Using me because no women were around.
Fucking bastard.
I didn't hate Jack, but I was growing damn close. I hadn't expected hearts and roses from the guy, but a little human decency might have been nice. Maybe that's why he had decided to fuck me, because he didn't think gay men had any morals. He thought I was a whore. He'd made that perfectly clear.
I obviously needed to go back to Massachusetts.
Shit!
I hadn't realized I had walked so far away from Ian's house until two men climbed out of the dark sedan and started toward me. I didn't know what their intent was, but I knew I wasn't sticking around to find out.
I turned and ran.
I screamed when something pricked me in the neck. I stumbled when my legs grew weak and wobbled. I fell to my knees. My hand trembled as I reached up and slapped my neck. I pulled something out. I frowned at the feather tipped dart right before I dropped to the ground.
"Ian!" I screamed in my mind, not sure if he would hear me or not.
I couldn't do anything to prevent them from grabbing me, but I could bury the dart into the crack in the sidewalk. Hopefully, someone would spot it when—or if—they came looking for me.
I didn't know what was in it, but I did know it made it impossible for me to move. I was still fully conscious, just immobile. I felt every bump and jerk as I was carried back to the sedan and laid down in the backseat.
I heard shouting as we drove away.
That was a plus.
"Kaito, where are you?" Ian shouted into my head.
Oh, thank god.
"Those men we saw in the sedan. They shot me with a dart. I don't know what was in it, but I can't move. I left the dart on the sidewalk. Find it and figure out what they shot me with."
"Fuck the dart, Kaito," Ian snapped. "I want to find you."
"Yeah, well, I don't know where I am, so the dart is our best lead to finding me."
"Can you shift?"
"What part of 'can't move' don't you understand?"
"Just asking."
I heaved a breath and tried to calm myself. I shouldn't be shouting at Ian. He was just trying to help. "No, I can't shift. I can't even move my fingers. I can't move any part of me except breathing."
"Hank wants to know if you can tell anything about where you're going, like railroad tracks or traffic lights. Noises that stand out to you."
"Bread," I said. "I smell fresh-baked bread."
And it was making me hungry.
"Okay, that's a start. Tell me if anything else that stands out to you."
"Well, I think we're going fairly fast. The street lights I can see out the window are passing by at a very fast pace." I was lying down in the backseat of the car. What I could see out the window was pretty minuscule. I could just see out the top of the window and the sky above.
"That probably means you're on the highway."
Probably.
I was so going back to Massachusetts after this.
