. He didn’t reply. She saw that he hadn’t changed his clothes, at least not that she could tell. He still wore a pair of white, loose-fitting pants which hung down to his ankles. No shirts were allowed in this