Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Fear races through me from his tone and the urgency as I grab my keys and head out, not waiting for the explanation, although he gives it to me.
“Holden separated the internal security team,” Joshua says. “Said that there was a suspicious person outside.”
The only thing I can think is that he’s hurt her. I have no fucking idea who Holden is or how he knows anything about her past unless she told him. Fear runs rampant in every move I make as we rush to the car.
“I swear to God—”
“I know,” he says. “Trust me, if he hurts her, you won’t need to. I’ll fucking kill him myself beforehand.”
KIERSTEN
Present
When I wake up, the first sensation I have is one of motion. It’s weird that you can sense that sort of thing, even when you’re not accelerating or decelerating. But there’s this unmistakable feeling to riding in a car that just says, you’re in a car.
But . . . how? Why? And why am I lying horizontally? I make a move to sit up, but my head whirls like I’m going to pass out.
I try to open my eyes, but there’s something over them. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m blindfolded, with only a dim light sort of coming through the weave of whatever cloth has been tied around my eyes.
My heart pounds at the realization. Fear cripples me.
Slowly and quietly, with my heart racing, I try to figure out what the hell is going on. My wrists are tied together in front of me, but I can move my arms. A blindfold that I could very well remove, but the moment I think to do it, a voice chills me to my bones.
“Don’t try and reach for the blindfold,” Holden says from in front of me, and it steals my breath. A slight bump at about my waist confirms for me that I’m in a car, and I’m probably laid across the rear seats. My heart races as panic sets in.
Holden? My voice is caught in my throat. What happened?
“You know, one of the nice side perks about working for you for these last couple of years . . . I’ve learned all sorts of little skills.” His tone is menacing, not at all like the Holden I know. My throat dries, and I struggle to believe this is real. It must be a nightmare.
“Like those bondage displays and lessons that the club has all the time. It’s almost comical how easy it is to loop the wrists to the neck to make sure you stay right where you are. I’d have done your ankles too . . . but I’m no monster.”
“Holden, what are you doing?” I ask in nearly a whisper, swallowing my fear.
Holden replies with a dark chuckle. “Stay quiet. We’re almost where we can talk.”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as reality sets in. Does Joshua know? Does Gabriel? Questions and fear bombard me to the point that I almost can’t breathe.
All I can do is try not to panic. Although I’m on the edge of failing that task.
“Holden?” I question, again wishing this was only a terror in my dreams.
“Shut up.” His cold, unfeeling response guts me. It takes me a moment, maybe a long time, I don’t even know. But I breathe and I attempt to make sense of anything I can.
I listen, trying to gather whatever information I can to figure out where we are. But Holden’s car is soundproofed very well, and I can’t hear anything outside the soft rush of the engine and tires on pavement.
When we come to a stop and Holden shuts off the car, my pulse races and the panic of the unknown rages inside me.
With the car off and the silence setting in, he cuts through it before I gather the courage to speak.
“What do you want to ask me? One question.”
“Are you . . . the stalker?” I ask, trying to remain calm. “The one who threw the rock?”
“And the one who left the note under Gabriel’s windshield wiper,” Holden confirms. “Come on, time to get out.”
Fear is palpable, and my limbs go stiff. Fuck. No, this can’t be happening.
Make it stop. I would give anything to make it stop.
“But why?” I cry out, unable to keep the panic at bay. None of this makes sense. “Why are you doing this?”
“You only had one question,” he says dryly before the click of the door and a dull beep alert me that the driver’s side door has opened.
Thump, thump, thump, my heart hammers.
A moment later, the door by my head opens. I can’t help but scream as strong hands grip me under the armpits and Holden pulls me out of the car, forcing me stand up before taking my bound wrists in hand.