His men pull me to my feet but I’m already wobbly from the drug. They have to hold me up and my feet drag across the floor as we leave the apartment.
The elevator door is open and waiting, the unfamiliar operator pressing the buttons for the lowest garage level where deliveries come in.
And then I just… fade away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – MASON
I come to a few times before I really have enough sense to realize I’m awake. It takes a few more times before I remember what happened and another thirty seconds to open my eyes and realize I’m… at home. In bed.
I turn over, trying to see my clock, and then groan loudly. “Fuuuuuck.” Because my head is pounding.
No clue what happens to time after that. It just fades because the next time I wake up it’s dark and it wasn’t the last time I opened my eyes.
“Lyssa,” I whisper.
I reach for her. Hopeful that I was just dreaming. That we never woke up, never walked through the park or went up to her apartment.
But the bed is empty except for me.
“Lyssa,” I moan. “What the fuck happened?”
Her stepfather. I remember now. Her stepfather was waiting when we walked in. I guess that asshole really does have a team of mercenaries. Because they shot me with something.
I pat my chest with my eyes closed, checking for a wound. Then remember I was hit in the neck.
“Ahhh,” I groan. Yeah. That hurts when I touch it. A swollen lump has risen up from the muscle.
When I finally have enough coordination and sense to sit up and swing my feet over the side of the mattress, I have to hold my head in my hands to handle the throbbing.
I glance at the clock. It says five AM.
But the date is what stops me cold. Three days. I’ve been out for three days.
That motherfucker could’ve killed me.
My stomach is rumbling. My mouth is dry. I could’ve died of dehydration.
And he took Lyssa.
Oh, I am just pissed off now.
When I can walk I go straight for the bathroom and gulp water from the sink. Then turn on the shower and sit in it until I almost feel normal.
The next time I look at the clock I’m pulling on clothes and it says it’s past six now.
I need to get out to that estate. I can still get her before the wedding. Still save her like I promised.
What must she think of me right now?
My cell rings and I realize it’s on the kitchen counter.
‘Blocked Call’ lights up on the screen.
But I don’t need to see a name to know who’s calling. I tab accept and say, “What?”
“I’m very happy you’re awake, Mr. Macintyre.”
“You motherfucker,” I say. “Where’s Lyssa?”
“She’s at home. Where she belongs.”
“You can’t just drug people and then take them against their will.”
“No,” he says. “I suppose that would be a very bad idea. Probably be considered kidnapping. Probably spend a lot of time in prison for that. You would know, right? You kidnapped her the weekend before last. You’re practically a pro at kidnapping.”
“You hired me, you piece of shit.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Lyssa knows—”
“Lyssa knows, yes. She has described her encounters with you in great detail. I never pegged you as a rapist, Macintyre. I should’ve done a better background check.”
Rapist. Kidnapper.
So that’s the game he wants to play.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask.
“Just stay away, Mason. That’s it. You got your money. Your mother is getting her treatment. Leave it alone. Your job is done and I’m sorry for drugging you, but Lyssa has a destiny and you are not part of it.”
No. I shake my head and lean against the kitchen counter. No. This isn’t how it ends.
“You’re sick, you know that?” I say.
“I’m just her father, Mason. I love her.”
“You love her?” I say.
“Of course. She’s my most precious possession in the entire world. And I’ve spent the last twenty years putting this plan in place.”
“What plan?”
“Hm,” he says. And I can tell he’s smiling. Maybe even laughing. “I’m afraid that’s my personal business, son. But your job is done, you did it well. She’s better. Thank you for that. She morphed right back into the compliant little girl I need her to be now.”
“What?”
“So be a good boy now and just run along. Forget about my daughter. Believe me, she has forgotten about you. She’s home now. In her room. Happy and content being… herself.”
“No,” I say. “That’s not her. I don’t know what you did, but that’s not her. I saw the real her that first night I met her. Everything else… that’s you.”
“Hmmm,” he says again. I know what that noise means now. Not just smiling or laughter. It’s satisfaction. “Bye, Mason. Thank you for breaking her for me.”
And the call fails.
What the fuck just happened?