Wrong Way Home - Taken (Criminal Delights 1)

Out of nowhere, the collar around Colin’s neck beeped, and he missed his step, stumbling into the mud. Fear clawed itself into his flesh as he waited for the stab of pain, but when it didn’t come, Colin ignored the dirt soaking through his pants and sought the abandoned car Taron warned him not to pass. The downpour colored everything with a stormy tint, but far off, Colin noticed a flash of red, and when he looked on, he realized that it could be nothing but the vehicle.

He was still, trying to even out his breathing despite the insistent tune of the collar.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A rhythm as steady and quick as his heart. A warning. Colin moved his legs despite his better judgement, stomach squeezed into a ball of anxiety. Now or never. He would find out if the shock was real, and if it was—if the pain was bearable.

His body was like a bag of cotton balls, but he trudged on, for once uncaring about the rain or the wind tugging him toward the rapid waters. His brain could focus only on one thing—the way the beeping sped up with each step he took. He hesitated when there were barely any breaks between the sounds left, but he would either suffer now or rot in the forest forever, so he took a tentative step and froze when the collar switched to a long, continuous signal.

There was a tingling around his neck, where the collar rested, but it was not pain. Just an itch of discomfort—something he could soon get rid of once he reached the nearest human settlement. When he took the time to think, he realized even the tingle came from his imagination.

He would be free. He would be free.

Even his gums throbbed from the exhilaration. If this wasn’t some sick test with Taron actually trailing him, then he was free already.

Free of spending his nights in a cage, free of being stuck in the woods without Internet, free to pursue his degree… Free of Taron’s hands. Free of the rabbit bacon. Free of waking up with a cat numbing his arm.

He was an idiot. The nice aspects of his time in captivity changed nothing when it came to the shock collar around his neck. If only he wanted to, he could get a cat, he could get a boyfriend, and even an allotment if he so fucking pleased. His parents didn’t need to know about any of that. If anything, they should be glad he came back.

His heart was working overtime, as if it couldn’t handle liberty anymore. Or was he just running too fast? Mud slowed him down, but he was quicker than the invisible swamp monster grabbing at his feet, and wouldn’t be pulled back, even if the stormy rain was so much colder than an empty bed.

The moment his mind went that way, the warm breakfast in bed was all he could think about. And then the kissing, the hands caressing his thighs, his torso, his face as if nothing about him was disposable.

Colin hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until he found himself looking back.

Why did he only think of the good times, not of being punched or slapped? Of crying himself to sleep, fearing for his life, or the lack of proper hygiene. If he went back now, when would he next have an opportunity like this?

Whenever, a little voice whispered.

Didn’t he now know that the collar couldn’t shock him? It only made sense to leave later, without a tornado approaching the area.

What if there wasn’t another opportunity? Staying with Taron was not an extended vacation. He was being held captive, even if in moderate comfort. Held captive by a man who hadn’t shown remorse after killing another person.

A high-pitched shriek tore through the wall of rain, pinching his heart awake again. He instinctively knew what it was, and he’d heard enough meowing in the last month to be sure. It shouldn’t matter that he might have found what he’d been supposed to look for, and yet it did. It was in his best interest to keep on moving and leave Taron to deal with his missing cat, but the animal wasn’t just a nameless being anymore. If it was Missi, then Colin knew her and the way she would sometimes lick droplets off newly watered plants in the garden. She’d come to him when he’d still been terrified of his cage, and in his head he’d already imagined the kittens she’d have.

Colin looked around. He would just make sure she was fine, maybe whistle, then run. Taron would surely take care of Missi first before even considering whether he should track his prisoner.

Colin glanced at the river flowing toward Taron’s house and forced his numb legs to move. He knew he should ignore the cat and keep walking, yet there he was, inching closer to the water when he heard another desperate meow as if he were a puppet in someone else’s hands.