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The weight on my chest moved and I tried to lift my head to look down. Oh fuck, my head was a thousand pounds, I could barely lift it an inch off the ground, barely lift my eyes open.
And what I saw made no sense.
Ruth. Ruth, tied to a chair that had been knocked over sideways on top of me. It was dark, but moonlight came in from a high window. Enough so I could see tape over her mouth. And I could feel her wriggling and hear her inaudible noises as she tried to say something even though the tape muffled her words.
I blinked again, even though each time it felt like lifting a mountain.
Ruth.
I was here with Ruth.
Ruth.
The wedding. We were at the wedding, and I’d proposed to Ruth, and she’d said yes. But then, then something had happened—
I shut my eyes, trying to concentrate and recall.
And then it all hit with a flood. The wedding. Charlie’s mom figuring out she was pregnant. Me being an asshole and my brother calling me out on it.
Going after Ruth and finding—
Oh shit!
My eyes popped back open. I’d followed the tracker I’d put on Ruth’s phone, because after what had happened to me so long ago, I’d always been hypervigilant. I knew the evil people were capable of, no matter how happy-go-lucky my twin was, how good he wanted to believe humanity was.
I knew better. So I put a tracker on everyone I loved.
And I loved Ruth.
The second I’d stepped in the door and seen her tied up, my heart had sunk through the floor, but like a fucking idiot, I hadn’t gone on alert fast enough and someone had gotten the drop on me.
Judging by how goddamned drowsy I felt, they’d used some powerful shit too.
It felt like it took every ounce of strength to move my head from side to side to check out the room and evaluate the situation.
A shed, we were in a small shed. More memories hit. Me walking toward the shed. The small, out of the way swimming hole at the little dam.
And how I hadn’t told a fucking soul where I was going.
Like a total goddamned idiot. Of course I hadn’t expected this, but hikers never expected to get lost either. They still told people where they were going. It was a basic of going into a situation where unexpected things could happen. Reece and I always had a hard and fast rule that we never went anywhere without letting the other know. Especially after Victoria. I was worse than ever.
But that had been back when we were street kids and over the years, my brother had used the line about being tired of having his brother as his keeper too many times over the years so I’d eased up.
This was bad.
Very bad.
I had to get us out of here.
Because after being handcuffed to Victoria’s bed for two months straight, only allowed out on a leash to use the bathroom and for “walks” on a treadmill, also while leashed, I’d finally escaped, and swore I’d never, ever allow myself to be so powerless again.
I pulled at my wrists and felt the tug. Not cuffs. I looked at how Ruth was tied to the chair.
Duct tape.
Buck had likely used the same thing to tie me up.
A glance down at my ankles confirmed it.
His first mistake.
I looked around. Speaking of, where was the fuckwad? I opened my mouth, which tasted as dry as if it had been stuffed with cotton balls. Swallowing didn’t help, but I did it several times anyway and then tried again, croaking out a low, “Where?”
Moonlight glinted off Ruth’s wide, tear-reddened eyes as she looked toward the door and shrugged.
Did that mean she didn’t know? Or that he could be returning any minute? Fuck. Neither was good news.
I tried to roll my body to the side but barely shifted. Goddammit, no. If Buck was psycho enough to lock us up here like this, he’d probably do much worse when he got back from wherever the hell he’d run off to. He’d brought Ruth to a secondary location and that was always bad news. I’d had reason and opportunity to study this shit extensively. It rarely turned out well.
I sucked in several quick short breaths and huffed them out just as fast. I forced myself to think of just how much danger we were in.
And then I did the one thing I knew would throw my body into a panic and adrenaline response. The one thing I usually fought at all costs.
I intentionally thought about Victoria.
I thought about how her “husband”—really just a favorite slave of the moment—had held me face down on the bed while Victoria put the handcuffs on.
I relived how Victoria took her time with me that first night, introducing me to a kind of pain I’d never known before, and also forcing me to pleasure, over and over.
