Page 143 of Play Pretend

Reaching into my purse, I fumbled with it. I was careful to not look at the screen or open it too much for the light to show. Braydon’s eyes were wild in the rearview mirror as we pulledonto the highway. Instead of turning toward Cedar Ridge, he went the opposite direction toward Blackrock Bay.

My thumb slid along the cool screen. I knew where my apps were, and I knew Ronan was the last person I’d texted. I fumbled with it, hoping I was tapping the right parts of the screen, hoping that I was pressing the right buttons.

And then I heard the faint ringing, and I cleared my throat to cover the sound. Was he going to answer? Was he still fighting with my family? What if he didn’t hear his phone?

But then?—

“Hey, where are you?”

He answered.

“Baby?”

Tears filled my eyes as I turned the volume down as far as it would go. Ronan’s voice disappeared, but I knew he was still on the line.

“Braydon, where are you taking me?” I kept my voice raised, hopefully loud enough for Ronan to hear through the purse. “Why are we going to Blackrock Bay?”

“I said shut up!” Braydon shouted, banging his hand on the steering wheel. I jolted at the sound, and I scooted further back in the seat. “Fuck! Fuck!”

We were closer to Blackrock Bay than we were Cedar Ridge, so the drive was only about ten minutes. I tried to keep the conversation going, but every time I opened my mouth, he yelled at me to stop talking. So, I finally did.

Ronan hopefully knew what was happening and was coming for me. But when we pulled into a rundown apartment complex, my heart rate skyrocketed.

It might not matter if Ronan was coming for me. It might be too late by the time he got here.

Braydon shifted the car into park and twisted to glare at me. He lifted the gun and pointed it at my face. “If you scream, I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I breathed, nodding.

He slipped from the car before opening the back door. I kept my hand away from my purse, hoping he wouldn’t think anything of it. When I got to my feet, the gun returned to my side. My knees wobbled with every step we took toward the bottom floor apartment, right in front.

“I always hated living on the bottom floor,” I said shakily, hoping Ronan could hear me.

Braydon’s fingers tightened on my arm until I was sure I’d have bruises. He roughly shook me, and my head snapped forward. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed.

We got to his door, and he quickly unlocked it before shoving me inside. The air was thick and musky, filled with the scent of trash and mildew. I stepped into the darkness, my foot hitting something on the floor.

The click of the door shutting was deafening, and for a moment, we sat in the darkness, in the silence, and then I felt Braydon’s breath ghost along the back of my hair.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

His fingers brushed down my side before he pulled away. The dull light was blinding as he flicked it on. As my eyes adjusted, fear took root.

All over the walls were photos of…me. Photos of me at work, at the lighthouse, through my window, sleeping. I moved toward it, my teeth chattering.

He was only a foot from my face—he’d been inside my house. He’d been close to me while I was sleeping, just feet away. Inches away.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, my trembling fingers lifting to my lips. “Oh my god.”

I scanned the others, bile burning my throat as I stared at Ronan laying on top of me, kissing me at the beach. The one next to it was us in the truck, my hand between my legs, and Ronan’s head thrown back in pleasure.

“That’s my favorite one,” Braydon murmured. “You look so pretty.” He tapped his finger against a photo of me at the lighthouse the day I’d found Sailor. The wind whipped my hair from my face as I peered out at the ocean, apparently in deep thought.

My wide eyes flitted around the room, trying to find an escape. Every surface was covered in stuff, every corner cluttered. The brown carpet was stained, and there were yellow water marks on the popcorn ceiling.

I couldn’t breathe.

I was going to die.

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