Stuck in the Elevator (1)

ALANA

Knight's eyes widened. "Alana?" 

"What are you doing here?" I asked with equal shock. 

"Going to the banquet, what else?" His tone was blunt. Sharp. I had to blink several times to keep from crying. I had missed him so much. "You?"

Before I could muster a response, the elevators lurched. I slammed head-first into Knight, my chest squishing against his, head slamming into his chin so hard, he winced out a curse. A fraction of a second later, the lights went out.

"Oh my God," I breathed, hands still clutching the lapels of his jacket. "I am so sorry." Quickly, scrambling back, I didn't realise I'd bumped into a hard metal. "AHH!!"

"Are you okay?" Knight's huge hands found my bony shoulders. He drew away from my touch as if branded by fire. "Sorry—I didn't—I didn't know that was you—I—"

"It's fine," I sank to the tiled floor, careful not to slam my head again. "Burak, what is going on?" 

Knight—it seemed—knew exactly what to do in a situation like this. As for me, dread had grotesquely coiled into the pits of my stomach, my breathing getting laboured with every second. He rang the emergency button. Nothing. Not even a ping. 

In a flurry of panic I couldn't fathom, he messed around with every single button, clicking them over and over again. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" His leg collided with the whopping stainless-steel rod, making me baulk as the elevators lurched again.

"Phone?" My voice was small, laced with palpable fear. 

From barely-there light, Knight's face was illuminated, outlining the rough cuts of his jawline and sharp cheekbones. His eyes shone like two orbs of actual emeralds, like someone straight from a werewolf movie. He fixed his eyes on me. I wondered how he saw me from where he lurked, so tall and powerful. I looked like a rag doll, sweating profusely and shivering in a tight corner, knees pulled up, chin buried into them as I stared up at him. 

He searched his pocket and only then did I realise when the dreadfulness marred his face that we were really and seriously doomed. He didn't have his phone. 

"I do!" I exclaimed, fishing for my bag and trying to find my mobile. Two seconds later, I dropped the bag to the floor, panic eddying around my every nerve and artery. "B-Burak, I don't—I passed by a crowd and my bag—my bag was open. I think the phone dropped somewhere."

As if he too had realised how doomed we were, he sank to the ground beside me. Unlike me, his legs were stretched out and unlike me, he stared off into nothingness, while I was busy trying to calm my breathing looking at him. 

"It's going to be fine," He whispered. I had a feeling he meant it more for his own peace of mind than mine. "We're going to get out of here once someone realises—when they know I'm missing. They'll search the CCTV cameras and they will find us."

"Okay," I whispered, brows furrowed when I noticed a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead. We sat close enough to easily be able to touch, but not enough to actually be touching. 

It was the light of the CCTV camera that kept us from completely being in the dark. And—

Suddenly, Knight pushed past me, breathing ragged and chest heaving. 

"What's—?"

"Alana," He whispered, lips trembling and face so, so blanched. Something really was wrong. "I'm going to need you to look away and pretend like I'm fine, okay? Can you—can you do that for me?"

My eyebrows slammed together. "What?"

He closed his eyes, face becoming less illuminated as he moved far away now in this big, dark elevator. 

"I—" And he stopped breathing entirely.