The dinner with Lilian and Devon had done something to me. Something small but important.Maybe it was Evangeline’s excitement or baby Alexander falling asleep in my arms. Maybe it was the conversation with Devon on the porch. Or maybe it was Lilian and her stubbornness. But when I got home that night, I didn’t go straight to bed. I didn’t collapse on the couch and let the silence swallow me whole like I’d been doing for days.Instead, I sat at the kitchen table and reached for the files Alicia had sent home. Alicia was another reminder of Marissa. She'd picked her after the interviews. She'd said she would fit perfectly into the role.It was past midnight. The streets were quiet outside, the city finally still. The kitchen was dimly lit, just the overhead light and the soft glow of the lamp beside me. I stared at the top page, blinked, and then read it again.And for the first time in over a week, the words made sense.Not all of it, of course. I was still distracted. My mind still d
I should’ve left the office two hours ago. That had been the plan. But here I was, hunched over a desk that I was now coming to hate and reading the same document for the third time, and still not understanding what the hell I was looking at. I blinked. Now the words were swimming. Perfect. Just perfect.“Sir?” Alicia’s voice came softly from across the room. “The files for signature?”I glanced at her, then at the pile in front of me. “Leave them. I’ll go through it later.”“You’ve said that twice today.”I didn’t answer. I just leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose.She shifted. “You need rest, sir.”“I need my fiancée back, Alicia.”Silence.I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. But maybe I did. Fiancee? I hadn't even asked her to marry me yet. God, there was so much that I hadn't told her. So much that we hadn't had the time for. Thinking of it now, I didn't think there was anyone else I could even consider spending the rest of my life with. She was it for me. I'd known
The soft, final snick of the lock turning on the outside of the door cut through the quiet like a knife. He’d locked me in. Just like that. The room suddenly felt smaller, the cozy quilt on the bed and the polished wood of the dresser nothing more than a pretty disguise for a cage. Anthony didn’t want me outside. He wanted me contained right here, within these four walls, under his control. That much was terrifyingly clear.I stood completely still in the middle of the room, straining my ears against the thick silence that followed the sound of the lock. There were no footsteps walking away down the hallway, no creaking floorboards. It was just heavy, empty quiet. Was he standing right outside the door, leaning against it, listening for my reaction? Or had he already walked away, completely sure the locked door would hold me? My heart pounded hard and fast against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear. Welcome home. Those words felt like a sick joke now, crawling under my skin. This was
My heart was beating very fast as I waited for the door to open. Cool, damp air rushed in, smelling sharply of pine needles and wet earth. It was a clean smell, for the first time since I got into the van and I dragged a deep breath into my lungs. Then his voice cut through it.“We’re home, Marissa.”Home. The word landed like a stone in my stomach. Anthony’s voice was close, right outside the open door. It sounded… satisfied. Smug, even. Like he’d just won a prize.I flinched when his hands touched my shoulders. Not rough, but firm. Guiding. He untied the blindfold from behind my head. The fabric fell away, and even the dim, grey light filtering through thick clouds felt blinding. I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking rapidly.“Easy now,” he murmured, his breath too close to my ear. “Give your eyes a moment.”I kept blinking, forcing them to adjust. Shapes swam into focus. Anthony stood in the open doorway, silhouetted against a backdrop of dense, dark green trees. Tall pines and firs, t
I didn’t know how long we had been on the road.The blindfold had been on since they led me out. I tried, at first, to keep track of every turn, every stop, every bump that might give away something. I counted seconds. I imagined corners. I tried to hold onto a rhythm. But somewhere along the line, time slipped away from me. And so did the road. Everything started to feel the same. Every sound. Every dip. Every breath of air.I sat in silence, my hands resting on my lap, unbound, but still trapped in more ways than I could explain. There was no rope, no chains, no screaming guards. Just the tight knot in my stomach and the fabric over my eyes.When Anthony came in that morning, he had simply opened the door like he owned the world, and announced that we were leaving. He said I needed to get up. That everything was changing. I didn't understand but he didn't explain further. “We’re going somewhere better,” he had said. “Somewhere you’ll be safe. You’ll be happy.”I hadn’t answered rig
Walker’s call came in at 8:00am on Friday; 4 hours ahead of the 24 hours I gave him. That was Walker, efficient as hell. I was still in bed though I had barely gotten any sleep all night. My thumb jabbed the answer button. I was sitting up before the phone reached my ear."Walker. Talk to me. Did you find her? Where is she?" My voice sounded rough, like I’d swallowed sand. It was a the voice of frustration.His voice was flat, like always. "I’ve got something. You know the black van you said she was taken away in? I found it. It’s registered to a guy named Marcus Delaney. He lives out .""Delaney? Is he involved? Where is he?" I was already swinging my legs out of bed, the cold floor biting into my bare feet. My mind raced. I could go there now. I would find him. Find…"Unlikely," Walker cut in, breaking my thoughts. "The van was reported stolen two days before Marissa was taken. The owner filed a police report."Stolen?" Disappointment warred with the flicker of hope that had risen i