I looked down at myself—covered in mud, rope still cutting into my wrists, every inch of me frozen solid. My dignity had packed up and drowned somewhere upstream.
With a sigh that came out more like a groan, I started walking.
Because apparently, the only thing left to do was make the long, humiliating trek home.
Naked. Bound.
Frozen dick and all.
The walk back was pure hell.
Every step sent spikes of pain up my bare feet, the rope still biting into my wrists. The wind knifed against my skin, my body shaking so violently I half expected to shatter on the pavement.
Somewhere in the distance, music started pounding through the night, loud, ridiculous, and way too dramatic for two in the morning.
Bonnie Tyler. “Holding Out for a Hero.”
Odd choice of song.
Headlights appeared a second later, bright and blinding, cutting through the dark. I squinted, wondering if I needed to throw myself into the ditch because it was another masked madman coming back for round two.
And also wondering if I was even capable of doing something like that.
But the vehicle wasn’t slowing down.
It roared closer, the song getting louder, until I could make out the shape of a Jeep.
A familiar Jeep.
I blinked once. And then blinked again.
Was I hallucinating?
Because through the windshield, I could see a familiar-looking guy in a baseball cap drumming on the steering wheel, singing at the top of his lungs—completely oblivious to the naked, half-frozen idiot standing in the road.
The Jeep continued to approach, and the driver finally locked eyes with me.
Jace.
His jaw dropped, eyes bugging out, disbelief written all over his face. The Jeep shot past, tires screeching as he slammed the brakes a few yards too late.
For a second, I just stood there, blinking at the taillights, too tired and frozen to move.
Then the tires squealed again as he threw it into reverse, “Holding Out for a Hero” still blasting at full volume. The Jeep fishtailed, spun halfway, then roared back toward me.
I didn’t even bother walking to meet it. I just waited.
Because if I’d made it this far naked, bound, and half dead, the least my best friend could do was come the last ten feet.
The Jeep skidded to a stop in front of where I was standing, tires squealing one last time before the engine idled. Bonnie Tyler was still belting her heart out about needing a hero, thelyrics echoing through the empty road like the soundtrack to my humiliation.
The driver’s door flew open, and Jace jumped out, slamming it closed behind him.
“Matty?” His voice was pitched halfway between disbelief and panic as he raced toward me…before freezing mid-step, eyes darting down and then immediately away like he’d seen something medically concerning.
“Yes. I know I’m naked, caked in mud, my hands are tied behind my back, and I probably look like the before picture in a very illegal experiment. But please, take me home,” I growled.
“What the hell did the Sphinx do to you?” he demanded, his voice cracking. “Was this, like, arebirththing? Should I start chanting?”
