Page 66 of No Control

“Oh, it’s a she.”

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” I grumble. “You know I don’t take on women.”

“Yeah, I know you’re picky.”

I don’t hear his next words as I read the message on the screen. Could not connect to cameras. My stomach clenches. I scroll to Jude’s phone number and hit the call button.

Straight to voicemail.

No, no, no. Lydia.

twenty-six

Lydia

I hear the footsteps before I make out the figure running toward me. I squint in the darkness, assuming it’s Jude—but the closer they get, it finally clicks. And within seconds, my body is in motion. I barely make it in my room before slamming the door.

There’s no lock.

I grip the knob and press my back against it, trying to settle my racing heart. A sardonic laugh erupts on the other side.

“You must be the toy,” a voice sneers.

My eyes squeeze shut as I fumble with the gun in the front of my shorts. Where’s Jude? Where’s Duke? I can’t imagine my dog sleeping through something like this. But then again, Mason broke into my house while I was sleeping, and I’m certain he never moved…

But he knew Mason.

My head spins as the knob twists. I do my best to hold it, my eyes blurring with tears. I can’t hold the door and the gun.

“I’m gonna get in there, sweetheart, whether you want me to or not.”

“I’m not alone here,” I shout through the door.

He bursts into laughter. “I don’t need long.”

A force blows from the other side, and the door cracks. It jars me backward, the gun knocked from my hand and sliding across the floor. The light from my computer screen illuminates a man with a black mask hovering above me. He tilts his head at me as I scoot backward, trying to put eyes on the gun.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? No wonder Henry keeps you to himself.” He hovers over me, and I now see just how large this guy is. He’s every bit as big as Henry, and potentially twice as wide. And it looks like there’s some sort of rope or rag in his hand? I can’t make it out very clearly, but every ounce of common sense tells me it might be how I die.

The scent of cigarette smoke hits my lungs as he lunges at me. I throw my weight to the right, nearly missing his grasp, but his hand collides with my ankle. He drags me toward him, and I brace as he comes at me with whatever the material is in his hand. It's not rope. I have that much figured out now.

It’s soaked in something as it brushes my nose. Just the scent makes my head light. I curl my fist and punch as hard as I can. My knuckles connect with the side of his mask, but it feels like I just struck metal. A cry escapes my lips, and he cackles down at me.

“Can’t hit me, baby,” he groans out as liquid drips from my knuckles and down my arm. My attacker comes down on me, his knees pinning my thighs as that fabric sinks toward my nose again. I turn my head and shut my eyes for a moment, just long enough to flick them back open and catch sight of the pistol. It’s within reach. I lunge my hand toward it, but he grabs me with an iron grip, dropping the fabric to the floor.

I scream out in pain, something sharp cutting through the skin on my wrist.

“You’ve got a lot of fight in you,” he grunts as my other hand comes in, ripping at the mask on his face. It feels like a cage, and I slip my hand under it, going for his eyes. He combats it by rearing his knee up and slamming back into my thigh.

Tears slip down my cheeks at the agonizing pain radiating from the hit. I can’t even scream at this point. I’m fighting a losing battle as he grabs both of my hands and pins them over my head. I wriggle, but it’s worthless.

“You can’t overpower me,” he spats, his words laced with hate. “And you might not get death today, but you’ll be wishing for it by the time I’m done with you.”

“Fuck you,” I snap at him, courage and anger boiling to the surface. He bursts into another breathy cackle, but in the lulls, I swear I hear something coming.

I lift my head and gaze toward the door, something drawing me to it. And suddenly, there’s a large golden blur careening toward us. My heart jumps out of my chest as I recognize Duke.

With a growl and snarl, he lunges at the man above me, startling him enough to free my hands. Duke is met with a heavy arm, and I watch in horror as he’s thrown across the room to the bed.

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