Page 108 of Taken Off Camera
Saint could already be dead.
The thought surfaces without warning, stealingwhat little breath I have left. The sound he made when Travis hurt him loops in my memory, a raw, animal noise choked off. What if Travis was lying about Saint waiting for me? What if he was dead before I ever set out on this foolhardy mission?
The truck slows, turns, and then stops. Panic spikes through me as the engine cuts off.
My legs twitch with the urge to fight, to kick at the locked lid, but the space is too tight for effective movement. I slam my boots once, the metal vibrating up my shins, and bite back a shout that turns into a muffled sob behind the gag.
A door opens and slams shut. Footsteps crunch on gravel, circling around to the back of the truck. Then the bed bounces, followed by boot thumps as someone walks toward the tool chest.
Metal hinges groan as the lid lifts, and cold air rushes inside.
Travis peers in at me, his ordinary face warped by possessiveness. “Well, look at you, all pretty. It’s like opening a doll box.” He kneels beside me and reaches in for me. “I’ll have to get you one for when I bring you home.”
My pulse races as he reaches for my face, and his fingers brush my cheek before tugging the gag down to my chin.
I spit, working moisture back into my cotton-dry mouth. “Where’s Saint?”
Travis settles beside me, arms folded on the rim of the tool chest. “Your watchdog is fine.”
“I want proof.”
“You’ll get it when we arrive, but for now, I need you to behave.” His fingers trail down my neck, stopping at Sebastian’s Mark. A deep frown creases his forehead. “This complicates things. But only until your next Heat. Pity, though, that I can’t Command you right away.”
My stomach lurches. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere special.” His whole face brightens with excitement. “I’ve been working on it for months.”
The truck cab door opens and closes. Travis’s accomplice must be getting impatient.
“How long have you been watching me?” I ask, trying to keep him talking, to gather any information that might help me escape.
“From the beginning.” Pride colors his voice. “Your third stream ever. You were wearing that blue thing with the lace trim. Remember? You seemed nervous and kept adjusting the camera.”
A chill spreads from my core outward as he describes details only a dedicated viewer would know.Not a random stalker then. A fan who crossed the line so gradually he never recognized the boundary.
“Why me?” I need to keep him talking to understand what I’m dealing with.
“You’re special, Elliot.” His hand returns to my face, stroking my cheek while I flinch away. “That’s why I chose you instead of some random Omega off the street.”
“What’s special about me?”
“Your eyes.” He leans closer, his breath hot across my face, smelling of mint gum and something rancid underneath. “They’re honest. When you perform, you mean it. The others fake everything.”
The truck door slams again in warning.
Travis sighs. “We need to go.”
Desperation floods through me. “Where are you taking me?”
“To meet someone.” Travis shifts, checking his watch. “Someone who can open doors for us. For you especially.”
“What kind of doors?” I rasp, throat still raw from the gag.
“The kind that leads to a better life. Structure. Purpose.” His expression turns dreamy. “You’ll be taken care of. Once they see your value, of course.”
Cold realization seeps into my bones. “You’re selling me.”
Travis frowns. “That’s such an ugly way to put it. I’m securing your future. And mine.”
