Without Remorse

She wanted to believe she’d just slipped from one nightmare into another. That her unconscious mind was playing a horrible trick on her.

But she remembered—dimly but still the memory was there:

A stranger in her house. A man. Oliver who was also Saint. He’d stalked her, found out where she’d lived. And then Nicholas showing up, she’d thought to save her.

Her hand flew to her neck.

Why had he—?

But then her eyes went back out the front windshield.

Oh God, it wasn’t a dream.

She was outside.

She was in a car.

She was hurtling down the highway in a death-trap.

She screamed again and tried to curl over into a ball but the seatbelt across her chest caught her in the neck and choked her when she tried.

Not that it mattered much. She wasn’t able to get much air in when she next gulped for breath. Oh God, her throat was closing up. She gasped for air but none came.

Tears squeezed out of her eyes.

She knew this would happen. She knew if she ever left the house she’d die.

She turned to Nicholas even as her hands went to her throat. “How could you?” she tried to ask, but she couldn’t even wheeze the words out.

She was going to die. Right here, right now.

She hiccupped for breath but none came. Blood rushed in her ears and she rocked back and forth in her seat as spots danced in front of her eyes.

Nicholas was saying something. She heard his voice muted like through water. Her chest felt as if it was caving in for lack of oxygen and she clawed at her throat.

She panted as sweat poured down her forehead and into her eyes. Her entire chest spasmed. Oh God, this was it. She was going to die.

She didn’t even realize the car had come to a stop until Nicholas shoved his door open. Then, moments later, hers was being yanked open, too. Nicholas reached across her and undid the seatbelt strapping her in but it was too late.

The panic attack had reached its peak and there was no stopping it once it got to these levels, Sloane knew from excruciating past experience.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Nicholas said, and his words broke through the panicked hazed just enough to register.

She barked out a wheezing, unladylike laugh. But immediately felt like taking it back. She didn’t know who this guy was, but he obviously wasn’t some harmless bystander. He’d kidnapped her. The thought was ridiculous even as she thought it. Who would kidnap her?

Everything made such little sense she was tempted to think she was still in a dream, making a villain out of her one friend in the world.

She focused on his face, his jaw, his dark eyes, trying to find something out of sync with her memory of brief acquaintance with Nicholas. But the man in front of her was a clone of the man she’d been getting to know over the past few weeks. All the way down to the mole on his neck below his left ear. Would her dream-self have reproduced that kind of detail?

Wake up, she demanded, as the black spots dancing in her vision grew larger.

The cold wind from the night hit her skin from the open door. How long since she’d felt the wind? She didn’t even dare open the windows at home, she just relied on the AC and heater to regulate her temperature. Inviting the outside in, even in the smallest way, would set her heart to racing.

And now here she was, fully exposed.

She opened her mouth to scream again but couldn’t make a sound, her throat was so closed up.

And then Nicholas man-handled her, flipping her and pulling her back against his chest. She barely had one second to understand what was happening before his arm curved around her neck—further choking off her oxygen supply.

The black spots coalesced into a sheet of black.

He’s killed me, was her last thought before she slumped limp into his arms.

When she blinked heavy, sand-blasted eyes open, her first thought was, holy shit, I’m not dead.

Followed by, where the hell am I?

She sat up. She was on a bed. But not her bed.

Her hand went to her pounding head as she looked around the small room. And her eyes zeroed in on Nicholas sitting at a small table in what looked for all the world like a hotel room.

Sloane scurried off the bed and backed up against the wall furthest away from him. Her movement drew his eyes. He set down the box of noodles and chopsticks he was eating with, but not before gesturing to another box on the table. “You hungry?”

Sloane scoffed in disbelief. “Who are you? W-why did you… You kidnapped me!”

Nicholas stood up like he meant to come towards her but Sloane held up a hand and he paused. He actually stopped, much to Sloane’s shock.