Panic detonates so fast I almost scream his name again, but I catch it in my throat. I won’t give this lunatic the satisfaction.
I twist in his grip, kicking every inch I can reach—the shin, the knee, the side of his calf. One kick lands hard enough that he curses and staggers.
But he doesn’t let go.
The back door bangs open—
Warm air hits my skin.
Pine. Dirt. Lake water.
His car waits behind the trees, trunk already open like a mouth.
“No—NO—Michael—stop—” I thrash, clawing at anything I can grab—tree bark, the doorframe, his shirt.
He drags me across the threshold anyway.
“You’ll sleep now,” he murmurs.
Something sharp pierces my arm.
A syringe.
I gasp, shove at him with every ounce of terror left in me.My palm connects with his throat—he chokes, stumbles, but the drug is already flooding my bloodstream.
Warm.
Buzzing.
Hot and slow.
“No… no… please…” My voice slurs as my knees give out. “Ethan…”
The world tilts sideways, melting at the edges.
Sheifer’s face swims above me—smiling.
“Shh,” he croons, stroking my cheek like he has any right. “You’ll wake up with me. Just us. As it was always meant to be. Quiet. Finally quiet.”
The world fades. Darkens. Softens.
He lifts me like a rag doll, carries me to the open trunk, and tosses me inside.
The lid slams.
Dark. Too dark. No air. No music. No Ethan.
The drug pulls me under, swallowing the edges of me, stealing my voice, my fight, my name.
My last thought before the black hits is a whisper I can’t hold on to:
Ethan, please come.
Chapter 33
Ethan
Ihittheedgeof the driveway and freeze. Tire marks gouged into the dirt. Skid marks. Someone left in a rush. My stomach twists.
