Page 18 of Unhinged

I open one eye, groggy. My head hurts and feels too big for my body.

I wake up slowly. The first thing I register is the cold bite of metal on my wrists. Tight.

The second is a smell that’s all too familiar—one that’s been in my apartment.

Leather. Whiskey. Pine.

My heart beats too fast as memory rushes back.Him.

I wasn’t imagining things. I wasn’t hallucinating. Lovely. My life’s become one long episode of a freaky reality TV psycho-thriller.

I did have a stalker—one who had me terrified and running for my life. My eyes snap open.

Where am I? It’s dark, and I’m… in a cage.A cage.

Oh my fucking god.

The space is dimly lit, one flickering ivory bulb barely cutting through the shadows, the walls bare. If there are windows, they’re sealed tight and covered.

It feels like the ground beneath me is swaying. Am I…moving?

Where the hell am I?

Am I in a truck? A ship?

I don’t know.

But I do know one thing?—

This isn’t some damp basement. No duct tape around my wrists.I’m in a fucking cage.

I’m lying on a sleeping mat, with sheets beneath me and a heavy blanket over me, but it doesn’t change where I am?—

A prison.

The very thing I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to escape. Bile rises in the back of my throat along with my fury, but I have to stay focused.

Calm.

My body aches.

The back of my head throbs.

I close my eyes, trying to remember what happened.

My head hit a concrete wall. My wrists are sore, trapped in heavy-duty cuffs. I’m no stranger to kink—I’ve played around with handcuffs in my past—but these? These are the real deal. When I tug experimentally, they don’t budge.

I open my mouth, licking dry lips.

At least I’m not gagged.

And then I hear it?—

That same heavy, deep breathing that woke me in my apartment.

My voice is hoarse. “Who’s there? Why did I hear you in my apartment? Why are you doing this to me?” I don’t sound as angry as I feel. I could spit venom right now.

There’s a shift in the shadows. My breathing stills.

---