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“She doesn’t leave the house.”
The man across the room, the one calling the shots, looks at the guy beside me, and that’s all it takes for him to punch me in the stomach.
I’d fold in half if the ropes he used to tie me to the chair weren’t holding me in place, both by my shoulders and my waist.
“You’ll never get away with this,” I tell him with tears streaming down my face.
“What makes you think I want to get away with anything?”
The guy beside me laughs, the sound slightly maniacal, and completely terrifying.
“I told her the only way she’ll be able to get away from me is if I’m dead.”
“And that’s going to happen,” the one beside me clarifies. “But not before she dies.”
It sounds like he has plans for a murder-suicide, but why isn’t this guy’s friend not trying to talk some sense into him?
“I don’t care what you have to do to get her here, I just need you to fucking do it.”
I begin to shake my head, but the guy beside me raises his fist, and I freeze.
“It’s a little early in the morning to set this shit into motion. So get some rest. Dying is very hard work.”
The man with the plan disappears into one of the other rooms while the guy who was on the bus with me sits on the single padded chair in the room. It doesn’t take long for me to fully understand the reward he’s going to get out of all of this.
It’s me.
I’m going to be his prize.
The other guy gets Brielle, and he gets me.
It feels like hours crawl by, the sun peeking up behind the house and working its way through the sky before the other guy comes out of his room.
“You’ll ask for her by name,” he says as he pulls out an older-looking phone.
It’s probably one of those cash-pay, untraceable things.
“Hard or easy,” he warns as he presses the button to call. “The choice is yours.”
“Hello?” I hear from the line on speakerphone when it connects.
My chin quivers as I look up at the guy, hating the way he smiles at me. It tells me he doesn’t give a shit what my choice is, he’s going to torture me anyway.
I do the only thing I can do, and that’s to scream and beg for help that I know will never come.
“Please help me! Brielle, please! Please!”
“Nathan.”
My words fall from my lips, and I wonder why she didn’t just hang up the phone.
It’s evident that Brielle is braver than I am.
“Hi there, angel. I’ve missed you.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for me,” she says. As brave as I thought she was, I can hear the edge of fear in her voice now.
“What did I tell you about lying, angel? You know I’ll go to the ends of the earth to protect you.”
“And you really think that kidnapping that bitch you have there would work?”
The guy looks at me, smiling when my tears are renewed.
“Did you really think she gave a shit about you?” Nathan asks me, making a tsking noise with his tongue as if he’s disappointed in me. “She doesn’t care about anyone. I’ve taken care of her for years, practically raised her, and you see what she does to me?”
Only now do I take in his whole face. There are lines at the corners of his eyes and flecks of gray near his temples.
“Nathan Adair,” I pant, recalling the stories on the news.
“Goddamn it,” Brielle snaps from the speaker on the phone. From the tone of her voice, I can tell that if there was ever any hope for me, understanding who he is just sealed my fate.
“I need you to come to me, angel.”
The line is silent but there hasn’t been a click indicating that she’s hung up yet.
“Just let me go, Nathan. Please,” Brielle begs.
If my memory serves me correctly, Nathan Adair is some sort of crime boss out of the Midwest. Ohio maybe. The only reason I remember the story from an episode of Dateline is that I never thought there were kingpins and mobsters in flyover states. I found it intriguing and sad, although it felt too far away to be real. He’s her stepdad or adoptive father, and when I look over at the other guy, I recognize him from pictures shared on the show. He’s the stepbrother, Nathan’s biological son.
She could’ve gone anywhere. She could’ve changed her name. Emmalyn could’ve warned me of the dangers that came with associating with her. Brielle herself could’ve kept her distance.
I feel betrayed, and I wonder what that effect will have on my soul once it leaves my body.
“On one condition,” Brielle barters.
“I don’t do very well with compromise, angel. You know that all too well.”
“You have to kill her quickly,” Brielle continues.
