“Listen, Max.” I intentionally used his name, and he flinched as though I’d struck him. “I can’t give you what you want. I don’t know who told you those outrageous lies about my father, but they’re not true. Just let me go home, and I won’t tell anyone about this.” He scoffed, but I continued on. “I’m serious. You haven’t hurt me, but I can tell that you have been hurt. You think you’re somehow defending your family by doing this, but I’ll defend my family, too. You have nothing to gain by keeping me here, and the longer you do, the greater the chance that my father will launch a manhunt to locate me.”
He was silent for several long seconds, his head cocked to the side as he considered me. “You really don’t know anything, do you?” he finally said, his voice heavy with some emotion I couldn’t quite identify. Regret? Despair?
“There’s nothing to know,” I replied evenly. “My father has nothing to do with the Bratva. I am sorry for whatever you’ve been through.” I meant every word. Max had terrorized me, but he’d clearly suffered through some terrible things if he’d been pushed to this mad scheme.
“Don’t pity me,” he barked. “You’re the one tied to a chair in my basement.”
As though I needed reminding.
“I won’t tell anyone about this,” I promised again, my voice clear and calm. I did pity him. It gave me no pleasure, but I felt sorry for this broken, scarred man. He was so desperate to defend his family that he believed my father was a villain. In his mind, it was the only way to vindicate and protect them.
“No, you won’t,” he agreed, his promise darker than my own. He stepped into the light, dropping to one knee as his powerful arms bracketed me once again. His big hands fisted around the metal chair at either side of me, knuckles white with strain. The overhead light cast craggy shadows beneath the scarred flesh around his eye. This time, I barely flinched when he snarled in my face. He couldn’t help that he’d been permanently scarred by some horrific injury. The mark of his pain wasn’t a threat to me.
“I won’t hurt you, but I have no problem hurting your father,” he seethed. “If you tell anyone about this, he will pay the price.” His eyes glinted with an almost fanatical light, and the fine lines around his mouth drew deep with strain. Max hated my father, and I fully believed that he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on his malicious promise.
Even once he let me go, Max’s rage wouldn’t ease. This threat to my father wouldn’t disappear unless someone addressed Max’s pain and misguided beliefs.
Let me help you. The entreaty teased at the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back.
Manic energy pulsed from his huge frame, a dangerous vibration over my flesh. He’d risked everything to capture me, and he’d gotten nothing for his efforts. He was far too volatile at this moment for me to show any more softness or pity. He was on the verge of releasing me, and I didn’t dare breathe a word that might make him change his mind.
“I won’t say anything to anyone,” I swore, willing him to believe me. “I won’t put my family at risk.” Daddy was the only family I had left. Max seemed to understand loyalty—it was what had driven him to kidnap me.
He huffed out a breath, and the tension eased from his harsh features. For the first time, I got a good look at his face. If it weren’t for the horrific scar, Max would’ve been devastatingly handsome with those high cheekbones, sensual mouth, and a jawline sharp enough to cut. I could only imagine the verbal torment he must’ve endured for his appearance.
His dark eyes dropped from mine, and long, thick lashes fanned his left cheek. Whatever had scarred him—fire?—didn’t seem to have injured the right eye itself, but it’d scored the flesh on his brow and cheekbone. The puckered skin was obscured by the thick black curls he allowed to grow in an unruly mass to conceal the worst of the damage.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, a low warning. One hand slipped into his pocket, and my stomach dropped when he uncapped the syringe.
“What are you doing?” I jerked and twisted, but the silky restraints held firm. I barely felt the sting of the needle sliding into my arm, but horror mingled with the warmth of the drugs as they oozed into my system. My body began to relax, and my eyelids became lead weights.
My heart slammed into my ribcage in a renewed burst of terror. The loss of control was horrifying, and while my mind still whirred, I registered how completely vulnerable the drugs made me.
“Please…” I whispered, even though it was too late to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.
He shushed me gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m taking you home.”
The basement dissolved around me, his reassurances following me down into darkness.
Chapter 2
Allie
My head pounded, and my eyelids itched like sandpaper. I groaned and rolled over. The mattress disappeared beneath me, and I jolted awake when my butt hit the floor. For a second, I flailed, my bedroom swimming around me.
No. Not my bedroom. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to alleviate the worst of the ache that throbbed against my skull with each of my rapid heartbeats.
I was sprawled on the floral rug in my living room. I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch, cuddled up beneath my favorite fuzzy pink blanket. But I didn’t remember…
I gasped, and everything came into sharp focus as I went on high alert. Frantically, my eyes searched the room, fearful that my captor still lurked in the shadows.
But there weren’t any shadows. Bright sunlight streamed through the large bay window, flooding the room with natural light. I wasn’t in that awful basement. I wasn’t bound to a chair while a monster interrogated me.
The terrible, beastly mask filled my mind, and I clutched a hand over my racing heart as I struggled to draw in oxygen.
My eyes swept the room a second time. And a third.
The monster was nowhere in sight. For a moment, I doubted that the horrific experience had even been real. It felt impossible now that I was back in my cheery townhouse, surrounded by the safety of my own home and bathed in warm sunshine.
But I recognized my pounding headache and scratchy eyelids all too well. These were the exact symptoms that’d assailed me when I’d first awoken in that basement and found myself trapped in a nightmare.
My fingers rubbed my wrists, checking for restraints that weren’t there. Not even the faintest bruise marked my skin where he’d bound me to that rigid metal chair.
I sucked in a deep breath, remembering the softness of the bindings.
I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be afraid. Even though he’d terrorized me, Max had gone out of his way to make sure I was unharmed by the experience. He’d wanted to scare me into talking, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt me.
I recalled the cool sensation of the water he’d offered me, soothing my parched throat and alleviating the worst of my headache. Suddenly, I was desperately thirsty.
I struggled to my feet, swaying slightly at the lingering dizziness from the drugs.
Yes, the nightmare had definitely been real, and I was still feeling the lingering effects.
I stumbled toward my kitchen, quickly grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with chilled water from my fridge. I moaned when the cool liquid slid over my tongue and down my scratchy throat.