I try to hold onto the memory of my mother, of cinnamon and twinkling lights, but it all feels a million miles away, a story about someone else. This is my reality now: a sterile dorm room and the bitter taste of regret.
Around four o’clock in the afternoon, I force myself to move. I have a party to run. Some of the food and drink deliveries are scheduled for late afternoon, and I need to be there to open the room and get things set up.
I pull on my boots and my heaviest jacket, the collar turned up against the biting wind. The walk across the deserted campus feels post-apocalyptic. It’s just me and the swirling snow.
When I reach the old common room, the quiet is profound.
I take a deep breath, trying to summon some last reserve of holiday spirit, of determination. This is for my mom. I won’t let him ruin this for me.
I slip the old iron key into the lock and turn. The heavy oak door groans open into the darkened hall.
I step inside, reaching for the light switch just inside the frame.
And before my fingers can find it, everything happens at once.
The door slams shut behind me, plunging me into absolute blackness. A large, rough hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my cry of shock. A powerful arm snakes around my chest, lifting me off my feet like I weigh nothing.
I’m being stolen. Right from the entrance. My mind screams, my body thrashes, but the grip is like iron. I’m being dragged backward, out another door—the side entrance—and into the freezing, disorienting air.
I try to kick, to bite, but it’s useless. The person is too strong, too big.
My feet hit the ground, and I’m shoved forward, stumbling toward a dark, idling car parked where no car should be. And a back door is wrenched open.
14
Chapter 14
The world is a jarring, confusing mess of motion and darkness. My head bounces against what feels like a car window.
I have no idea where I am, where I’m going. I only know the cold pressure of fear and the rough texture of the burlap sack that’s been shoved over my head, smelling of dust and earth.
After what feels like an eternity, the car slows, turning sharply before rolling to a stop. Silence descends, broken only by my own ragged breathing and the ticking of the cooling engine.
A door opens. A hand grabs my arm, hauling me out of the car and onto solid, gravelly ground. I’m marched forward a few steps, a key scrapes in a lock, and I’m pushed into a room. The door shuts with a heavy, final-sounding thud.
For a moment, I’m left standing in the dark, my heart hammering. Then, hands grip the bottom of the sack and pull it upwards, off my head.
The sudden light is blinding. I blink, my eyes watering as they adjust to the dim glow of a single lamp. And when my vision clears, I’m staring at the one person in the world I should have known was responsible for this.
Raiden.
My kidnapper is Raiden Blackwell.
He looks… unwell. Worse than he did last night. His face is pale and drawn, the skin under his eyes a bruised, purple-grey, as if he hasn’t slept in days. His hair is a mess, and he’s wearing the same dark clothes he had on before.
He just stands there, a few feet away, watching me with a dead, hollowed-out expression that sends a chill down my spine.
The shock gives way to a white-hot surge of fury.
“Are you completely insane?” I yell, my voice raw and shaking. “You kidnapped me? You fucking kidnapped me? What is wrong with you?”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even blink. He just stares. His stillness is more unnerving than any physical threat.
“Let me go. Right now,” I demand, taking a step toward him. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore, Raiden. Take me back. I have a party to run.”
His dead eyes finally flicker. A muscle in his jaw clenches.
“No,” he says, his voice flat and empty. “You’re not going to the party. And Christmas is canceled.”
