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The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. A blurt of fear, a plea: “Please don’t. I’m pregnant.”
Chris freezes, an eerie smile spreading across his face. Sal’s heart sinks at what she’s just done.
She’s given him ammunition.
“Fine. Don’t talk.” He stands over her, breathing unevenly, his fists releasing. He leans close and grips her chin. “This is your own damn fault.”
With that, Chris grabs her roughly by the arm and wrenches her from her seat. He yanks her forward and shoves her toward an open door.
Shit, Sal thinks when she sees where they’re headed. The basement. They descend the stairs. It takes all Sal has not to fight, to struggle, but she can’t risk Chris’s wrath. A shove down the stairs. An accidental fall. God, she can’t chance that. She closes her eyes. She can’t risk her baby.
Chris’s dull monotone takes her from her thoughts. “On the ground.”
Sal obeys, sitting with her back against the wall as he ties her binds to the radiator pipe. It’s an uncomfortable position, with her arms pulled up and to the side, but she bites her tongue, refusing to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing she’s in pain.
Chris stands, breathing unevenly as he stares down at her. “You’ll talk. Or you’ll stay here until you do.”
With that, he turns. The echo of his footsteps is loud up the stairs. Sal flinches at the sound of the slamming door, the basement cast in unbearable darkness. Fuck you, she thinks. She jerks frantically against the binds, her eyes taking in the barren basement, the cinderblock walls, the scattered tools on the floor, the door on the opposite side of the wall. The only source of light comes from a high window. And outside, all she can see is the moon, remote—far away from everyone she knows and loves.
Pure panic. The house is pure panic and Luke’s drowning.
He paces his worry all over the house. By now, he’s called the cops. They had him make a report, and advised him to call friends and family, and then told him to sit tight while they work on getting around to it. The message was clear—maybe she forgot to charge her phone, maybe she got a flat, maybe give it a little more time. It wasn’t their top priority.
But it sure as hell is Luke’s.
After he hung up with the cops, he drove all over the city looking for Sal. Finally, he came home, empty-handed. Hoping against hope that Sal was there.
She wasn’t.
But Seth and Jace were. His brother and best friend had been in the driveway when he pulled up to the house, their expressions grim but determined.
Now, Jace is on the phone with Sal’s sister. He can hear Lacey’s voice getting more panicked, more insistent with each detail Jace gives out.
Which isn’t much.
Seth prowls by the living room window. “So what do we do now? Just sit here and wait?” His voice comes out utterly frustrated. Luke knows it’s killing Seth just as much as it’s killing him—the waiting, the god-awful helplessness.
“Tawny said she was on her way home,” Luke says, ripping a frustrated hand through his hair. He feels ready to jump out of his skin. “Sal was changed and ready for the game. That’s all I know. That’s all I goddamn got.”
He’s aware Seth’s watching him carefully. Looking for signs he’s falling apart. Which he isn’t. He can’t. Not when Sal’s out there.
Luke stares out the window. It’s dark, nearing ten o’clock, the moon bright and high in the sky. The thought of Sal out there, alone, is too much for him to take.
“Luke?” A chirp of a voice sounds. He turns. Emmy Lou’s sticking her blonde head out of the kitchen. She’s been cooking away her worry the entire night. “Do you want coffee with your cake?” she asks, her pretty face pained.
Jace sighs, tucking his cell in his back pocket. “Stop cookin’, Em. No one’s eatin’.”
“I have to do something, Jace,” she whispers like Luke can’t hear. “What else do we do?”
Her words have Luke’s heartbeat ratcheting up in his chest. So damn fast at first he thinks he’s having a heart attack on the spot, but then he realizes it’s the sound of his heartbeat ticking down because the woman he loves is missing.
Luke closes his eyes. Emmy Lou’s right. Everything’s taking too long.
Seth edges close, gesturing for him to step into the hallway, out of earshot. “Luke, I gotta tell you somethin’.”
Luke stares at his brother. “What is it?” Seth’s pale. His eyes dull with pain.
Seth’s throat bobs. “It’s about Sal. She’s—”
