Blind Desires

TATE

I’D DRUNK TOO much.

That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid—but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind.

The something’s-fucking-wrong kind.

It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black.

I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing.

My heart flipped. My pulse shot up. My throat tightened around air that suddenly felt thin. My glasses. Where the fuck were my glasses? Why couldn’t I see?

I jerked forward and that’s when the second thing hit—I couldn’t move. Arms yanked behind me, legs tight. Rough rope dug into my skin. My wrists burned. My ankles throbbed.

Tied.

I was tied up.

My chest caved in around the thought. I yanked instinctively, body jerking—stupid, stupid, everything hurt—but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t calm down. My lungs locked tight. My breath broke into short, fast bursts that sounded way too loud in the silence.

“Hello?” I rasped. My voice cracked. “What the fuck?”

My throat felt raw. Something rough was tied around my head, pressing down. I couldn’t see. Could barely breathe.

This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t a frat thing. This wasn’t anything I could laugh off later with a headache and a story.

This was real.

I twisted harder. The rope bit deeper. My fingers burned. “Ethan?” I barked, the sound wild. “This isn’t funny—”

A boot slammed into my stomach.

The air ripped from my lungs. I folded over, wheezing through my teeth as pain clawed up my spine. My ribs screamed. I tasted something coppery.

Blood.

Oh my God.

I wasn’t at the party anymore.

I wasn’t with anyone I knew.

I’d really have been kidnapped.

“Shut him the fuck up,” a voice snapped.

Thick accent. Harsh. I couldn’t place it. Didn’t matter. The fear roared so loud in my ears I could barely hear past the pounding.

Another voice followed with the sound of footsteps. “We don’t need his voice. Just his body.”

I started shaking. Not just trembling—shaking. My muscles twitched under my skin. My mouth kept moving, desperate to say something, anything that would make this stop.

“My father—he’s—” I choked. “You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with—he’s got people—he’ll kill you for this—”

Another blow. Not my face but to my ribs again. I folded, coughing so hard my stomach cramped.

Someone grabbed my face and I flinched violently, the world tilting as I was forced upright and the blindfold ripped off.

Light burned my eyes and I winced, blinking hard through the blur. Everything doubled. My vision was shit without glasses—smears of shadows and color. But one thing stood out.

A man.

Massive. Buzzed hair. Covered in ink. Crouching low in front of me, studying me like I was meat on a slab. His fingers dug into my chin and tilted my head to the side.

Even blind, I felt the hard stare of his gaze.

He scoffed. “Shit. You really do look like him.”

I froze.

What?

He let go, dropped my head. I swayed, dizzy, bile crawling up my throat. “Better be the right one this time,” someone muttered behind him.

The man didn’t look back. “We’re not making that mistake again.” He sounded bored. Annoyed, even. Like I was paperwork that got lost and needed re-filing.

“What—what are you talking about?” I rasped. My voice was nothing now, shaky as I tried to understand what the hell was happening.

No one answered.

“Gag him,” the first voice snapped again.

“No, no, wait—!”

Something shoved between my teeth—rough cloth. It scraped my tongue, filled my mouth. I gagged hard. My throat spasmed. I couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t fucking speak.

They yanked me up.

My legs gave out instantly. I hit the floor. My knees cracked on concrete. I groaned into the gag. Pain blurred the edges of everything, and my brain spiraled, unable to keep up with everything.

One of them laughed.

“You said don’t bruise the face,” someone joked.

“Then don’t,” came the cold reply. “Boss wants him intact.”

Intact.

Like cargo.

They dragged me to my feet again, two sets of hands this time. Strong. Tight. Like I weighed nothing.

“Estate’s expecting delivery,” someone muttered.

They shoved me toward a door. Cold air rushed in. Night. I caught a glimpse of the sky—a blur of stars. Then I was thrown into a van and I met metal walls with no windows. My head hit something. I curled up on instinct, every inch of me screaming.

The doors slammed shut and it was dark again.

And this time, I didn’t just feel fear. I became it.

My heart beat in my ears like a countdown. My throat ached around the gag. My body trembled against the rope that held me still.

I didn’t know who they thought I was. I didn’t know where I was going.

But whoever wanted me wanted a body.

And right now, that was all I had.

———-

They dragged me out of the van, boots crunching gravel, hands digging into my arms like I was fucking property. My feet barely touched the ground as they hauled me forward, and for a second, I thought—cell, dungeon, chains. That’s what this was, right? Some dark little pit where they’d leave me to rot?

Wrong.

The door opened, warm air hitting my skin like whiplash. I blinked against the sudden light, trying to make sense of what I was seeing—marble floors, chandelier above, walls that looked like they belonged in a goddamn magazine spread.

What the fuck?

They shoved me inside, and I stumbled, nearly face-planting onto some expensive-looking rug. I couldn’t see shit without my glasses, just blurry gold and white and movement.

Then they were on me again, ripping the hood off, untying my wrists. The second the ropes fell away, I did what any reckless idiot would do.

I lunged.

Fist swinging, body flying forward, I didn’t care who I hit. I just needed out. I caught someone in the jaw. Felt it crack under my knuckles. That flash of satisfaction was quick. Too quick.

Because the next second, a punch slammed into my gut. All the air ripped out of me. I doubled over, wheezing.

“Stupid little fuck,” someone hissed.

Another hit. My ribs screamed. I stumbled back, but they didn’t let me fall. No, they kept me upright just to keep beating me down.

Fists. Elbows. A knee to my face. Blood sprayed from my nose, and I barely had time to taste it before another blow snapped my head sideways.

I crashed to the floor.

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. I curled in, arms over my head, but it didn’t matter.

They weren’t stopping.

Boots slammed into my side—once, twice—until everything inside me felt broken. My ears rang. My skin burned. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a wet cough.

“I thought they said they wanted me intact,” I rasped, voice cracking. “Fuckin’ liars.”

They didn’t respond. Or maybe they did. I couldn’t hear anymore. Everything was noise—dull and far away, like I was sinking underwater.

I reached for something. Anything. My glasses? My pride?

Gone.

The floor was warm. Or maybe I was just bleeding on it.

My fingers twitched. My mouth moved. I think I whispered “fuck you,” or maybe it was just a breath.

Didn’t matter.

The lights above me blurred, then vanished.

And I blacked the fuck out.