She stared at him. He’d grabbed her, yes, but there was no violence in his eyes, just lust. And, okay, a hint of danger, which was super exciting. The idea that she was going to keep a secret from this man gave her a spark of fear, but that ignited her own lust. “No games?” she said, her voice quivering. “What about sex games?”
He smiled. “Sweetheart, sex between us will always be fun, but it’ll never be a game.”
17
Present Day
Matt sat slumped in the corner, his back pressed against cold concrete, watching Kara pace like a caged animal. His leg throbbed with each heartbeat, a dull, insistent pain that both grounded him and made him feel helpless.
They’d smashed the camera hours ago. Futile rebellion, but at least they couldn’t be watched anymore. After that, they’d pulled out every monitor, every cable, trying to send a signal—anything. Matt reasoned that if the camera was broadcasting somewhere, he could tap into that and get a message to his team. But nothing worked.
Kara had torn through every cabinet like a storm, her hands bloodied from forcing jammed drawers. No food. No water. Nothing but yellowed paper, shattered glass, and the stench of decay. She’d spent nearly an hour scraping her fingers raw to twist bolts off a metal leg, detaching it from the desk, and now she gripped the makeshift weapon like it was the last fragment of control she had left.
“You need to rest,” Matt said quietly, voice hoarse.
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes darted along the catwalk across from them, too far to walk to, but he knew what she wanted to do: jump.
Her lips moved silently—calculating. The distance? The risk?
“I think we can make it down,” she said. “I’ve gone over it a hundred times. That catwalk—the closest one—it’s probably unstable, but it’s only a twenty-foot drop. If we can hang, then fall, it’s survivable. Bruises, maybe a sprain. But we can’t stay here. We have to try.”
“Not tonight,” Matt said firmly. “It’s pitch-black. If we screw up, we might break a leg. Fall on something we can’t see. Or get caught in another trap.”
“There’s a door on the far side. It’s blocked, but I don’t think it’s sealed shut.”
She couldn’t know that, not from this distance, but Matt didn’t say that.
“We can get out—if we make it down, we get out that door.”
“Kara,” he said, almost pleading. “Sit down.”
She froze. Then shook her head slowly, like a child refusing to accept a cruel truth. “No. Ican’tsit. I can’t just... wait to die in here.”
He looked at her—really looked. The moonlight through the dark factory windows gave just enough illumination to show him a hint of her anguish. Her cheeks were sunken, lips cracked, eyes ringed with exhaustion and something deeper: fear eating her from the inside out.
“We need to conserve our strength,” Matt said gently. “Just a few hours of sleep.”
“Strength?” Her voice cracked. “What strength? We haven’t eaten in nearly two days. My mouth feels like sand. My hands won’t stop shaking. We were drugged, Matt. We weretaken. If we wait... we won’t have the energy to move when itistime.”
She was spiraling, fast. Matt could see it. She gripped the metal stick tighter, fingers white.
“Kara. Please.”
“No, Matt. Wehaveto try—” She turned on him suddenly, stick half raised like she didn’t even know it was in her hand. Her breath caught, and then she dropped it. The clang of metal on concrete echoed loudly in the stillness.
Her body crumpled.
“I don’t know what to do,” she choked out, collapsing to her knees. A sound ripped from her—a raw, animal cry of grief and terror that shattered whatever composure Matt had left.
He forced himself to his feet, biting down on the pain, and limped to her. He dropped beside her and pulled her into his arms.
“I’m here,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to die in here,” she sobbed into his chest. “I feel like we’re already ghosts.”
Matt held her tighter. He didn’t speak. What could he say? He felt the same way, completely helpless.
There was really nothing either of them could say. They both knew the danger of their situation. They both knew the risks. The odds weren’t in their favor.
