Every muscle in Kit’s body tensed, bracing for a futile struggle. But Holden knelt next to the bed, closer to eye level, without trying to touch him.
Kit’s question was barely more than a whisper: “Why am I here, Holden?”
“I’m sorry,” Holden said again. “I can’t think right about you. I want you too much.”
That look in Holden’s eyes was familiar. Hunger, need, the moment before they kissed in the library. The moment after, when Kit’s blood sang with want.
Now, only panic flowed through Kit’s veins. Fists yanking against his bonds, Kit found his voice. “I’m not asking why you took me. Why am Ihere, Holden?” Kit’s eyes burned. “Why are we in this basement? Why is my fucking bed down here?”
Holden blinked, rocking back on his heels. “This is your bed?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Kit spat, half command and half plea. “Tell me who you are.” Kit tried to sit up, but the chain around his ankles knocked him off balance. “Who else is here?”
Holden’s brow furrowed with something like concern. “Nobody else is here, darling. It’s just you and me.” He reached out—then paused, his fingers mere inches away from Kit’s icy face. “I’m sorry. If I knew this place would upset you, I would have brought you somewhere else.”
“You don’t want to upset me,” Kit repeated, deadpan.
Holden nodded, like that was normal, not insane. “I just brought you here because the house is empty. The police cleared the crime scene weeks ago. I brought this bed down because most of the others were covered in blood.” He sighed. “And I suppose it’s poetic. This is the first place I saw you.”
Impossible.
Kit would remember Holden at one of Uncle Ed’s parties—right?
“I don’t remember that.” Kit felt too small and helpless, lying down talking to Holden. But at least Holden was listening. Maybe Kit could talk his way out of this. “Can I sit up?”
Holden stood. “I can help you.”
“I don’t need help.” Kit braced himself for Holden to try anyway.
But Holden kept his distance, watching as Kit awkwardly shoved himself onto his ass, then scooted back to lean against the wall. Pressure ached through his shoulders, and he had to tuck his feet to the side.
Kit’s heart dropped. The movement made two things clear. Bishop’s tracking coin was gone from his pocket, and Darius’s bracelet was gone from his wrist. Holden already took his phone at the party.
His men would find him. Kit was certain of that. The question was whether they would find him before or after Holden killed him.
Holden hadn’t said anything about killing him, but Kit wasn’t stupid. There were only a few reasons to drug someone, kidnap them, and chain them to a bed.
The ending became obvious when the victim could recognize and identify his abductor.
“When did you first see me?” Kit asked.
Holden sat on the edge of the bed. “I was outside. I was following Ed, and I saw Bishop take you away.” His hand tensed, clawing into the mattress. “I barely saw you. I was so short-sighted.”
Kit struggled to follow. “You were following Ed? Ed Addersen?”
“He was going to be my first kill. Bishop stole him from me.” Holden glanced up, eyes red beneath the smudge of eyeliner. “I was furious, but I don’t care about him anymore. Now I have…”
Now Holden had Kit.
“Why did you want to kill Ed?” Kit asked. Pieces started falling into place. “Joyce told us he was selling revenge porn. Did you kill him for that?”
“I didn’t care about that.” Holden shrugged. “I mean, that made it easier. Ed was scum, and nobody would miss him. But I wanted to kill him because he took my parking spot one time, when he visited Timothy last semester.”
Silence fell, before Kit burst into laughter.
The hysterics crashed over him, and Kit could only surrender. Each gasping wheeze yanked his wrists against the cuffs. His eyes stung. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop.
Holden jumped to his feet, hovering over Kit’s hysterics. “Darling, darling. Don’t be upset. Breathe, darling.”
