Chapter 92
Maple
@JoelMTBchamp, TikTok
Remember Selena Hart made up a bullshit story about Ella going to dance with the Royal Ballet. This Blake dude might just be more clickbait fantasy cooked up by the Clarks
‘Come on, eat.’ Brandon’s voice is quiet but intense. ‘I made it specially for you. Mac ’n’ cheese with ham, your favorite.’
I look down at the plate of food. Thick creamy sauce, yellow pasta, pale pink slivers that look like kitten tongues.
He’s right that I’ve called this my favorite meal before, but I don’t know how because it looks disgusting now.
He reaches out, curls his hot, sweaty hand around my neck.
It’s not painful, but it’s intimate, which makes it worse.
‘Maple, don’t let me down after all the effort I’ve been to.’
His hand slips away, and the relief gives me just enough energy to lift my fork.
But that’s it. My hands are in handcuffs – my legs too this time – and the chain between them is short.
As it pulls taut, I want to scream. How does he think me sharing a meal with him like this is normal behavior?
I’m his prisoner, for fuck’s sake. I lower the fork again, swallow a sob.
He leans toward me, his hot, damp breath landing on my cheek.
‘Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,’ he says quietly.
‘I’m a reasonable guy; I know you need a bit of time to settle in.
But if you don’t make any effort, well, that’s gonna rile me, you know?
And then I’ll start wondering why I’m being so patient. ’
He takes my chin, gentle but firm, and pulls it round until our eyes meet.
His are a faded blue, more tired than alert, I see that now.
He’s clean-shaven, short-haired, with nothing special about his face.
He looks like a regular guy, not the kind of man who drugs girls and then chains them up. Except what do those men look like?
‘Why do you want me here?’ I whisper, my heart booming, just for asking a question. Then it slows, maybe even stops, when his eyes move down my body.
‘From the moment I first saw you,’ he says, ‘I had a feeling that we’d end up together.
Like it was our destiny. I thought it might happen differently, more mutually, you know.
But sometimes one person needs to take the initiative, don’t they?
’ He sighs and his eyes go hazy. ‘I imagine it was a little scary for you, waking up in a strange house. But I promise I’ll make it up to you. ’
He leans closer, nuzzles his face into my neck. I jerk away on instinct. I’m scared he’ll get mad, hit me or something. But he just laughs, like he gets off on humiliating me, and it causes some anger to flicker in my belly. ‘But I don’t want you to,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to be here.’
The laughter dies. He clicks his tongue. ‘Well, spoilt influencer brats don’t always get what they want, Maybe Maple.’
I blink away his warning. ‘The bus station will have heaps of CCTV,’ I say. ‘And my friend Coco will have called the police too. They’ll find your truck, run your license plate. There’s no way they won’t find us.’
‘You think so, huh?’ His voice is so calm; I want to scratch at his throat. ‘Do you remember anything about getting here?’ he continues. ‘The different routes we took, how I changed my plates, where we even are?’
Acid swirls in my gut. I look away, will myself not to cry. Because of course I don’t.
‘No one’s coming for you, Maple,’ he continues, smug now. ‘Just like no one looked for Ella.’
I jolt. The name hits like a firework exploding in my ear. When I woke up here, I figured Brandon claiming to know where Ella lived was bullshit, just a way to coax me to Vegas. But is that wrong? Is taking girls what he does?
Or maybe I’m being stupid. Ella has been gone for eighteen months, and thanks to Dylan and me, the whole world knows that she’s still missing, that no one has cared enough to look.
‘Do you know where Ella is?’ I murmur. ‘Please, I just want the truth.’
‘Oh come on, Maple. The truth doesn’t exist anymore. You know that just as well as I do.’