Page 98 of The Tangle of Awful

His chuckle is dark and manic. “Oh, I want people to know. I want them to know what I’m capable of. That I’ll destroy you in whatever means possible unless they give me what I need.”

“You want money? Hugo is loaded. They all are. Name your price. They’ll pay it,” I rush out. “Just let me go.”

He ignores me and proceeds to carry me into a bedroom of the small house. I’m tossed onto the mattress, but before I can escape, the man pounces, shoving a knee against my chest. I can’t breathe with the pressure he’s putting on me and everything turns black.

My eyes flutter back open what must only be seconds later to discover my wrist is zip tied to one corner of the bed. He has my other wrist and is forcefully also zip-tying it, this time to the other corner.

I’m trapped.

Completely at the mercy of a monster.

My hair has come loose from the hair tie and sticks to my sweaty face. From beneath the curtain, I can see him as he walks over to the end of the bed. Testing my restraints, I try to pull my hands to me only to be met with searing pain biting into the flesh of my wrists.

“Let me go,” I screech. “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Stop being a fucking brat or I’ll gag you.”

More tears well and flood out. I bite down on my bottom lip, finally taking in the man before me. He’s tall and muscular—the kind of guy who spends more time at the gym than anywhere else. His skin is a sun-kissed golden hue and his blond hair that’s longish and curling over his ears shimmers in the light.

My monster looks like an angel.

He’s older than me and Spencer, but definitely younger than Hugo by at least a decade. The man’s green eyes are nearly glowing with some evil emotion I’m completely terrified of.

“You thought you could ignore me?”

I scowl at him, again yanking on the restraints even though it’s pointless. “I don’t know who the hell you are!”

It’s true. I don’t know him and I hate how it seems like he knows me. My blood turns cold. Is it someone from LA? Someone I slept with and ghosted on?

“This is all your fault, you know,” the man says, ignoring my outburst. “Everything was fine. We were going to be together.”

“Who?”

He narrows his eyes at me and purses his Cupid lips. “Me and your mother. Keep up, bitch.”

I recoil at his nasty words. “You slept with my mother?”

“I did more than sleep with her,” he growls. “I fucking loved her!”

My eyes dart to the bedroom door as though I can make Spencer and Hugo materialize out of sheer will alone. No one appears.

“Mom’s married,” I say weakly.

His lip curls up and he sneers at me. “Because the sanctity of marriage matters so much to you? You’re a manipulator and I liar, Aubrey. I’ve been observing you for a long-ass time.”

A chill races down my spine. This stalker/kidnapper/psycho/serial killer has been “observing” me.

“You’re not making any sense.” My voice wobbles. “I just want to go home.”

He grabs my sore ankle and squeezes it, making me yelp in pain. Then, he produces another zip tie from his pocket. I’m too hurt to fight him, easily giving him access to tie my other ankle to another bedpost corner.

“You may as well get comfortable. You’re not going home anytime soon. Hell, you may not go home ever.”

Despair coils in my gut.

The reality of my situation hits me harder than the gun to my skull did.

I’m not getting out of here.

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