Page 19 of Psyop Kings

Theo drugged me.

Hot tears burn my eyes as I truly consider the hellish situation I’m in. Theo Crowne set me up. There was no lead. It was all a ruse to get me into this wooden hole in the floor.

Why?

Because I was asking too many questions about Megan?

I swipe at the tear that races down my cheek. I’d known she was taken. Absolutely not crazy but on to the truth about her. And, because of it, I walked straight into the arms of her abductor.

Why would the Crowne family take Megan? Why would they take me? What happens now? Did Megan spend time in this box too?

The utter loneliness and despair threaten to send me into a panic attack. I haven’t felt this powerless since…well, childhood. But, unlike then, I know for a fact this is real. This isn’t some girlish nightmare on repeat that therapy and drugs can chase away.

This is happening.

I’ve been kidnapped.

I take several measured breaths, trying not to freak out about the lack of air. There seems to be a rug covering the space I’m trapped in. I’m not completely sealed off, so I shouldn’t die. Obsessing over my air situation won’t help more pressing matters.

I have to get out of here.

Rolling onto my stomach, I attempt to get my knees and elbows beneath me. The box can’t be any deeper than two feet, so it’s not an easy feat. Once I’ve braced myself, I use my back to push at the top of the box. Of course it goes nowhere. The lock keeping me here and the hinges to the door are solid. It was worth a try, though.

Temporarily defeated, I roll onto my back again. My shirt is completely soaked through with sweat. If I had enough room, I’d rip off my hoodie as well. I’m thirsty and am about to crawl out of my own skin. At some point, they have to let me out of here. I seriously doubt the Crownes kidnapped me just to let me rot under the floors.

My mind derails to an Edgar Allen Poe poem I read last year in high school. I softly recite parts of the poem that I memorized, but it does nothing to calm me. If anything, it spooks me even more as I wonder if there are others around me in their own boxes. Despite the warmth, I shiver uncontrollably.

Shock.

I’m going into shock.

No.

I use some of Maura’s tried-and-true techniques to calm my racing mind. First, I count to a hundred. Then I recall a place that makes me happy. For some reason, I think of pumpkin pie frappes, a cute barista, and Megan’s shy smile.

Yes, focus on her.

You’re here because of her.

No one will come looking for Megan, but that’s not true for me. I have a family who can barely leave me alone to live my own life across the country. Dad has requirements for me, like visiting them at Christmas. Bastian will freak the hell out if I don’t text him regularly. Eva will wonder why I don’t respond to her endless makeup tutorial reels she sends me. And Sarai, if I don’t respond about my travel plans, will relentlessly hound me.

If I’m unable to answer, Dad will use every resource at his will to get ahold of me.

For once, I’m deeply grateful for a controlling, overbearing, influential, and wealthy father.

Once my heart rate begins to slow down, I attempt to learn my surroundings. This box is about as wide as it is deep. I scoot down and within inches, my tennis shoes touch the other end of the box. Definitely has coffin vibes going on. It’s a trapdoor in the floor, locked, and covered by a rug. And the person on the other end has a gun.

Who was the person?

Though I didn’t see them, I can deduce who it could be. He’d said, “Oh, little brother, what have you done this time?”

That means it had to be Caius or Gareth Crowne.

I know nothing about these men, nor have I spoken to them before, but I have a hunch it was Caius. The voice was cold andutterly devoid of emotion. From what I’d seen on his face last night, he fits the bill.

His words are a clue, though.

He’d asked Theo, who I’m pretty sure wasn’t even in the room, what he’d done when kidnapping me. Even though he didn’t give any tells in his tone, I could sense his displeasure and annoyance at the situation.

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