The car coasts back to the dead center of the lane.
I dare to peer back over at my captor. When I find him watching the road again with an unchanged expression, I exhale a slow, careful breath.
This might be more of a challenge than I anticipated.
We veer off the main highway, weaving through suburban streets where houses huddle behind high fences like frightened things. As we drive, the neighborhoods grow progressively nicer. Larger lots, taller gates, and fewer streetlights.
Wealth that desires privacy. Money that demands to be left alone.
It’s unerringly familiar.
He slows the car as we approach the massive wrought-iron gate that materializes from the darkness. The metal slides open without a sound. No code entered. No button pressed.
The car crunches over gravel, the headlights illuminating a long, curved driveway bordered by perfectly shaped shrubs.
A house more reminiscent of a modern fortress than a home stands at the end, with gray slabs that form differently sized squares squished together.
The building is all sharp angles and defensive blocks. Stone and glass and concrete combine in a structure that seems designed to repel rather than welcome. Vacant windows gape from behind white trim and dark shutters. The grass-covered yard is trimmed short like a recruit’s haircut.
The place screams high-end architecture.
Who wants to live in…
The thought stops as I look at the man who snatched me from my home.
This guy matches his house.
“Scary.” The word tumbles out before I can stop my mouth.
His cold eyes narrow. “Not if you’re good.” Stark fact, delivered with no hesitation. No question of my obedience.
I snap my mouth shut. I’m not a blind follower of orders, but what else can I do? If I fight back, if I try to run, I’m willing to bet he won’t hesitate to punish me.
For a moment, my mind slips out of this car and into the house.
Maybe, if I bolted, he’d grab me by the wrist and force me into a bedroom. If he tied me down, or tied meup, then he’d have to stay right by the bed to ensure I didn’t try anything else…
What the hell am I thinking?
I chance a glance at the man and find him still staring. My face tingles under his frigid—but no longer empty—gaze.
Was he thinking the same thing?
No way.
I dig my nails into my palms, the pain bringing me back to reality.
The chaos of the night has fried my brain cells.
He stops the car in the vacant driveway and gets out in one fluid motion.
No wasted movement. Nothing unnecessary.
The door closes with a soft click that somehow feels more threatening than a slam.
He peers at me through the windshield. “Come.”
A muffled command, not an invitation. Like I’m his dog.
