Page 20 of Knight

A desperate laugh bubbles up. “Knight wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t—” I shake my head. “He helped me. He understood about Michael. About everything.” I hate how weak I sound.

“Someone used my name to manipulate you.”

“Liar.” The word comes out as a sob.

I don’t believe him. The real Knight sent me cat memes, talked me through panic attacks when I couldn’t sleep, made me laugh, sent me takeout and chocolates.Thisman pointed a gun to my head, handcuffed me to a radiator, and watched me use the bathroom like I was something less than human.

He moves, and I flinch, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to fight as he stoops and lifts me. A whimper escapes my lips at the contact, at being so completely at his mercy.

What is he going to do with me?

I’m alone with him. Weak, helpless. Every horrible story about women who disappear, every true crime documentary I’ve ever watched, floods my mind.

Pain shoots through my shoulders as he swings me up into his arms. Each step jostles abused muscles, sending fresh sparks of agony through my arms.

“Please, no. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t?—”

He sets me down on something soft. A couch. Everything hurts. I try to curl away from him, but my body won’t cooperate. My muscles are shaking so badly I can barely sit upright.

“Please …”

He steps back. “You need something to eat. Something bland. Rice, maybe.”

Rice? Like this isnormal? Like he didn’t just spend god knows how long terrorizing me? Like I’m not trapped here with a man who stripped away every shred of dignity I had.

“Why are you doing this?” Tears blur my vision, fear and anger mixing together. “Where’s Knight?”

He moves away, speaking into his phone, but I can’t hear the words over the sound of my heart in my ears.

What happens when the food arrives? Is he really ordering food, or is he bringing other people here? What is he going to do to me?

CHAPTER NINE

Knight

She triesto sit up straighter while I’m ordering food, eyes darting around the room. I have no doubt she’s looking for escape routes. She’s spent over twenty-four hours with her hands cuffed behind her back, which has left her barely able to move, so I’m not concerned about having to chase her down. But every hitched breath betrays how much pain she’s in.

I order boiled rice and plain chicken. Nothing that requires too much effort to eat. The restaurant says it’s going to be forty-five minutes, which is longer than I want to wait, but other than energy drinks and coffee, my kitchen is empty.

She needs food, and I need her focused and coherent enough to answer questions, but I’m not leaving her here while I drive over to the restaurant for pick up.

The silence stretches, punctuated by her attempts to steady her breathing. To pretend she isn’t terrified, but her eyes keep looking at my hands. I’m sure she’s replaying me checking the handcuffs, holding the gun, and forcing her to drink over and over in her head.

“You need to understand something. He’s not real.” My voice makes her entire body tense. “The person you were messaging doesn’t exist.”

“Shut up.” The words come out jagged and raw.

“Someone spent weeks building your trust. Making you believe in a version of me that would help you find your brother.”

“I said shut up!” She tries to turn away, but her body won’t cooperate. Fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

“You need to understand?—”

“I understandexactlywhat you are.” Her voice is shaking, but there’s steel beneath. “You’re a monster, and you’ve done something to Knight.”

"Let me see your hands." I reach out, and wrap my fingers around her wrist just above the red marks left behind by the cuffs.

Predictably, she tries to pull away, but there’s nowhere for her to go. “Don’t touch me.”

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