Chapter 12 Violet
Violet
I was pretty sure my heart was trying to escape my ribs with how hard it was racing. My hand ached, probably from how tight I gripped the handle of the bloody frying pan. Or it could be from the force with which I’d hit the intruder’s head.
I was honestly running on pure panic, and of course the one time my home is broken into, I’d hidden all the knives.
“Ryder?” I nudged him slightly in the side with my toes, and when he didn’t move, I looked around to find a backpack that definitely wasn’t mine.
What the hell was he planning to do with ropes?
My stomach dropped as if I’d swallowed ice. Glancing over, I found Ryder hadn’t moved an inch, still slumped on the floor where he’d fallen, the vanity on its side beside him. I couldn’t see blood, so I hadn’t hit him that hard.
Right?
Nibbling my bottom lip, I reached for my phone, but I found myself hesitating at calling for help.
What was he doing here?
What was he searching for?
It was clear I wasn’t thinking straight because instead of calling the police, I bolted to fetch a chair, dragging it back into my bedroom with the wild idea of somehow lifting him into it. In reality, it was more of a clumsy drag considering he was far bigger than me and also weighed a ton.
When I finally got him onto the chair, he slumped awkwardly as I tried to tie him with his own rope.
Okay, so tied was a generous word. I clearly had no idea what I was doing. I’d just looped it around him a few times and knotted it wherever it seemed like the right spot.
What the fuck was going on? I’d only popped over to the corner shop and came back to find Ryder rummaging around in my bedroom.
He let out a groan, his head slumped forward.
I still itched to call for help, and honestly that was what any sane person would have done. “What is all this?” I asked him instead when he made another sound.
When he gave no other indication that he was conscious, I found my eyes drawn to the strange book on the floor, the same one Ryder had been holding before I’d hit him.
My fingers skimmed over the cover of the children’s fairytale, and when I opened it, I discovered it had been hollowed out.
The pages were roughly cut, the edges sharp and ragged.
Tucked inside were neatly folded newspaper articles, spanning decades and printed in multiple languages.
Some were recent, and from the English ones I could decipher, every story seemed to be about missing girls.
As I pulled them out, more was revealed beneath.
Photograph after photograph of young girls, their bodies mottled with bruises, spanning a range of ages and ethnicities.
Some shots were taken from odd, strange angles, as if the photographer had been hiding and the women had no idea they were being watched.
There was one more photo, but this was someone I recognised.
Mum stood there, no older than mid to late teens, staring at something behind the lens. She looked… terrified. Exhausted. Lost.
My fingers traced the worn surface, and that’s when I saw it. The same necklace I wore now, a gold disk engraved with a single violet flower.
“Looks like dear old mum’s been keeping secrets,” a voice mused, and looking up I found Ryder watching me curiously. “Do you know, I’ve had a fantasy like this?” He gestured to the ropes. “But our roles were reversed and I was covered in melted chocolate.”
I immediately grabbed the pan, lifting it in what I hoped was a threatening way. “What is all this?”
“Christ, is that a frying pan?”
I gripped the handle tighter.
“Don’t suppose there was a thumb drive in that book?” he asked casually, as if he wasn’t currently tied to the chair. “You know, a USB?”
“What were you doing here?” I hissed. “What is all this?”
Ryder gave a half-shrug. “You’d have to ask your mum; she’s the one who hid it.” In a sudden burst, he was on his feet, the ropes dropping to the floor almost comically. In any other situation I would’ve laughed, but instead I swung the pan in panic.
Only for Ryder’s hand to shoot up, catching it mid-arc.
“Okay,” he said evenly, pulling it out of my grip, “let’s just both calm down.”
I immediately reached for the closest thing, a pillow, and threw it at him.
Ryder didn’t even flinch, the pillow smacking him square in the face. I was already reaching for the next thing, my fingers closing around a lamp.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warned.
“Fuck you.” I threw it, and this time Ryder ducked, the lamp shattering against the wall behind him. He glanced back at the wreckage, but by the time he returned his attention to me I was already armed with something else and flinging it in his direction.
“Stop throwing shit at me!”
I didn’t stop, frustrated that I’d tied him near the only exit. It left me trapped, so I clumsily lifted the mattress, grabbing for one of the knives.
Ryder was already there, reaching for my wrists and yanking them above my head.
“Help!” I screamed, twisting and kicking out before he muffled a curse.
The knife was yanked from my fingers, and then his arms locked around me, crushing my back to his chest. His other hand clamped over my lips before I could call out again.
“Okay, let’s start this again, shall we?” Ryder’s grip tightened, the heat of his chest pressing through my back like a brand. “I’m trying—”
I kicked at his feet, using my heel on his toes.
A grunt, “Not to—”
Twisting awkwardly, I drove my knee upward, only for him to shift at the last second, and I struck his hip instead of the place I was aiming for. Ryder hissed, shoving me until I was pressed between him and the wall, leaving no more room for me to squirm.
“Hurt you,” he finished.
My breathing came in ragged gasps, my adrenaline waning as I struggled to calm my pulse.
“Are you done?” he growled, twisting me once more so my back hit the wall. He loomed, pinning my wrists high above my head with one unyielding hand. His knee wedged between my legs, forcing me up onto my toes, straining for balance.
I spat out a reply, but it was lost against the press of his palm over my mouth.
“Careful, or I’ll think you’re just flirting with… ow!”
He pulled his hand back when I bit him, shaking it as if to ease the slight sting.
“Hel—!” I began, only for fingers to suddenly constrict my throat.
“Fuck me, blondie. You’re really not making this easy,” his voice rumbled, brushing against my cheek like a dark whisper. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and stop trying to hit me with household furnishings, or are we going to have a problem?”
I thought about it a moment before giving him a jerky nod, as much as I could with his grip around my throat.
His fingers tightened a fraction before he eased away, his eyes never leaving mine.
I pressed myself harder against the wall, as if I could disappear into it. “What are you doing here?” I rasped, the sound more of a croak.
“I’m looking for a USB drive.”
“A what?”
“It’s something your mother stole, and my employer wants it back.”
I looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Mum hasn’t stolen anything.”
Ryder’s lips pursed as he roughly raked his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t got time for this. Where is she?”
I swallowed, weighing my chances of reaching the door before he caught me. Judging by the mess I’d already made of things, the answer was a hard no. “She’s gone.”
Ryder stepped forward, then stopped short when I recoiled. “What do you mean she’s gone? Fuck!”
“Oh my God, have you been stalking me to get to my mum?” I couldn’t decide which was worse, Ryder breaking in with a suspicious amount of rope, or the fact it was meant for her.
“You make it sound pervy.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not—”
Ryder and I froze at the distinctive sound of the front door slamming shut, eyes locking.
“Please tell me that’s your overprotective lizard friend,” he whispered, leaning to peek through the doorway. He jerked back, thrusting the knife into my hand and snatching the pan from the floor. “Don’t stab me.”
With a sharp look he stepped back to hide behind the bedroom door, leaving me to stand there dumbfounded as footsteps approached.