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I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad in my entire life. Raised above me, my hand has long since lost any circulation. The cuff isn’t tight but it’s on good enough that I can’t pull myself free. And due to the thin metal slats separated by a foot of space in either direction, I can’t slide close enough to the nightstand to rummage through it to find a key. My shoulder aches, and I really do need to pee.
“Stupid, fucking assholes!” I scream again, not caring if neighbors can hear or not. In fact, I hope they do and call the police. Good luck trying to talk yourself out ofthissituation, Grant.
I yank hard again. Just like every other time, nothing happens. Well, that’s not exactly true. The irritated skin around my wrist grows just a tiny bit redder. Other than that, my freedom is still out of reach. Angry tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheek. I hate this. I think I hate this more than when they risk my job at the library. Thishurts. What game is Grant playing at, leaving me like this for so long?
A loud thump coming from the main part of the apartment catches my attention. Was that the door opening? Oh please let it be. I can’t deal with another minute of this.
“Hello? Jason? Trip!” I call, hope flaring to life. I rattle my handcuff along the metal. “C’mon guys! This sucks!”
There’s no response. I strain to the side to see down the hallway. With the door partially open, I can see no one in the kitchen or hear any more movement in the rest of the house.
“Grant?”
Again, no answer.
If they’re not here, then what was that noise? Unease causes my chest to grow tight. I bite my bottom lip and strain to hear anything else. At first, there’s nothing. Then there’s something. Footsteps. They’re slow and deliberate, heavy and ominous. How I know they don’t belong to the guys is beyond me, but my internal warning system is going crazy.
“Oh,Briella, where are you?”
I suck in a sharp breath at the deep male voice calling out to me. The voice doesn’t sound familiar, but apparently, they know whoIam. That can’t be a good thing. I look at the handcuff around my wrist and then around the room. I need a weapon, a phone, orsomething.
“I know you’re in here. I’ve been watching you. Waiting for you. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
My heart slams against my ribcage in terror.
I reach down, grab the comforter, and pull it up. At the very least, I don’t want my naked bottom half exposed to the intruder. The movement jostles my cuffed hand. In the silence of the apartment, the gentle sound of metal scraping against metal sounds loud. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying whoever is in the apartment didn’t hear it. Unfortunately, luck doesn’t seem to be on my side this morning. The sound of feet moving toward the bedroom tells me my fate is about to be sealed. I don’t even bother to lean to the side to see who it is as they approach. I’m about to find out anyway. The door swings open and slams against the wall.
There, standing in the doorway, is a ghost.
“Well, look what I have here. It’s like the gods have blessed me with this revenge.” The man laughs.
“J-Joey?” I gasp in disbelief.
The man standing there is the spitting image of Pianna’s ex. With wide shoulders, a small beer belly, tacky designer jeans and a white shirt that probably cost too much for what it is, Joey looks very muchalive. The gold chain around his neck and the rings on his fingers glitter in the light coming into the bedroom from the window.
The man’s dark brows slam together. “Don’t you dare utter my brother’s name, you fucking cunt.”
The man steps further into the room, and it’s then that I realize I was mistaken. This man’s face is longer, his facial hair better groomed, and his eyes aren’t black and beady, more like a muddy brown. He’s also taller than Joey was, and the tattoos don’t match.
My stomach drops out of my body as I stare at the stranger. Pianna had mentioned a brother, but she’d said they were estranged. Why is he here? How did he find me? And what the hell does he want?
“W-who are you?”
The man looks me up and down slowly. The menacing glare melts away as a wide smile appears. I definitely prefer the scowl. There’s nothing good that can come from a man who smiles likethisat a woman handcuffed to a bed.
“The name’s Danny,” he introduces. He reaches forward and grabs a handful of the comforter. I know what he’s about to do even before he tries it. With my free hand, I grab the comforter, but Danny yanks it off the bed with ease.
He whistles as I scramble to tuck my legs beneath me as I sit up.
“Get out of here!” I snap with gumption that I have no right to use right now.
“You know, I was going to come in here and kill you. Make it quick, even though you don’t deserve it after what you did to Joey, but… I have time to make this a bit more fun,” he says, ignoring me completely.
“W-what I did to Joey? What are you talking about?” I attempt to look anything other than guilty as I glare up at him.
The smile drops from his lips. He reaches forward, grabs my shirt, and with his other hand, he punches me. The pain that explodes on the side of my cheek causes spots to dance in my vision. I gasp and slump forward.
“No need to fucking lie. He told me everything!” Danny yells into my face as he leans over me. “You didn’t fucking kill him that night, you stupid bitch.”
