I don’t like that. I would much rather she liked me.
I think I might… This is absurd. Irrelevant. I’ve only got her with me because… I can’t really think of why, now it comes to it.
“You know, there are better ways to get people to hang out with you,” she continues conversationally.
“What?” I snarl. That’s not what I do.
“And make friends.” She stares at her bound hands.
My vision blurs for a second with fury at her implication. “They’renotmy friends.”
“No?” she replies sceptically, as thoughI’mthe one getting this obviously wrong. “Surely there are better people you could hang out with.”
My mind leaps, uninvited, to the London Mafia Syndicate. The Pakhan of Mayfair has asked me repeatedly to join their little club. And I keep refusing.
“There are apps for finding friends these days?—”
“That’s not what this is.” My voice sounds harsh, even to my own ears, and my throat burns as though I’ve inhaled the chlorine gas I use on my victims.
“Sure. Instead of calling the police and having the law deal with them, you choose to not only capture them yourself, but spend time with them.”
Tightness clenches my chest, because…Blyat.
On some level, she’s right. I think I deserve the company of these men. That I’m just as bad as them, albeit different. Immoral, yes, but not destructive of innocents and children.
“And now you’ve abducted me instead of that man,” she says after a moment. “How can I believe you? You say you’re the goodguy, but if you are, why not let me go? What if it’s the reverse? How would I know?”
“You wouldn’t,” I say harshly. “And that’s why I can’t have you telling anyone what you saw, or describing me.”
I might not be very recognisable as Blackfen, but with a description of my mask, my face, and my tattoos, I know all too well how possible it would be for the police to link me to not just today’s man, but dozens of other disappearances, some of which where the man was seen with a masked stranger.
I turn off the main road onto an anonymous-looking track that twists out of sight before getting to a high wall with a gate. It opens automatically, and then it’s only a few minutes in taut silence, and I’ve drawn up in front of my house amongst the trees.
It’s modern, with glass and wood, and I feel marginally soothed that we’re here. This isn’t the basement at Blackfen, and for once, the person I’ve kidnapped isn’t worse than me.
She’s brave when I open the passenger door. I scoop her up and carry her bridal style this time, into the house and up to the spare bedroom opposite mine.
And equally strong when I dump her onto the bed, and pull a knife from my pocket, just letting out a high-pitched, “Please, no!”
Her bonds are cut within seconds and I turn to go.
“You can’t just leave me in here!” she protests.
“Be grateful you’re not in the basement,” I growl, and her gasp suggests that hit home.
There is no basement in this house, but she doesn’t know that.
“Please! I won’t tell anyone what I saw!”
I ignore her, but it feels oddly like leaving a part of myself behind as I turn and leave the room.
The lock clicks, loud in the silence of the night.
“Let me out!” Within seconds, she’s banging on the door.
I have to fight the urge to remain with her, which is unexpected. My chest tugs towards my captive.
“Go to sleep. You’ll need to be well rested for what I have planned for you.” Whatever that is. I guess I’ll be figuring this out as I go, because this girl is unlike anyone I’ve known, never mind kidnapped.
