“Be a good tiger, and I’ll treat you after.”
Then he pulls away.
My heart plummets. “Wait!”
But he’s gone.
I don’t know how long I stand there tied to this tree.
Time stretches. Contracts. Every sound makes me flinch—the wind, a snapping twig, rustling leaves.
Don’t speak. Don’t cry. Don’t say his name.
I repeat it like a prayer.
Then I hear footsteps.
Multiple sets. Coming closer.
Voices. Male. Deep. I can’t make out the words, but the tone is aggressive.
“Where are you?” I whisper. “Wait.”
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
The footsteps stop. Silence stretches so long I think I imagined them.
Then they start again. Closer this time.
I try to loosen the restraints, twisting my wrists, pulling against the rope. It doesn’t budge. My breathing comes faster, shallower.
I can’t believe I let him lure me out here. After we just had sex. After he took Axel to rehab. After everything.
I’m getting my priorities mixed up.
I hear Koa’s voice now. Low. Calm. Talking to someone.
Then another voice. Angry. Shouting something in the distance. I can’t hear.
My mouth is dry. I’m fighting the urge to scream his name, to beg him to come back, to get me out of here.
But I obey. No names. No sound.
The voices continue. Back and forth. Sometimes overlapping. Sometimes just Koa speaking in that steady, dangerous tone he uses when he’s threatening someone.
Then nothing.
Silence so complete it makes my ears ring.
I count. One. Two. Three. Up to sixty. Then start again.
Where is he?
Finally—finally—I hear footsteps again. Single set. Moving fast.
Hands on the rope. The blindfold ripped off.
