William took a step closer to us. Nicholas’s grip on my hair loosened just a little bit, but it was enough to feel a semblance of relief. "A friend, huh? Civellas don’t have friends. We have enemies and business partners. I should blow her fucking brains out just to teach you a lesson."
"I didn’t tell her anything about our family," Vicky promised. "Ask William, he’s been with me every time we meet up."
"Every time, huh?" Nicholas asked before moving the barrel of the gun to my bottom lip. He pressed it hard and stared at my face. "Tell me, William. Why have you been keeping this hot little secret from me?" My mouth was so dry that my tongue involuntarily darted out to lick my lips, but instead I brushed it along the metal of the gun. It tasted like copper and smoke. Nicholas stared at my mouth, and I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down.
"Vicky needed a friend after Mom died," William explained calmly. "You remember how bad it was."
"That was three goddamn years ago. She got a prescription for Prozac and was fine."
"She wasn’t fine, Nicholas. You know that. When they became friends, I noticed that Vicky was doing better. I started tagging along to make sure Vick didn’t say something she shouldn’t. It was harmless."
"If it was harmless, then you wouldn’t be keeping it a secret from me. You know we have a rat. I just didn’t realize you were feeding it cheese right under my nose."
"She’s not the rat!" Vicky yelled.
"And you’re not trustworthy!" he yelled back.
"Fuck you. It’s not like you usually pay attention to what I do, Nicholas," Vicky replied. "Apparently, you only care what I’m up to when it affects your profits."
"You’re supposed to be on a plane to Italy in four hours. Forgive me for making sure you did what you’re supposed to. You have this nasty, selfish habit of doing whatever the fuck you want, consequences be damned."
"Italy?" I asked before immediately slamming my lips together. I didn’t mean to speak. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get out of this. My friendship with Vicky was supposed to be this carefree thing, an escape from both of our lives.
Nicholas looked at me, anger written across his expression. "Do you know Cora, little waitress?" he asked, his voice dark and threatening.
I shook my head. "I don’t know anyone by that name."
"Liar!" he boldly exclaimed before pulling my hair harder. "You thought you could just sneak right in and tell all my secrets? Cora is going to learn not to fuck with me."
Tears started streaming down my face. "I don’t know Cora. I don’t know what you’re talking about," I cried out.
"Hale!" Nicholas called before spinning me to face him. Both his hands wrapped around my arms, and he squeezed tight. Up close, I could breathe his whiskey breath. Hear each exhale. The stubble on his sharp chin was so close I could run my tongue along his jaw. It was like staring at the sun for too long. I couldn’t blink, could barely breathe. I was both in awe and completely terrified all at once. We stared at one another as a large man approached. I gasped when Nicholas pressed his body against mine. Hard planes of muscle collided with every soft curve of my flesh. Goose bumps broke out on my skin.
"Yes, boss?"
"Take her to the dead basement. Call Anthony and tell him I’ll have a new body for him soon. This diner looks like a family establishment, and I don’t want to stain their parking lot with blood. I’m nice like that, aren’t I, Vick?"
"No," my best friend cried out. A stunned scream traveled up my throat but was stunted by the force of a gun slamming into my right temple. I blinked twice, I cried out, and I collapsed into the arms of Satan himself.
3
Dried blood stuck to my chilled skin. It was so cold that my teeth chattered, a stark difference to the heat outside. The air-conditioning overhead was on full blast, sending an icy breeze over my exposed flesh. My shirt was gone, but luckily I still had on my miniskirt, a bra, and underwear. Tight ropes that bound my wrists together behind my back were rough, rubbing my skin raw. I was on the hard concrete floor but couldn’t see much of anything. Everything about this room felt designed to humiliate me and draw out some sort of psychological torture. Heavy chains weighed me down and kept me tethered to the floor. I didn’t know how long I’d been here. My bladder felt impossibly full, and pretty soon I’d have to piss myself.
My approach to trauma was clinical in nature. I didn’t scream when I woke up bound and alone. I didn’t cry. I didn’t hyperventilate. I analyzed the situation in such a detached way that my dormant terror clawed at my soul, aching to get out. Perhaps it was a lifetime of seeing the world through the eyes of a pessimist. Maybe I’d expected this to one day happen to me. Since my mother’s disappearance, I’d been preparing for the evil of the world to snatch me, too.
My mind raced over trivial things to cope. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my lunch shift. Had I already missed it? As more time passed, I worried about Vicky. I worried about my Grams. I worried that I wouldn’t make it out of this goddamn place alive.
She’d never know what happened to me. She’d never know if I was alive or dead. She’d never know if I was safe. If I’d run away. It would be like my mother’s disappearance all over again.
The room smelled like rust. It had a chilling energy, like death was around every corner. Though my mind was fuzzy from the hard hit my skull took back in the parking lot of Dick’s Diner, I still pieced together that I was in a basement somewhere.
I’d spent most of my life reading cold cases and researching true crime, but being in the middle of it wasn’t some hobby. It wasn’t like my carefully cultivated podcast. It was terrifying.
The metal door opened, bathing me in bright fluorescent light. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. My head was throbbing from the hit. My lips were cracked.
In an ominous tone, a deep voice cursed. I heard movement and blinked half a dozen times to clear my vision so that I could see who was approaching.
As the man crouched in front of me, heat rose off of his body and caressed my skin. I felt a shiver travel down my spine, and I saw my stranger. It took me a moment to remember his name. What had they called him?
"William?" my voice cracked. "Please let me out of here."
He reached out and stroked my cheek with his soft fingers. I flinched away from his touch. It was so odd to feel so familiar yet distant from him. The touch was far too intimate for what we were, and despite the comfort it briefly gave me, it also doused me in fear. For so long, my stranger was a fly on the wall. An obligation we had to meet. A price to pay for my friendship with Vicky. I teased him. I normalized him. But now, he was the enemy.
"I never wanted this to happen," he whispered in a soft voice. "I wanted to keep you as far away from Nicholas as possible."
I licked my dry lips and shuffled as far away from him as I could. But my stranger didn't let up. He leaned closer. Closer. "What are they gonna do to me?" I asked.
He cleared his throat and brought his forehead close to mine. Every time he blinked, the flutter of his eyelashes brushed my skin. What was he doing? "Do you want the truth?"