Page 79 of Spock’s Snare

Every muscle in my body locks when footsteps sound beyond the door. The steps draw closer, unhurried and heavy, until they stop directly outside the room.

My fear is still there, cold and vicious in my chest, but something harder rises beneath it. Anger.

Steven brought me here because he thinks tying me down makes me helpless. But he’s wrong. I may not be in a position to fight him right now, but I will get out.

I stare at the closed door and curl my fingers around the rope. Somehow I’m getting out of this room. And if he comes close enough, I’m going to make him regret bringing me here.

The door opens, and Steven walks into the room carrying a plastic tray.

For one wild second, relief overrides reason. He’s alone. His hands are occupied. If I weren’t tied down, I could rush him. I could knock the tray into his face and run.

But the ropes hold me in position, helpless to do anything except watch him approach.

“You’re finally awake,” he says warmly. “I was starting to think you’d sleep all day.”

He sounds like a man greeting his girlfriend after letting her rest through a fever. There’s affection in his voice and a gentle smile on his face. The performance is so convincing that a chill ripples through me.

Steven places the tray on the mattress beside my hip. A sandwich sits on a paper plate next to a pile of potato chips. There’s also a bottle of soda with a bendable straw already pushed through the opening.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I kept it simple.”

“Where am I?”

He smooths a hand over my hair, brushing it away from my forehead. I jerk my head to the side, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“You’re home.”

“This isn’t my home. Untie me.”

“You’re safe here, Chloe.” He speaks slowly and soothingly, as though I’m confused from medication. “No one can bother you. No one can come between us.”

“Steven, listen to me. You need to let me go before this gets worse.”

“You’ve had a difficult day.” He picks up the sandwich. “You need to eat.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“You must be starving.”

He tears off a small piece and holds it near my mouth. I turn my face away.

“Spock is going to find me,” I say. “My father knows I was supposed to meet him at the site. People are already looking for me.”

Steven continues as though I haven’t spoken.

“I didn’t put mustard on it because I wasn’t sure you liked mustard. We’ll learn these things about each other with time.”

“There is no we.”

“You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I said no.”

He catches my jaw and turns my face toward him. His grip is firm but not frantic. That frightens me more than rage would. In his mind, he isn’t hurting me. He’s caring for me.

“You need to keep up your strength, sweetheart.”

Before I can clamp my lips together, he presses the piece of sandwich into my mouth. Bread sticks to my dry tongue. I try to spit it out, but he cups his hand over my mouth.