Chapter 2
Jillian
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Her kidnapper's arms locked around her like iron bands, lifting her off the ground before she could even drag in another breath. Jillian didn't scream. Screaming wouldn't help. No one was out here. No one would hear her. No one would rescue her.
Her lungs burned from running. Her legs shook so hard she could barely stand.
With his arm wrapped around her waist, he carried her back toward the motorcycle, his grip unbreakable, his breath harsh against the side of her face.
She twisted, a weak, instinctive jerk of her shoulders, but he didn't even react.
He kept walking, boots crunching over gravel like he was hauling a bag of laundry instead of a person.
She gave up fighting. What was the point? No one knew she was gone. No one would notice her missing. Most days, her mom forgot who she was, and on good days, she had to keep reminding her that her name was Jillian and she was her daughter.
She wasn't due to work at the nursing home until Monday, though she often went over the weekend to see her mom. If she were honest with herself, there were three whole days when she could vanish, and the world wouldn't suspect a thing.
He set her down beside the motorcycle and guided her onto the seat with a rough, impatient shove.
This time, he lifted her leg, forcing her to straddle the gas tank.
He manipulated her as if she were a doll he could position wherever he wanted.
Her legs trembled, and she was weaker than she'd ever been. Fear stole everything from her.
His hands were big and terrifying as he adjusted her hips forward, pressing her closer to the handlebars.
She didn't dare look back at him. She'd seen enough already.
The shaggy, dirty-blonde hair. The tattoos.
The hard jaw and even harder eyes. His whiskers were darker, shadowing his face.
He looked like the kind of man who belonged to a motorcycle club.
Like someone she'd cross the street to avoid.
The kind who didn't care what happened to girls like her.
He climbed behind her, the seat dipping under his weight. His chest pressed against her back. His arms came around her, gripping the handlebars and keeping her imprisoned between his arms.
The engine roared to life beneath them.
She flinched, fingers tightening around the metal bar in front of her. The vibration rattled through her bones. She didn't know where he was taking her. She didn't know why. She didn't know if she'd ever see her mom again. The thought made her throat close.
The bike shot forward, gravel spitting out behind them as he tore down the road. The wind hit her like a wall, cold and sharp, stealing her breath. She ducked her chin to her chest, trying to shield her face, but it didn't help much. The night air sliced across her cheeks, numbing her skin.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time blurred into the endless rumble of the engine and the ache in her muscles from holding on.
Her eyes kept drifting shut, her head bobbing forward before she jerked awake again.
She was so tired. So cold. Her fingers were stiff, her arms shaking from gripping the bike.
Then his arm and his hand came off the handlebars.
She tensed, breath catching, but he didn't hurt her. He didn't grab her. Instead, he pulled the side of his leather jacket open with one hand, holding it out toward her like an unspoken command.
She hesitated only a second before grabbing the edge of the jacket and tucking her arm under it.
Warmth hit her immediately, the heat from his body seeping into her frozen skin.
She kept her other arm wrapped tight around his forearm, terrified that if she let go, she'd fall off the bike and he wouldn't stop.
Her eyes drifted closed again.
The next thing she knew, the wind slammed against her like a fist.
She jerked awake, gasping. Afraid of falling off the motorcycle, she held on to her kidnapper's arms. The warm cocoon of his jacket was gone. She blinked rapidly, struggling to understand what was going on.
The air was wild and full of electricity. Lightning flashed across the sky, bright enough to burn through her eyelids. The clouds above them churned, black and furious. He was riding straight into a storm, or she was having a nightmare.
Sharp stings peppered her face and arms. Rain? No—pine needles, ripped from the trees by the wind. They hit her skin like tiny needles. She curled forward, trying to shield herself, but the storm was hitting them from all sides.
The trees bent at the roadside, branches thrashing. Panic took hold of her, and there was nothing she could do without endangering her life.
A dark fog rolled across the road ahead of them, thick and unnatural, swallowing the beams of the headlight whole.
Her heart lurched. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact. They were going to hit it. They were going to crash. She was going to die on a stranger's motorcycle, and no one would even know she wasn't here by choice.
No one would explain to her mom that she was gone. Or maybe they would, but it wouldn't matter because her mom wouldn't remember or understand.
But instead of hitting a wall, the wind stopped.
The air calmed. The storm vanished. The world stilled except for the steady rumble of the motorcycle beneath her.
She lifted her head slowly, her chest quivering.
Jillian blinked. The road stretched out in front of them, but it wasn't the same one they'd been on. The pavement looked older, cracked in places, like no one had driven on it in years. Weeds were growing in the deep cracks.
The road led to a town. It looked like a scene out of an older movie. A place where someone would stop for gas and keep traveling.
The trees were different too. They were taller, darker green, their branches hanging low like they were resting.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Where... where are we?"
The words barely made it past her lips, carried away by the low rumble of the motorcycle. She never would've talked to him, but she had to know where he'd taken her.
His arm tightened around her middle, steadying her as he slowed the bike to a crawl. His breath shifted, and the tension rolled off him in waves, embracing her. He braced for trouble.
The silence pressed in on her, thick and unnatural. No wind. No frogs croaking. No moths fluttering around the streetlights. No traffic. Just the steady thrum of the engine and the pounding of her heart.
He guided the bike forward, creeping down the road like he expected something to jump out at them. Jillian's fingers dug into his forearm because, like it or not, she had no one but him to rely on if something bad happened.
A shape appeared past the trees, hanging over the street. A sign. Faded white paint. Black letters barely visible in the dim light.
EVERSTILL
Her stomach dropped. She didn't know this place. She didn't know how they got here. She didn't know how they were going to get back home. Panic clawed up her throat, sharp and choking.
She'd never traveled growing up. Her mom was a single parent who worked two, sometimes three, jobs to keep a roof over their heads.
She panted, unable to get enough air.
His hand shifted on her stomach, pressing firmly into her abdomen. "Don't," he muttered roughly against her ear. "Don't panic."
"You kidnapped me," she whispered. "I think I'm allowed to panic."
He gave no indication that he'd heard her. The bike rolled underneath the sign and deeper into the strange town.
There was a restaurant on the left. A courthouse on the right. Set back off the street, there was a grocery store. She searched for people, but there was no one around.
Deeper into the town, houses lined the street. They were older homes, worn but not abandoned. Lights glowed in a few windows, soft and warm, like people lived there. But she didn't see anyone. No cars. No movement. No sound.
Her teeth chattered, partly from cold, partly from fear. She tucked her chin again, trying to hide from the eerie stillness pressing in on her. She didn't know what this place was, but it wasn't normal. It wasn't safe.
The man behind her slowed the bike even more, his body tense against hers. He was looking around like he recognized the place. Like he'd been here before.
Jillian's breath hitched. "Where are we?" she asked again, voice barely audible.
His chest rumbled against her back as he said, "Everstill."
The quiet reverence he gave the town made her skin crawl.
He turned around in the street and headed back through town until he reached the restaurant.
He stopped the motorcycle at the side of the street.
The engine idled beneath them, the only sound in the entire town.
He made no move to get off the bike, and he kept his grip on her, not letting her get away.
His heart beat against her back. He remained alert. That terrified her more than anything else.
Jillian stared into the empty street, her breath fogging in the suddenly cool night air. She didn't know how to get home. She didn't know if she'd ever see her mom again.
All she knew was that she was alone in a strange town with a dangerous man who looked like he belonged here.
And, she didn't