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I tug on my restraints desperately, but the rope holds tight on my wrists and ankles. The bedposts creak in protest of my struggles.
Fuck!
“I don’t know why you need to talk to her now,” Sam says, confused.
I hear them stop walking. “Are you sure your brothers aren’t here?” a man asks.
“I told you he’s in town helping my dad. I don’t know where Michael and Kaleb went.” I can practically hear the sound of her rolling her eyes. “You can ask my mom. She’ll be back any second.”
“No, no,” he rushes. “I’ll just talk to her now.”
I strain to hear more.
“So she’s stayed up here all weekend?”
“I guess, except for last night.” Sam sounds unsure, and I lie here praying she’ll take him back downstairs. “But they’re a couple, and my brother’s private anyway, plus her friends just died.”
They’re outside the door now, and I don’t fight the tears of humiliation as they run freely down my face.
I’m naked, gagged, and tied to her brother’s bed. She cannot see this. I would have to ask Michael to actually kill me. The thought sounds better and better with every beat of my heart.
I tug frantically at my bound wrists as I’m forced to lie here and helplessly watch the doorknob turn.
My heart cracks at the same time the door begins to open.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Holy fuck.
I have never been so pleased to hear someone’s voice. Michael is angry, his tone is one of outrage.
“Samantha, you know better. Anyone’s room is off-limits without permission.”
My head flops back on my pillow, and I breathe for what feels like the first time since Sam and the man stepped onto the landing.
“And you, Deputy Fuckface”—Kaleb?—“are not welcome in this house.”
Yes, definitely Kaleb, and he’s even more furious than Michael.
The door slams closed, causing my whole body to sink into the bed. Relief courses through me, fear having chased away any sense of arousal.
“Our father won’t be happy,” Michael warns him, but the man scoffs, clearly not worried, “And neither am I.”
I flinch, wondering if the man just signed his own death warrant.
“Go to your room, Samantha,” Kaleb orders.
“No! You’re not my dad.”
“Clearly, because if I was your daddy, you wouldn’t sit well for the next few days. Now, I will not tell you again.” Kaleb’s deep voice is loud, and I wonder if he closed the door. Is he standing in front of it, guarding me? “Go to your room.”
Sam sniffles. “I was just trying to help.” Her retreating steps are quick as she runs down the stairs.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” Michael orders.
“I thought it was your father’s house, but then again, he isn’t really your father, is he? You’re both little bastards.”
What?
