Bond Trust (Crimson Hollow #11)

Chapter One

Isaac took one last look in the mirror hanging in his living room before he left to meet up with Danny. His best friend wanted to hang out at Frothy Pine tonight, a tavern filled with predatory shifters who might use Isaac as a snack, and not in a good way.

Even if it was, Isaac would come home alone, the running theme of his life over the past sixteen months.

He rubbed his sternum, the ache unbearable at times. How could he despise and crave someone in equal measure? It had been over three weeks since the last time he’d—

Stop! He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Remember the reason. Ignore the ache.

His thoughts landed back in the present when the other side of his apartment door grew teeth. Metal scraped against metal in the lock, followed by a soft click that meant someone had gotten through the first deadbolt.

Backward steps carried Isaac toward his bedroom, each footfall measured against the creaking floorboards he’d memorized years ago.

Left foot on the third plank from the wall.

Silent. Right foot diagonal to avoid the loose board near the coffee table.

His bedroom door stood open at the end of the hallway, fifteen feet that might as well have been fifteen miles.

Another scrape, but no soft click, which meant the second tumbler hadn’t given way. Yet.

Slipping into his bedroom, Isaac eased the door shut behind him. No time to grab anything. His phone was already tucked inside his back pocket. The window sat across the room, its frame painted shut last winter when the landlord had done his half-assed renovations.

Working his fingers under the sash, Isaac pulled upward. Paint cracked, loud as gunfire in the quiet apartment. He froze, listening. The scratching at the front door had stopped.

But a lifetime of survival kicked in. Gut instinct said he already knew who it was. It screamed for him to get ghost as quickly as possible.

Do not let them corner you. Do not trust anything they say. And for fuck’s sake, never, ever go back willingly.

Almost two years of freedom, and it was ending with a fucking lockpick ruining his Friday night plans.

Yanking harder, Isaac forced the window open with a grinding protest of wood against wood. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the smell of garbage from the dumpster below. Eighteen feet down to concrete. Not ideal, but better than getting caught by Whichello’s henchman.

One leg over the sill then the other and Isaac balanced on the narrow ledge. The fire escape was three windows over, too far to reach. Below, a narrow awning jutted out from the first-floor apartment. If he could drop onto it then roll to the edge...

A whispered squeak, but the door had definitely opened. Old wood never lied. Then a floorboard betrayed them, stepping on the same spots Isaac had carefully avoided. The loose board near the coffee table creaked loudly, someone moving through Isaac’s space like they belonged there.

Move. Now!

Isaac pushed off from the window with a half-assed prayer.

Physics grabbed him by the ankles like, surprise, idiot.

Air rushed past him for a heartbeat before his feet hit the awning.

The aluminum groaned under his weight, but held.

Momentum carried him forward, shoulder screaming, body rolling wrong. Gravity still clocked in.

“Really?” a familiar voice called from above. “The window? How very action movie of you.”

Marcus. One of Whichello’s favorite enforcers. Built like a brick shithouse with the personality to match.

Isaac scrambled to the edge of the awning and dropped the remaining eight feet to the alley. His knees buckled on impact, palms scraping against rough asphalt. Blood welled up from a dozen tiny cuts, but adrenaline kept the pain at bay.

“Whatever happened to basic manners?” he yelled toward his window where Marcus was leaning out. “A simple ‘hello, we’re here to kidnap you’ would’ve been appreciated.”

“We’re here to kidnap you.” Marcus rested his forearms on the sill. “Boss just wants to talk.”

Isaac didn’t want to hear anything Whichello had to say.

“Tell him to send a text like a normal person,” he hollered, already running toward the street. His beat-up Honda sat parked at the corner. The keys were still in his pocket.

Footsteps pounded behind him. Not just Marcus. At least two others, maybe three. Isaac’s red panda stirred under his skin, wanting to shift, to run faster than human legs could manage. But shifting in the middle of downtown would cause more problems than it solved.

Reaching his car, he fumbled with the keys. The lock clicked open just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, beautiful,” another enforcer, this one named Dimitri, said. “Miss me?”

Isaac took a step back.

Strong fingers wrapped around his upper arm, not painful but definitely not a suggestion.

“Come on, Isaac.” Dimitri said, his face all sharp angles and eyes alight with a cruel kind of mirth. “You make me work for this I won’t make your return pleasant.”

“So I’m just supposed to roll over? What drugs are you on?” Isaac plastered on his brightest smile. “Sweetie, I’m about to make you sweat for my kidnapping.”

Dimitri’s grip loosened for just a second, long enough for Isaac to twist away and dive into the driver’s seat. Isaac would rather screw a cactus, but the tactic worked.

The engine turned over on the first try, a minor miracle for the ancient Honda.

“Isaac—” Marcus appeared at the passenger window.

Throwing the car into Reverse, Isaac peeled out of the parking space. The rearview mirror showed all three enforcers standing in the street, not even bothering to chase him.

That should’ve been his first warning that running was futile, but pathetic hope was better than no hope.

As Isaac raced through empty streets, his mind catalogued escape routes.

The highway would take him north, toward the mountains.

South led to the city, which offered more places to hide but he didn’t have enough gas.

East or west was out of the question unless the demons would let him stop to refuel.

His phone buzzed. Once was annoying.

Twice was pressure.

Three times was a hand closing around his throat.

At a red light, Isaac glanced at the screen. Unknown number, but the message was clear: “You’re only making this harder on yourself, little panda.”

Only Whichello called him that.

The light turned green, but Isaac’s foot stayed on the brake. In the intersection ahead, three figures stood waiting. More enforcers. Behind him, headlights appeared in the mirror.

“Goddammit.” Isaac’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out. “Can you please move out of the way? Tryin’ to make a coffee run.”

Marcus’s laugh was genuinely warm, which made everything worse. Bad guys weren’t supposed to have pleasant laughs. “Not a chance in hell. Boss’ll give you all the caffeine you want. After.”

Isaac did not like that smirk. “After what?”

“After you stop running and come home.”

Home. As if that place could ever be home. Calling a cage a home was how monsters slept at night.

But with enforcers surrounding his car and nowhere left to run, Isaac’s options had dwindled to zero. His red panda chittered anxiously under his skin, recognizing the trap closing like a noose around them.

Adrenaline flooded his system like poison when he understood running wasn’t an option anymore. He didn’t want to go back willingly, but fighting would just delay the inevitable.

Dimitri opened the car door and hauled Isaac out. His grip tightened slightly before pushing Isaac toward his fate.

At the alley’s edge, where streetlight met shadow, Marcus stepped into the darkness first. Not dramatically, not like movies made it seem. Just walked forward and vanished like he’d never existed.

Too bad it doesn’t actually yeet him into the void.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac and Dimitri went next. His stomach lurched as reality folded in on itself, the sensation of falling making Isaac shout. His gut immediately revolted when they landed, that familiar nausea rising.

Isaac pushed to his feet and glanced around.

Serenity City lay in permanent night, like someone had turned the light switch off and had forgotten to flip it back on.

The place was crawling with all sorts of nonhumans who’d shown up and just never left, calling this place home.

It pretty much looked like an average city, except there was no sun or anything with wheels.

No cars lined the empty streets. No bicycles leaned against buildings.

Streets without purpose. Infrastructure without movement. A city built for beings who didn’t need momentum the way the human realm did.

Why have streets if there was no use for them?

They turned down a tree-lined drive. The mansion loomed impressive against the sky, lit from below by strategically placed streetlights. Modern architecture mixed with classical elements. Whichello’s aesthetic in a nutshell. Beautiful and cold and designed to intimidate.

They headed toward the front entrance where more enforcers waited. Isaac counted at least six, with probably more inside.

From what Isaac had heard, Whichello loved to come up with creative ways to torture poor, unsuspecting victims, making him wonder what the demon would do to him.

Whichello valued loyalty and was unforgiving of betrayal.

He hadn’t physically hurt Isaac the first time he’d been prisoner, but the night was still young.

Dimitri kept Isaac upright while they walked, which was almost nice of him if you ignored the whole kidnapping aspect.

Inside, black marble floors reflected distorted versions of everything around them. The foyer opened into a grand staircase that curved like a spine. High above them a chandelier cast shadows in directions shadows shouldn’t go. Shadows should not freelance.