Without Remorse

Nicholas didn’t stir as she moved around the room. Sloane bit her lip and then tiptoed over to the phone. This was trickier because it sat on the nightstand between the two beds. She lifted the phone off its cradle, wincing at the slightest noise it made, and lifted it to her ear.

Nicholas might not have needed to tie her up like he had the man in the bathroom because he knew she was trapped by her own phobias, but she could still call the cops to come and help.

…Except there was no dial tone. Frowning, she tapped the little clicky part to try to hang up and try again, but still no dial tone. Which was when she picked up the entire phone and found there was no cord leading to the wall. She huffed out an annoyed breath.

So Nicholas wasn’t an idiot. She guessed she knew that already. She dropped the phone back to the nightstand but Nicholas didn’t stir. She stuck out her tongue at him then, furious but powerless, she sat back and watched TV for the rest of the night.

“It’s you and me, kitty,” she whispered, stroking Ramona over and over.

Chapter 11

SLOANE

Sloane woke to Ramona meowing and batting at her face.

“Jesus, what?” Sloane blinked her eyes open, immediately looking for Nicholas on the opposite bed…only to find him gone.

She frowned, catching glimpse of a scribbled note on his perfectly made bed. But before she could reach for it to see what it said, Ramona was meowing even louder and jumping on her again.

“What is with y—?” she started to ask, when another voice cut her off.

“So kind of him to leave the two of us alone.”

Sloane’s head jerked in the direction of the bathroom and she screamed, “Nicholas!” at the top of her lungs as soon as she saw Oliver upright and coming towards her. Somehow he’d gotten free of the zip ties.

She scrambled backwards at the same time as he lunged. She rolled off the other side of the bed and landed on her knees between her bed and Nicholas’s. She tried to spring up again and dive over his bed, but she wasn’t quick enough.

Olly landed with all of his weight on her. He wasn’t a large man, but she saw he had a goddamn syringe in his hand. And the way he had her pinned, both of her arms underneath his knees—

She fought against his hold but couldn’t wriggle out from underneath his weight. His face was contorted and ugly as he looked down at her.

“I always loved watching you sleep,” he hissed. “I dreamed about what it would be like to be there with you. I get nervous around girls. I mean, women. But I knew it would be different with you.”

Sloane fought even harder to buck him off her and he scowled and held up the syringe.

“Still,” he went on. “I think it might be best if you’re like my dolls for our first time together. Beautiful, silent,” he leaned over and breathed in her face, crushing her chest and squeezing all the breath out of her lungs, “and absolutely still.”

“What about Nicholas?” she asked desperately. “He’ll be back any minute!”

But Olly just grinned. “Who said there was just one needle? I found his stash.”

Then before she could distract him any further, he jammed the needle into the center of her chest and depressed the stopper.

She let out a squeak as her eyes shot open wide in abject terror. At the same moment the door knob rattled. It sounded loud in her ears, and she laid there stunned as Olly leapt off her and raced over to hide behind the door.

She waited, heart-racing, expecting the black spots to cover her vision and for everything to fade away and go black.

Instead, the world around her felt like it was speeding up, getting too loud, too quick and too slow at the same time. She shot to a sitting position, her blood shrieking in her ears right as Nicholas pushed through the door.

“No!” she screamed, pointing behind the door just as Olly leapt out towards Nicholas with another syringe.

Nicholas’s face registered shock, but he spun and caught the man’s wrist just in time. Nicholas easily out-matched Olly strength for strength. If Olly had gotten the drop on Nicholas and had the element of surprise, he might have had a chance. But as a simple match of muscle against muscle, it was no contest.

Nicholas knocked the syringe out of Olly’s hand and Sloane, feeling keyed up beyond belief, scrambled forwards and grabbed it up before dashing back to the safety of the bed.

Olly spared her a brief look of astonishment and Nicholas took advantage of his momentary distraction. He took him to the ground and had Olly’s face in the carpet, pinning his hands behind his back. Olly screamed bloody murder and Nicholas wrapped an arm around his neck.