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Ollie was fast asleep in his tower, and I quickly threw on a pair of boxers, ignoring how uncomfortable I felt as the fabric clung to my damp skin, or how my hair was still soaked and dripping down my neck, and grabbed the metal baseball bat from behind my door, the cold weight settling into my hands immediately.

Then I paused.

And listened.

The house was quiet in a way that felt like something inside of it was waiting for me to move first. I raised the bat and slowly walked down the corridor.

One step.

Then another.

The floorboards complained under my weight, each sound amplified in the dark. A car backfired somewhere outside and I flinched hard enough to hate myself for it. “Get a grip,” I whispered under my breath as I reached the stairs. Grabbing the banister, I carefully descended the staircase one foot at a time until I reached the cold tiles at the bottom. I raised the bat once again, gripping the tethered black tape, and slowly moved closer towards the kitchen. The white curtains above the sink were slightly shifting from the warm breeze outside. I was certain then that something was wrong—I never open that window, afraid that Ollie might slip out.

I took another step into the room, then a floorboard creaked above me, freezing me in place. I didn’t even take a breath as I strained to hear above my heart pounding in my ears.

That was when I heard it, loud and clear.

Creeeeeak.

Every muscle in my body went still at once, hardening to stone, like someone hit pause on me. I didn’t breathe as my grip tightened on the bat until my knuckles ached. Slowly, I turned my head, and through the dark, I saw it. A dark figure leaning slightly against the upstairs wall.

My pulse spiked so hard it felt like it hit my throat.

“Oi!”

I moved before my brain caught up, sprinting up the stairs, my feet pounding up the steps as I tried to catch the intruder. “Hey!” I shouted as my bedroom door was slammed shut. I grabbed the handle, shaking it violently as adrenaline overrode common sense. “Open the door!” I bellowed through the wood, anger coursing through my veins. “I said, open the door!” I dropped the bat and it bounced loudly on the floor while I shoved my shoulder into the wood, hard enough to splinter it. “Open the fucking door, right now!” I furiously shook the handle and stepped back, knowing the next hit would likely break it open.

“You have to the count of three to get out of my fucking house.” My voice was low, thunderous, and shaking with something between rage and fear, because Ollie was in that fucking room.

“One.”

“Two…”

“Three.”

Before I could even turn around, a sharp sting bit into the side of my neck. My body jerked so hard, I almost twisted around before my limbs stopped listening altogether. “What the…” I tried to force the words out, but my tongue was all wrong. “Wha…” The hallway doubled, then tripled as I staggered back, hitting the wall hard and sliding down without meaning to. “No…” I forced, but it came out slurred and broken. A figure stepped into view from the threshold of the spare room, and I tried to focus on the face, but the bastard wouldn’t stay still. Everything tilted as my body gave out completely, and I unforgivingly hit the floor on my side. Then I was rolled onto my back, and above me, the figure kneeled into view. My heartbeat was loud enough, I swore it was outside my body now when the figure leaned close…and laughed.

“Don’t worry, mate,” he beckoned softly while he brushed my hair back from my forehead, like he’d done it before.

“I’ll take good care of you.”

My mind screamed at my body to move, but nothing fucking happened.

“Just close your eyes,” he murmured. “We’ll be home soon.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JACKSON

It was the stench that roused me first, a disgusting thick plume of something foul torturing my senses. It filled my lungs before I was even fully conscious, something sour and heavy that clung to the back of my throat.

My stomach lurched violently, saliva flooding my mouth, and I fought to choke it down. “Jesus…Christ,” I rasped, the words scraping out of me. I tried to turn over in my bed, but the movement was met with resistance. I cracked open my eyes, but saw nothing but darkness—not the usual sunlight from the bay window I’d left open last night. My arms were numb and raised high above me, and pins and needles burned down into my fingers as I flexed against the restraint.

I tried to turn over again…when it hit me.

“Don’t worry mate…I’ll take good care of you.”

I jerked violently, panic snapping through me like a live wire, and slammed back into something hard as it all came rushing back to me. Cold metal bit into my wrists. “No…no, no,” I muttered, twisting instinctively, trying to break free. “What the fuck…” I whispered, my head spinning as the world tilted beneath me. The dizziness was still there, clinging to the edges of my vision, dragging everything slightly out of place.