He sounds broken.
My heart twists. I don’t want him to give up. I’ve been pushing him away but deep down, inside the parts I won’t let out, the idea of him leaving rips me to shreds. I wish I could tell him, but no sound will come out of my mouth.
“You should leave now,” Marco says, and my head starts spinning.
He holds me tighter.
“No. Don’t leave yet. The fun has only just begun.”
A voice. I can hear it; I can’t see the person who owns it. I blink and try to focus past my blurred vision, but it’s too difficult. A dark shadow comes up behind Noah; I can’t make out his features. Is it even a person? Maybe it’s a tree. My head spins again. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Who the fuck are—”
Noah’s words are cut off and the sounds of grunting fill the silent night. Then his body hits the ground—his big, beautiful body just falls. I start struggling against Marco, confused and disoriented. My struggles are futile; I barely manage to get my body to move. The shadowy figure comes closer. I can’t make out his face, only his white, straight teeth.
“Ready to play, Lara?”
Something sharp stings in my neck.
Then my world goes black.
FIVE
Damp earth is pressed against my back.
That’s the first thing that alerts me to the fact that something is not right.
The second is the soft rain falling on my skin, drops gathering and then rolling off my cheeks. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are heavy, weighing me down and refusing to allow me movement. When I wiggle my fingers, soft mud squelches through them and panic seizes my chest. What the hell?
I struggle to remember what went on the night before. In fact, I have no memory of it at all. I struggle to think back to my last clear recollection—it was me texting Rachel earlier in the day to organize our usual Friday drinks. Everything after that is a blur. I focus on my eyes again, taking a deep breath and opening them. Cloudy sky greets my hazy vision, and I raise a hand to rub until that vision clears.
I’m in some sort of forest.
Did I go for a run and pass out?
I move my hands down to my clothes: jeans and a halter top, heels on my feet. No. Not a run. I focus back on the thick trees covering most of the sky, allowing only patches to peek through. They’re no match for the incessant drizzle, though. It manages to make its way through and hits my skin like a soft mist. I look to my left—nothing but trees for miles.
I look to my right, and freeze.
Noah is sitting against a tree, eyes closed, one eyelid swollen and red. His head is slightly drooped and he’s soaked. I take another steadying breath and push up to a sitting position. I’m covered in mud, and my head is pounding.
Where the hell are we? Why is Noah here? Worse, why is he hurt? I check myself over but find no wounds.
“Noah?” I croak, my voice dry and thick.
He doesn’t move.
Is he dead?
Fear crushes my chest, and I force my tired body to move closer to his until I can reach out for his face. My fingers gaze over the stubble on his cheeks, then move to his puffy, swollen eye. It’s grazed by light scratches. Did he fall over? My hand moves down to his shoulder and I shake him gently. “Noah.”
His hand lashes out so quickly I don’t have time to pull back. He gasps and his eyes fly open. He twists my arm and I scream, tumbling forward. A painful crunch in my shoulder alerts me to the fact that my arm didn’t move with me. Noah, as if realizing what he’s doing, suddenly lets me go. His chest rises and falls with heavy pants as he looks around.
“No,” he rasps. “Fucking no.”
“Noah,” I whimper, rubbing my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
His eyes dart backward and forward and then land on me rubbing my shoulder. “I hurt you.”
It’s not a question.
I shrug anyway.
“I didn’t realize it was you…”
I’m confused. “Who did you think it was?”
His jaw tenses. “How long have you been awake?”
“A few minutes. What’s going on?”
He starts fumbling with his clothes, arching his hips up and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Noah?”
He ignores me, coming up with a folded piece of paper. He clenches his eyes closed and mutters a curse before unfolding it.
“What’s going on?” I prompt again.
“I’m prayin’ it isn’t what I think, what I remember…”
He stares down at the letter, and his entire body goes solid. Something fills the air, and if I didn’t know better, I would say it’s fear. What could Noah be afraid of? He’s scared of nothing.
Something is very wrong.
“Please explain to me what the hell is going on,” I beg.
He looks up at me. “You don’t remember anything?”
I shake my head.
“Not a thing?”
“No, Noah,” I cry, frustrated. “No. Is this some sort of game to get me here so we can talk, because if it is, it isn’t funny.”
He glares at me. “You’re kidding?”
“Well, nothing else seems to make any sense. You’ve been hassling me to talk to you—”
He makes a growling sound in his chest. “Don’t insult me. This has nothing to do with us. Do you honestly not remember seeing me last night with your little fucking boyfriend?”
I flinch. “Pardon?”
He shakes his head, bitter smile on his face. “Drugs removed that, did they?”
What the hell is he talking about? “What drugs? What boyfriend? What are you talking about?”
“Playing coy used to be cute, Lara,” he snarls. “It isn’t anymore.”
“Will you just tell me what’s going on?”
His eyes meet and hold mine, and the look in them is scaring me. “We’ve been captured.”
I’m sorry. Did he just say captured?
I study him, eyes wide. “What?”
“I didn’t stutter,” he replies, thrusting the letter at me. “I remember bits and pieces. There was a note on my windshield this morning from you saying to meet you in that park. After what you did last time I saw you, I thought it was over. But then I got the note and thought you were finally ready to talk to me. I went in and you were there with another guy. Someone else came in and I think drugged us. Whatever drug he gave me wasn’t strong enough and I woke up a few times. Heard him mumbling about his game, and how close it was. He sounded like he was going to fuck himself with excitement before I passed out again. Then I woke up and we were out here. I freaked out, you were passed out … couldn’t wake you.”
“A note?” I say, confused.
“You didn’t put it there, did you?” he says, his voice tight.
“No,” I whisper. At least, I don’t remember putting a note on his windshield.
“So somebody wanted us to be in the same place at the same time,” he mumbles.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a note. “This is what I found in my pocket just now.”
With trembling hands, I take the note and unfold it, reading words that send a chill up my spine.