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I begin to kick the door, screaming until my voice goes hoarse. My eyes burn with the constant sting of tears and even though I don’t think this guy wants to kill me, I could possibly die here. There’s no food, no water, nothing.
I exhaust myself kicking the door, I fall back onto the carpet, out of tears, I close my eyes. I dream of Ethan. I see his face, begging him to find me. I have no idea what this guy wants, but he knows my family has money.
If I hadn’t done that article, the attention wouldn’t have been on me. This guy wouldn’t have found me. I think about all the times I walked to Ethan’s house in the night, wondering if this guy was watching me. I never felt unsafe, but as much as I want to blame the article, I can’t. This person knew my routine. He knew I’d be going to Ethan’s house. He watched me, he planned this. But I don’t feel like he did this alone. There were two of them when I was taken, but that doesn’t mean the other person is still involved.
My thoughts swirl, trying to figure a way out of this, knowing he’s going to come back at some point. He can’t leave me here forever. I’m the only way he’s going to get what he wants, and I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have no idea if this is connected to my family or to Ethan or even both.
This person has done their research. They know who I am and that my family is connected. They knew I was going to be at Ethan’s tonight. It’s someone who knows me, knows Ethan, knows that we had been keeping our relationship a secret.
I fall asleep on the floor not caring in the least about anything but trying to get myself out of here. My body aches, my head throbs and my wrists are bloody, but I will not give up.
I awake to the sound of the lock on the outside of the door being opened. It takes me a few seconds to catch up and remember where I am, wishing the whole thing was a dream but it’s not.
Shoving away from the door, I’m looking up when he walks in, his masked face looking down at me. I want to scream, but it stays trapped in my throat, strangled by my fear and need to escape.
“You can’t leave me here!” I yell out, scrambling away from him, but not able to move fast enough with my wrists still bound.
“I see you got your arms from behind your back,” he says, his voice the same as it was when he took me, when he said the few things to me before. I memorize his voice, the tone, the inflection, the way he pronounces words.
“Fuck you! You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I spit out, kicking him in the shin as he walks by me. He reaches down, yanking me up by my hair, sending a jolt of pain through my body, but I try not to react. This asshole gets off on this, gets off on my struggles and I won’t let him win.
He drags me across the floor, slamming my head into the bathroom vanity, muttering as he does. I’ve gotten under his skin, and I have to keep doing that. I have to throw him off his game.
“There’s no water here. There’s nothing to eat. You can’t leave me here,” I growl, my teeth clenched, my body begging me to let it scream out in pain.
He cuts my wrists free with a knife, the blade slicing into my skin as he does, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from yelling out.
But he never lets go of me, holding me in place by my hair as he handcuffs one of my wrists to a pipe under the sink, leaving the other free. He yanks on the handcuff, making sure it’s secure before he leaves again, never saying anything more than necessary.
Seconds later he returns, throwing a bag of beef jerky and a gallon jug of water down on the floor next to me.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” I scream. “You can’t leave me like this!”
“You’re getting what you deserve, princess. Piss on the floor for all I care,” he responds, and again, I listen, hanging on the way he says each word, each syllable.
He slams the door, leaving me on the floor, cuffed to the sink with the little bit of food he brought. The fact that he did bring food and water tells me he doesn’t want me to die. I’m no good to him dead. He’s using me as leverage to get money or something from my family.
I grab the jug of water, pinning in between my legs to hold it in place as I open it. I smell it first, letting it swish around, but again, he doesn’t want to kill me. I take a drink, relishing the liquid as it coats my dry throat.
I rest my back against the vanity, trying to come up with a plan. I need a plan to get myself out of here because I’m not certain anyone can find me. Right now, it’s just me.
CHAPTER3
ETHAN
This is not how I pictured meeting Zoey’s family going. Or how I pictured explaining to them and her friends about our relationship. But here I am, in her condo in the middle of the night, standing with her parents and her brother. Not to mention two of her friends, who also happen to be my employees.
And the police.
“So can you take me through the timeline again?” The guy in the suit asks me. It’s a miracle he’s even here, considering most missing persons must be missing for a minimum of twenty-four hours before anything is done.
Except in this case, there is evidence to suggest she isn’t missing, but instead taken. Not to mention the whole Holden thing. Her name means something in this town and when I first called the police to report what had happened, the second I mentioned her name, they didn’t waste any time before sending three cars over, complete with four uniforms and this plain clothes guy.
“Haven’t we been through this already?” I say, letting out a hard sigh. My fucking nerves are at their breaking point, my body on edge as we all stand around doing absolutely nothing while someone has Zoey.
“I know,” the guy says, giving me what I assume is supposed to be a sympathetic smile. “But I just want to make sure I have everything.”
I glance at Jeff and Pam, Zoey’s parents. They both have worried expressions on their faces, which is completely understandable given what they’ve faced in the past two hours. Her dad’s expression is laced with something else though, something that might be anger, his mouth set in a firm line. Her mom looks more scared than anything else and honestly, I don’t blame either of them.
