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He pulls a remote control from his robe and presses a button. Within seconds, music filters in overhead, dragging my gaze up to the ceiling. My captor laughs manically, grabbing my jaw and forcing my gaze back on him.

“Don’t fight it, little banshee,” he says, releasing my jaw to encircle my throat and climb on top of me. “Surrender to the sound.”

It takes me all of five seconds to realize what both his words and the overhead music mean. I begin to panic, knowing that I’ll surely die in this room. I think of Cordelia, instantly wishing I hadn’t. I switch my focus to Callum, begging him to save me through an imaginary, telepathic wavelength. My thoughts are halted within seconds, and I can feel my resolve melting away as I relax against the mattress. My mind clears, and my panic subsides until it’s nothing more than a distant memory.

“That’s much better,” my captor coos, running a gloved thumb over my cheek.

There’s a voice somewhere in the depths of my mind that screams for me to wake up, to fight, but it’s stifled as quickly as it comes. The thought strikes me as odd, but it’s quickly extinguished when the frequency overhead grows louder. I smile, for no other reason than because the sound overhead is so damn soothing.

“That’s it, little banshee. Let me in. Let it in,” my captor says, his voice as tranquil as the sound overhead.

He reaches around his frame, grabbing a very large knife from somewhere beneath his robe. I tilt my head as the metal gleams beneath the overhead lights. Something within me screams that I should be afraid, begs me to fight. But I can’t, and I don’t.

“For what it’s worth, I wanted to keep you,” he says.

Keep me? His words strike me as odd, but the thought abandons me as swiftly as it emerged. My captor brings the knife up over his head, the blade pointed directly at my chest. It momentarily dawns on me that he’s going to kill me with it, but I can’t find it within me to truly care. My thoughts are shrouded in peace, a blanket of comfort among the chaos.

“Don’t worry, little banshee. Callum will be fine,” he says, stilling the knife in midair as he tilts his head.

Wait, Callum. CALLUM! Shit. No, this isn’t right. None of this is right. I have to tell Callum who our captor is. I have to tell him.

My captor’s hands begin to tremble, the knife wobbling above me. Panic creeps back into my thoughts, replacing the comfort with a crippling fear. My mind unravels as I come back to the full realization that I’m being manipulated by the frequency playing overhead. And the worst part? I’m about to be murdered by this masked lunatic.

I feel my resolve slipping once more, and I picture Callum’s face to bring myself back. But it doesn’t work, and I know that this will happen. My captor shakes above me, jerking the knife toward me as if an invisible force is keeping it back.

“Stop it. This must be done,” he calls out.

I narrow my eyes, wondering who he’s talking to. He shifts the knife lower, struggling until it’s mere inches from my body. I feel the sharp edge of the blade against my chest, my eyes dropping to the deadly weapon waiting to take my life. I try to make peace with it, to dissociate as I’ve done so many times before. My eyes fall shut, and I internally remove myself from this place.

When I open my eyes again, I’m in a field of pale blue forget-me-nots with Callum sitting beside me. The sun shines against my skin as Callum runs his knuckles down my arm, up and down, and up and down.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” I hear Callum’s voice bellow from somewhere close by, pulling me from my place in the field beside him.

My captor is ripped from his place above me, the knife falling to the ground with a loud clank. I try to focus, but my mind is slipping. I turn my head toward Callum in slow motion, willing myself to stay awake.

I blink, watching as Callum tosses our captor out into the hall. When he turns and heads my way, his form begins to blur. I try so hard to keep my eyes open, to wait for him. But it’s no use. My eyes flutter closed, and I allow the serene darkness to consume me whole.

24

Callum

Lydia Aston is sunlight where I only knew shadows.

I heard the music from down the hall, dragging me from the depths of my mind and leading me right to her. The asshole in a mask was using the frequency to make Lydia compliant so that he could kill her. The thought alone makes me want to rip his head from his body and shove it up his ass. I still might, but not right now. Not when Lydia looks so fucking broken. That literal piece of shit was going to fucking take her from me.

Lydia came to shortly after I tossed our captor’s ass into the hallway. He hit the back wall and has been unconscious since. I can see the steady rise and fall of his chest, letting me know he’s still alive. At least, for now.

Shortly after Lydia told me what she remembered before blacking out, she passed out again. I found the keys to her cuffs on the ground near the cot and took them off right after. I could tell she was exhausted, so I’ve been holding her close and letting her sleep it off. I don’t want to move her, not yet. I need to know she’s okay before I do.

I turn, glancing down at our captor’s unconscious body lying out in the hall. His creepy ass mask still conceals his identity. Lydia remembers seeing a face but can’t recall an identity. The only two things she’s certain of are that our captor is male and someone familiar. I’m guessing the fucker used some version of frequency manipulation on her. Lucky him, I guess. Too bad that’s not going to stop me from beating his ass straight into the pits of Hell. In fact, I think I’ll walk over there right now and find out who he is for myself. I attempt to shift Lydia to the bed beside me when she begins to stir.

“C-Callum. You came,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open and landing on mine.

I forget all prior tasks as I stare down at her. Tears rim her beautiful eyes, and I instantly feel sick. I hate seeing her like this. I fucking can’t stand it, and I want to make it right. I want to see her smile and listen as her laughter fills the air. I want her to spew sarcastic little insults my way while I pretend that I don’t fucking enjoy them.

“Of course I did,” I answer.

I tug her closer, unable to hold myself back. She nuzzles her head against my chest, and I run a hand over her hair in reassuring strokes. Releasing a heavy sigh of relief, I hold her firmly against me, afraid of losing her a second time.