Layla

“I mean, I am. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“You can’t take the fall for this. Tell her you tried to leave, but I wouldn’t let you. Make her think you’re a victim in this too. She needs to feel like someone is on her side.”

“You want me to tell her about you?”

Willow nods. “Maybe not everything. You can give her just enough information to let her know this isn’t your fault and that there’s something bigger at play. Maybe that will calm her down toward you. I don’t really care how she feels toward me, or this house. I just don’t want her to blame you.”

It might work. I can convince her it’s out of our control, that there’s some other force keeping us here. It won’t calm her down by any means, because the idea of that will be hard to wrap her mind around, but in the end, she might not blame me. That’s all I can hope for as a result. Not to end up spending the rest of this life in prison.

“We need to find rope.”CHAPTER TWENTY

I open my camera app, set my phone on the dresser, and point it at Willow. She’s sitting calmly on the bed, her legs crossed, her back against the headboard. Her hands are tied to the bedpost near her head.

I hit record, and then I go sit on the bed next to her.

I squeeze her hand reassuringly because she looks nervous. Then I look into the camera of my phone. “Layla, I know this is confusing. I know it’s scary. But I need you to listen to me.” I blow out a breath. “There’s someone in this house. Someone we can’t see. It’s bigger than me and you. She’s stronger than me and you. And until I help her, we can’t leave.”

I look at Willow. “What’s your name?”

“Willow,” she says.

“Are you a danger to Layla?”

“No.”

“Am I a danger to Layla?”

Willow shakes her head. “No.”

“Am I holding Layla against her will?”

“No,” she says. “But I am. Just for another day.” Willow looks at the camera. “Then it’ll be over, Layla. Please don’t be upset with Leeds for this. It’s out of his control.”

“What will happen if Layla tries to escape?” I ask her.

She’s still looking at the camera when she says, “You can’t escape, Layla. It’s better to just wait this out as calmly as you can.”

With that, I walk over to my phone and stop the recording.

“She’s going to be scared when she sees that,” Willow says.

“She’s already scared.” I turn out the light, but the room isn’t pitch black because the sun is probably about to rise. We’ve been up all night. I close the bedroom curtain. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll deal with her when she wakes up.”

Willow nods and then leans her head against her arms, which are dangling from the rope. “I’ll try,” she whispers.She fell asleep about half an hour ago. I moved the security camera from the Grand Room into our bedroom. That way I can keep an eye on Layla if I need to go downstairs.

I’ve been sitting in a chair next to the bed since Willow fell asleep, but it’s been a challenge just keeping my eyes open. I want to be by Layla’s side when she wakes up. She’s going to be scared. Terrified.

My eyelids are falling shut when my phone pings with a notification. I jerk in the chair and look over at Layla. It didn’t wake her.

I have a new notification from the forum. I frantically move my fingers over the screen to unlock my phone, and then I click on the notification and read his message.

I’m on my way.

That’s all his message says. He didn’t even ask questions. I’m relieved, but I also have no idea what to expect. Who to expect. When to expect him.

I close my eyes and press my phone against my forehead, releasing a rush of air from what seem like concrete lungs. I feel the weight of all that’s happened since I came into her life. Every ounce of it, as if every bad decision I’ve made were compressed into the shape of a cinder block, and that cinder block is pressing down on my chest.

Layla gasps before she screams.

The weight on my chest doubles when I see the panic set in.

Her eyes are flittering around the room wildly. Then she screams again when she sees she’s tied to the bed. She rubs her wrists together in an attempt to slide out of the rope, but the rope doesn’t budge.

I press a calming hand to the side of her head to try and get her to look at me, but she’s in fight-or-flight mode now. She’s digging her heels into the mattress, trying to get away from me, but she has nowhere to go.