“I don’t feel like it. Besides, your family doesn’t like me?—”
“That’s not true. Theyloveyou as much as I do.”
Both lies.
As he wanders closer, his phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with a photo…of what appears to be a naked woman. He taps the phone off and stuffs it into his pocket.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“What?” His hands spread wide at his sides. “Some of the guys are messing with me.”
“You know my dad won’t like you being up here with me.” I set the empty goblet on my dresser.
“Pfft, right. He loves me.” Talon approaches slowly, attempting to lace his arms around me. “And he can’t wait until we give them grandchildren.”
My shoulder shoves him back. “I want to be alone. Take a pie. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“What the fuck, fancy feet? First, you take me to aThetabar night to get the shit beat out of me. Then youleave me thereto barely escape with my life. And you didn’t even ask me over here for dinner. I had to guess what time and show up!”
“I’m a terrible girlfriend. You should get mad, leave, and listen to some screamo in your car about howpsychowomen are.” I flutter my hand in the air, flushing him away from me. “You know,not here.”
He groans. “You are such a fucking bitch sometimes.”
“Yes. I am.”
Narrowing his eyes, he spits out, “I guess I never stood a chance, huh? Not once.”
Crossing my arms, I muster up as casual a look as possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He hesitates, but his phone buzzes again. An unspoken menace between us. “Fine. I’ll come back tomorrow, then.”
As he turns to leave, checking out another nude pic sent to him, I whisper, “Please don’t.”
The holiday weekenddrags like a hand wrapped around my throat, tightening with every hour. I spend most of it barricaded in my room, scrolling mindlessly, refreshing Aiden’s socials, checking for updates that never come.
No texts. No calls.
Nothing.
Is he finished with me?
Did I cross the line?
If so, it only proves what a liar he’s always been. The boy who swore I was his, no matter what. Who said it didn’t matter who we were with—that he’d come for me. Take me. We’d run away together.
It’s easy to promise forever when you know the clock will run out.
By Sunday night, the silence feels like a deep bruise. I fall asleep anyway.
Hands clamp around me. Tighten on my arms.
I’m thrashing, but my screams are swallowed against a gag. A blindfold seals me in darkness. I’m wrenched sideways, shoved forward, tossed like a dead weight in the hull of a ship during a storm.
Somewhere between fear and disbelief, I tell myself to wake up.
When I rip my eyes open, there’s nothing but black. My wrists are bound in front of me. I’m thrown into what feels like a hard box. The sound of metal slams overhead. Then the hum of an engine below me. Steady, growling, carrying me away.
I’m being kidnapped.