“Don’t worry, little dove. I’ll take care of you.”
Bile burns the back of my throat at the endearment; it’s GentAnon’s endearment for me.
The terrible reminder of what Dane really is shakes me to my core, and I suppress a shudder of pure revulsion.
“My friends will wonder where I am,” I say, still soft and detached. “I can’t be here.”
He strokes my hair as though I’m an animal that could spook at the first sign of danger; as though I’m his pet, and he’s keeping me calm.
“I used your phone to text Franklin. He knows you’re on an extended vacation with me. And you don’t need to worry about your barista job anymore. You can spend all of your time painting now.”
My lungs seize for a moment, and I force in another breath.
“Stacy will expect me at the café,” I try to reason.
“She’s already accepted your notice.” He says it like a reassurance, not a trap. “She’s been worried about you, and she didn’t even try to demand that you come in for your final two weeks. You’re free, Abigail.”
His declaration would be laughable if my situation weren’t so horrific. I’m caged in Dane’s corded arms, and he’s whisked me off to another country. I’m an ocean away from my friends, and my family won’t bother to ask after me. He’s easily extricated me from my life in Charleston with a few messages from my phone.
Finally, I open my eyes to fully assess where he’s trapped me. I know now that I’m isolated from anyone who might care to check on me.
He’s behind me, one arm pillowing my head while the other is loosely draped over my waist. He could tighten those powerful arms in an instant, so it’s imperative that I remain calm.
I blink and look at my surroundings. I’m in an opulent bedroom, and I instinctively know that this house is from another era. Everything is impeccably arranged. The furnishings are obviously antiques, and the cream wallpaper is decorated with vines and delicate birds—a style that’s clearly not contemporary.
Dane said this is his family home, and I remember that he told me he comes from nobility. This house is likely grand, which means I’ll probably struggle to find my way out quickly.
But if I can make it far enough away from him to scream for help, surely someone will hear. Someone will find me and take me away from the monster who’s holding me so tenderly.
I’m lying on a massive four-poster bed with intricate carvings on the dark mahogany. There’s a matching nightstand just in my line of vision, and a heavy brass lamp with a stained-glass shade sits atop it.
The door to the room is farther away, at least ten long strides across the patterned blue and gold rug.
I have to get out. I don’t know the layout of this house, and I don’t know how far away I am from someone who might help me.
But I have to get away from Dane before he drugs me again. Or before he violates me like he did when he was the masked man.
For so many years, I’ve frozen when threatened.
Now, my freedom depends on fighting back.
I surface from my disassociated state like I’ve broken through a heavy wave, and the world comes into sharp focus. My hand shoots out, and my fingers close around the brass lamp. I twist in Dane’s hold just as his arms begin to tense around me. I can’t afford to hesitate, not even when his gorgeous eyes flare with something like betrayal.
The stained-glass lampshade smashes against the side of his head, and his grip around me loosens.
I scramble free and leap off the bed, racing for the door.
I’m in the hallway when he bellows my name like an enraged beast.
My stomach drops. I didn’t hit him hard enough. He’s coming after me.
His lumbering steps stomp behind me, uneven at first, then quickening to match mine.
“Abigail!”
Regal portraits flicker by me on either side like I’m running through an aged film reel. There’s a grand staircase at the end of the hall, and the light is brighter there. I dash toward it, breath sawing in and out of my lungs as I push myself impossibly faster.
But his strides are so much longer than mine, and he’s pounding closer with every agonizingly long second. The hallway seems to lengthen, the light growing more distant. Aprimal scream rips from my chest as I propel myself forward, desperation clawing at my insides.
