Chapter 33
My eyes burn when they finally take my hood off. The lights are so bright after the long darkness. I blink the black specks away, giving whoever released me time to leave the room and shut the door behind them with a metallic thump, followed by the click of the lock.
I’m in a bedroom. No windows, so while everything looks fairly normal, it feels like a prison cell.
Everything is shades of red and pink, with small touches of baby blue and white.
There are generic paintings on the walls: swans on a lake, horses in a meadow, that sort of thing.
Every surface has a vase on it, packed with slightly wilted flowers.
It all feels very deliberate and kind of creepy.
Surprisingly, I’m not bound in any way. No blindfold or cuffs or anything. Not that I have much experience being a captive outside of Saving the World, when I was locked in a cell with Toby, waiting for Erika to break us out. I’d always imagined handcuffs or chains or a cage or something.
I laugh out loud, clapping my hand over my mouth in surprise.
The panic is making me a little crazy.
When they pulled me out of the van, Mom didn’t say a word.
Just disappeared one way while I was led in a different direction.
I wonder how long Colt waited. Are they already on their way?
Someone had to see what happened, right?
They kidnapped me right out of my own building in the middle of downtown.
Okay. What would Desdemona do?
Take stock of where I am and see what I have available. I start looking for ways out. The door is the obvious first choice, but equally obviously, it’s locked. I put my ear up against it, listening for anything on the other side. Not much. Some dull thumps, but the door seems thick.
I search the rest of the room, looking for anything that might be helpful. There’s probably not going to be a secret panel hidden behind a painting, but even knowing if there are cameras somewhere would be nice. There isn’t much to look through except the dresser, and…
Oh my God.
Pictures, so many pictures. And they’re all of me.
Candids, promos, newspaper cuttings, printouts, they’re all put together into a crazy stalker scrapbook.
Oh, I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Like really, really bad.
On the bright side, this is a good indicator that whoever is behind this isn’t out to kill me. At least not right away. On the other hand, I might wish they were. I get chills and hug myself, rubbing my arms with my hands to warm myself up. It doesn’t work.
But who—
The lock in the door clicks.
Panicked, I shove the scrapbook back in place and look around for somewhere to hide, or a weapon to pick up. Anything to slow down what feels like the inevitable, but there’s nothing. I back up against the far wall and wait as the door slowly opens.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised to see Romero, but I am. “Quinn.” He smiles.
“What’s going on?” I ask, faking innocence.
It makes sense in a creepy sort of way. How else would Mom be so involved? But sending flowers to your girlfriend’s daughter doesn’t need to mean a crazy stalker bedroom.
“You’re a smart girl, Quinn,” he says calmly. “Let’s not pretend around each other, alright?”
This is the sort of thing that should only happen in the movies. Here’s hoping that the heroes save the day at the end, and that I’m not victim number one in a serial slasher flick instead. I really wish I had a script to check.
“What are you doing? You can’t just kidnap me.” Other than the fact that he just did. But someone must’ve noticed, right? “Where’s my mother?”
“Sheila? Around.” He gestures vaguely, like it doesn’t matter.
“My hand was forced somewhat, I’m afraid.
If people had simply followed directions from the start, this could’ve been much less stressful for all of us.
Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He closes the door behind him.
Not locked, but there’s no way I can slip past and open it without him having time to stop me.
“Do you really think I’d eat or drink anything you brought me?” I press my back against the wall even harder, willing myself to just phase straight through it.
“Quinn, I’d never want to hurt you. I thought that had to be obvious.” He sits down on the bed, watching me like a hawk. “This was meant to be.”
Creepy yes. But batshit insane? Also yes. Holy crap. Did he forget that getting drugged was how this whole thing started for me?
“You can just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. You can’t just keep me here forever.”
He laughs. “It doesn’t have to be forever. Just until you have time to calm down and accept your new situation. I don’t think it’ll take long. This room is a bit drab, but when you earn the right to use the rest of the house, I think you’ll be quite pleased.”
I keep expecting him to lunge at me or something, but he seems happy to just sit there and watch.
If I try to run, what happens then? Half of me wants to try, the other one is convinced he’s going to take it extremely personally.
I haven’t been here long, what I need to do now is buy myself time for the guys to figure out where I am.
“What does Mom think about this? She loves you.” Maybe. I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem hung up on reality.
“Sheila? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just an older, inferior version of you.
All it took was a little flattery and some money to make her do whatever I wanted.
You deserve better.” He pats the bed next to him.
“Come sit with me. I know this is stressful, but if you give me a chance I think you’ll see we have a lot in common. We have all the time in the world.”
I almost feel sorry for Mom, even with everything that she’s done. She’s so desperate for validation that she’s willing to do whatever it takes just to earn the attention of a man who doesn’t even like her. “I’m fine over here, thanks.”
“What do you think is going to happen? Miraculous rescue by your biker friends? They don’t even know where we are.”
I have to try. Launching from the wall, I make a run for the door. If I can just get through it, I can—
His strong arms catch me and pull me back towards the bed. “Quinn, I’m disappointed. You know better, and I can’t have you running off like that.”
“Let… me… go!” I try to kick him, but he deflects it and twists, throwing me on the bed. I roll onto it and sit up in a crouch, waiting for him to come at me. He doesn’t, just stands across from me and shakes his head.
“I didn’t want to start our relationship on such a sour note, but maybe you need some incentive to stay put. What would you say if I told you your brother is alive? That he’s been alive this whole time, working for me.”
I blink. What’s his angle?
I have to assume he doesn’t know that Axel already revealed himself to us, which means they are connected in some way. “I don’t believe you.”
I need to buy time while I think, so I play it straight. If there’s anything I do know how to do after all, it’s act. “He died ten years ago. I was at the funeral.”
“And it was very touching, wasn’t it? Too bad the ashes weren’t his.
I know, because I’m the one who saved him.
I gave him a new life. A chance to prove himself and to grow.
Even if you think there’s a tiny chance I’m telling the truth, shouldn’t you listen to me?
Cooperate and I’ll make sure you get to see him again. Unharmed.”
“All you want me to do is listen?” I cross my arms over my chest and try to look tough, but inside I’m screaming in horror.
“I’m not going to blackmail you into sex if that’s what you’re implying.
That will come with time, as you grow to understand our bond.
But I can’t have you running away, so here’s my proposal.
Give me a real chance, and I won’t hurt your brother.
Or keep fighting or trying to run and I’ll take pieces out of him until you change your mind. ”
Bile rises in my throat. Does he have Axel? Should I have gone with him yesterday? Or did I waste the only chance I had to talk to my brother before this madman chops us both up into bite sized cubes?
“If you can bring me proof that Axel is alive and unhurt, then I promise I’ll cooperate.”
He squints, studying me. “Alright, I’ll—”
Something out there explodes.