Hot tears streak down my face, but the men only laugh. “She’s waking up,” says the clown. “Drug her again.”
“No,” I moan, louder this time, my panic rising. “No—!”
But a hand fists my hair. Another cloth smothers my mouth. The sickly-sweet, chemical smell invades me again, brutal and fast. My lungs betray me.
I kick once. Then the world bends sideways. The van spins and the hands on my body blur, some rough, one more intimate. Almost gentle — yet not.
I take one final glimpse, looking for Meghan’s wicked face, for anyone familiar, but I only see masks of my kidnappers.
The heat of a tongue drags along my shoulder as I slip away.
Darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter 43
Charlotte
My eyes open. The van is gone. I am on a bed.
Clink.
I glance down. My wrists are handcuffed. A long chain links me to the wall.
Holy—
I am a prisoner!
The room is dim. Familiar, though. My heart slams against my ribs as I recognize it: Meghan’s place!
My hands shoot into my shorts. I’m not sore. Maybe those men didn’t rape me.
I try to breathe a sigh of relief, but my mouth is shut. I touch it.
Duct tape.
It’s strong. I pick at the corner. Slowly, I start to peel—
“Don’t do that,” says a deep voice, laced with warning.
My gaze snaps in that direction. A man leans against the wall, arms crossed, grotesque mask on, looking bored.
He moves toward me slowly. One foot after another. Like a predator taking his time before attacking his injured prey. He pulls off the mask.
My heartdrops.
Grayson.
I garble into the tape, voiceless and desperate to speak. Without thinking, I race from the bed, sinking my body against his tall, muscled frame.
He chuckles, his wide chest rumbling under my ear. “The little brat missed me, huh?”
I pause.
I step back and look around, reality sinking in.
Hewore a mask.Heheld me in the van.Hetasted my skin like he couldn’t get enough.
Grayson kidnapped me.
