49. Chapter 49
John
Icame back to myself in pieces.
Pain first. A deep, pulsing ache behind my eyes, like my skull had been split and poorly stitched back together. Then cold - concrete or cement pressing through my clothes. The smell of damp and metal and something chemical that burned my nose.
I tried to lift my hand.
Nothing happened.
Panic surged so fast it stole my breath. I tried again, harder this time - arms, legs, everything at once - and pain flared sharp and immediate as restraints bit into my wrists and ankles.
“Shit…”
The word came out hoarse, barely a sound.
I opened my eyes.
Darkness pressed in from every side, broken only by vague shapes that refused to make sense. My vision swam, the room tilting as nausea rolled through me. Somewhere nearby, rain drummed steadily. Against a window, maybe. Or a door.
I swallowed hard. My mouth tasted like blood.
“Hello?” My voice cracked. “Is anyone there?”
Nothing.
I held my breath and listened, straining for anything familiar. A car. A voice. Footsteps. All I heard was rain and the thud of my own heartbeat.
Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the room in stark white.
Basement.
The word formed before I could stop it.
Another flash, thunder this time, and a soft sound followed. A laugh.
It brushed the back of my neck, low and amused, close enough that my skin prickled.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, panic sharpening my voice. “Where am I?”
A tongue clicked in disapproval.
“John,” a man said softly. “What are you doing all tied up?”
My stomach dropped.
Footsteps moved behind me, slow and deliberate. I twisted my head, trying to see, but pain spiked and my vision blurred.
“Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want?”
The footsteps stopped.
A sigh. Almost fond.
“Come on,” the man said. “You know me.”
My heart slammed harder. “No. I don’t.”
He chuckled, low and quiet. “That’s disappointing.”
I strained against the ropes, the fibers biting deeper with every movement. My hands burned, numbness creeping into my fingers. Whoever had tied me knew exactly what they were doing.
I forced myself to breathe.
This had to be some kind of mistake. A prank. Something stupid and cruel that would end if I played along.
“Should I?” I asked carefully. “Should I remember you?”
He moved closer.
“I thought you might,” he said. “After all, she loved me first.”
The words hit like a punch.
My pulse roared in my ears. Cate’s face flashed in my mind - her laugh, her eyes, the way she said my name when she was half asleep.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “You’ve got the wrong…”
He leaned in close enough that I felt his breath against my ear.
“It makes perfect sense,” he murmured.
I jerked against the restraints, panic breaking through my careful control. “Let me go,” I said. “This isn’t funny.”
His hand settled on my shoulder.
Heavy. Claiming.
“Oh, John,” he said gently. “This was never meant to be funny.”
The grip tightened.
“It’s meant to hurt.”
The room seemed to tilt, the darkness pressing in harder as the truth began to take shape. Not fully, not yet, but enough to terrify me.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t about money.
This was about her.
And whoever stood behind me wasn’t going to let me walk away.