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My breathing turns ragged, and I let out a strained, too-quiet shriek as the door to the room suddenly clicks open.

A man I’ve never seen before walks in. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and dark gray sweatpants, and looks as if he’s just woken up too. There’s a reddish mark on his cheek like he’s been lying on something. But when I meet his eyes, there’s nothing tired there. His green eyes are sharply focused on me, assessing me.

I’m sweating now, my shirt damp under my arms. “W-where… am I?” I try to say, but it comes out rough and tiny.

The man has faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his dark hair is cut close at the sides, and his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed. The more I look at him, the more confused I get. He doesn’t really look like a kidnapper. He also doesn’t look quite like the man who shot Wade. That man was older, with tan skin.

Oh, his arm…

His left arm is a prosthetic. That must have been what I felt when I was fighting his hold last night.

“We’re somewhere safe,” the man answers, his voice low and even, like he’s practiced saying it.

It takes a second for my brain to catch up—I’d asked him a question. My fingers dig into the worn plush of my rabbit’s back, holding him so tight the stitches strain.

“Please…” The word comes out thin, almost soundless. I try again. “Please let me go.”

Something shifts in his face—not much, just a slight tightening along his jaw, a faint shadow that passes behind his eyes. “I can’t do that.”

My stomach plummets. “Why?”

“I’ll explain everything later, Kamden. Right now, I need to check if you’re okay, and then you’ll be needing some food and water.”

“N-no.” My voice shakes now, brittle. “No—just let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? I won’t—I won’t tell anybody! A-about this, or—or Wade. Please. Please let me go home. I haven’t even told the police about Wade! I haven’t said anything, I—”

He takes a step closer, and I flinch back. He pauses, raising his hands slowly as if to calm a spooked animal.

“Sweetheart, I know,” he says softly. “I know you haven’t, and that was very, very good. But I still can’t let you go.” For a second, his gaze drops to my wrist, where the zip tie has reddened the skin.

Tears prickle behind my eyes. He doesn’t even try to lie. “You kidnapped me.”

“I did, yeah.”

I stare at him, unnerved by the honesty. It feels more dangerous than a lie would. “Are… Are you going to kill me?”

The man almost looks… insulted? His mouth draws tight, and his brow pinches, like I’ve accused him of something worse than tying a teenager to a bed.

“No,” he says. “I’m not going to kill you.” He sounds so sure that for a second, I almost believe him. But then I remember the gun, and Wade, and the way my wrist feels like it’s being pinched with pliers.

I try not to cry—crying is what gets me in trouble, always—but the relief and the fear just mix up inside me until I’m all full and shaking. “Then why are you doing this?” I say, wishing I didn’t hear the way my voice cracks.

He sighs, and for a second his eyes flick away from mine to the zip tie, then back up. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and then, kind of quietly, “at least, not any more than I have to.” It’s weird how much those words do and don’t help.

He moves closer, slow and careful. I tense again, clinging to my bunny, the muscles in my free arm burning with the effort.

“You’ve hurt yourself by all that pulling,” he says, nodding at my trapped wrist. “I don’t want it compromising circulation or causing nerve problems. I don’t want you hurt, Kamden.” He looks at me, and something about how he says it makes me pause. “You’re not here because I want to torture you. You’re here because it’s the only way to keep you alive.”

Alive. The word sits heavy in my chest, and I can’t decide if it means he’s going to protect me or just… needs me alive for something.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I whisper.

“I know. And I know I’ve scared you, but I need to come a little closer to make sure you’re alright and to get that tie off of you. I’m doing this to help you, Kamden. You understand?”

I don’t, not really, but I nod anyway because I’m scared, and if he takes off the zip tie, I might have a chance to escape. He moves closer, and I inch back as far as I can before the tie bites harder. He kneels by the bed, so we’re almost eye-level.