Page 54 of Psyop Kings

Panic claws at me as I wonder how in the hell they managed to get me here. Did they drive over the border? Did they put me on a private plane? How does a woman get taken from a bar in San Francisco and end up in Canada?

A low whine crawls up my throat.

I can’t just escape on foot and disappear. I’m in some reclusive area where there may not be people for miles and miles. The gravity of my situation is beginning to finally set in.

Frantically, I try to call my family again. No one answers. Tears of despair streak down my cheeks as I also try to call my therapist. Again, no answer.

I send Bastian several texts in a row.

Me: Help me!

Me: I’ve been kidnapped!

Me: I’m in Bella Coola in Canada in a giant lodge in the mountains. The Crownes took me!

I wait for him to respond.

Nothing.

My tears turn into full-bodied sobs until I’m hiccupping and can hardly breathe. I have a breakdown in this closet that smells like my main nemesis, Caius Crowne.

I’m not sure how long I cry for, but eventually the sobs turn into whimpers that turn into me staring at my phone in my hand. My body feels numb, and my eyes burn.

Once I’m composed, I try sending a text to Theo.

Me: I see you came through on getting me the phone.

His response is immediate.

Theo: I put in a good word. You owe me.

He follows his text with a winking emoji.

Me: Will you be at dinner? Caius is coming to get me later.

Theo: I’ll be there.

Relief floods through me. It’s absolutely ridiculous that I find comfort in knowing Theo will be at dinner with us. He was responsible for kidnapping me and I somehow feel safe knowing he’ll be joining us. I’m reminded of a romance book I read once where the girl fell in love with her captor. They called it Stockholm syndrome in the book.

I force in a few deep and steady breaths. I’m not in love with Theo or anyone. I am, though, going to use his attraction toward me as a way to keep me safe.

Since I have my phone, I do a deep dive on the Crownes to obtain as much information as possible. Unfortunately, there’s nothing juicy. It’s all surface-level and generic.

Once I’ve calmed down, I decide to go snooping before a much-needed shower. This is Caius’s home. There’s bound to be something useful to uncover.

Fear of getting caught immobilizes me. It takes a few deep breaths to give me the courage to go looking. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ve already been drugged and tossed in a cage under the floor. Does it get worse than that?

Searching for my anger, deep beneath the flood of fear, I latch my hooks into it, dragging it to the surface.

They’ve taken me, traumatized me, and are now trying to brainwash me. I may have mental issues, but I’m not weak or stupid. I refuse to be manipulated into being something I’m not.

I just have to not get lost in their lies.

I can’t forget who I am.

Lifting my chin, I exhale and then yank on a pair of sweats before exiting the closet. The house is quiet aside from the sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen. I can smellsomething savory that makes my stomach growl. Yesterday, through Theo, I learned Caius has private chefs who prepare all his meals, but they’re paid handsomely to “be seen and not heard.” The chefs aren’t going to help me out of this hellhole. I have to help myself.

It only takes a few minutes of exploring rooms I haven’t been in yet to discover Caius’s office. The space isn’t as large as I would have imagined. A single desk sits in front of an unlit fireplace and faces the window that overlooks an idyllic wintery forest scene. I guess even monsters can appreciate a lovely view.

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