Page 9 of Pastel Kisses

She barely flinches.

I grit my teeth, shaking with rage as I hiss, “You better pray I never get my hands on you.”

Her expression darkens. “Now, now,” she tuts, slipping a hand into her pocket. “If you can’t behave, I’ll have to take drastic measures.”

She pulls out a syringe, the liquid inside catching the dim light.

I freeze, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.

“Be a good girl,” she coos, “or I’ll make you one.”

Fuck. That.

I thrash, trying again to lunge, but I’m too slow, too weak. She steps forward, feints to the left, and then—

Pain.

A sharp, blinding explosion of agony cracks across my skull.

My body crumples instantly, my vision flashing white as I hit the floor hard. A metallic taste floods my mouth, and a warm trickle runs down the side of my face. My fingers brush my temple, coming away slick with blood.

A ragged breath leaves me, my body curling inward instinctively.

A shadow looms above me.

Sarah crouches down, clicking her tongue as she twirls the black metal rod in her fingers—the weapon she used to drop me.

“I warned you,” she muses, amusement lacing her tone. “Now look what you made me do.”

I try to lift my arm, to push up, to fight, but my limbs won’t cooperate. My body is sluggish, weighted, sinking deeper into the cold, hard floor.

A sudden, sharp prick in my arm steals the last of my strength.

I gasp weakly, my head lolling to the side as warmth spreads through my veins, replacing the pain with something thick and heavy. My eyelids droop, my breaths slowing.

Sarah leans in close, her breath tickling my ear as she whispers, “Night-night.”

~~~~~

My eyes snap open, awareness slamming into me like a freight train. No sluggish, hazy awakening this time—just a jolt of sharp clarity, adrenaline spiking through the haze.

The room is suffocatingly dark. Not the kind of darkness that allows your eyes to adjust, but an all-consuming black void, thick and impenetrable. There are no windows, no slivers of moonlight sneaking through cracks, nothing to help me get my bearings. My breathing stutters, chest tightens with the overwhelming absence of sight.

The pounding in my skull throbs in sync with my erratic heartbeat, sending dull waves of pain rippling through my head. A bandage wraps around my forehead, the fabric coarse and foreign against my skin. My fingers twitch as I reach up to probe the mound of swollen flesh beneath it, wincing at the soreness.

I bite down on my lower lip, a quiet moan escaping despite my best efforts to stay silent. I have no way of knowing how much time has passed. Sarah claimed I’d been out for days, but how many? Who knows what’s happening outside this hellhole while I rot in the dark.

With a deep breath, I yank hard on the chain at my ankle, the sharp clink echoing through the stillness. There’s no give, no miraculous escape. I sag against the cold wall, momentarily letting the weight of my situation settle over me like a heavy, unwelcome blanket.

I can’t stay here. I won’t stay here.

A fresh wave of panic crashes into me as my mind drifts to the people I left behind. They must be freaking out.

The guys…

My heart clenches at the thought of them—Liam, Jaxton, Kamden, Lennox. Their worry must be unbearable. They’ve spent years in the public eye, dealing with crazed fans and dangerous stalkers, but this? This is personal. This isn’t some overzealous fan crossing a boundary—this is calculated, malicious, and it’s aimed directly at me to get to them.

I imagine them tearing through the town, searching every alley, kicking down doors, demanding answers from anyone who might have seen something. Liam would be the most volatile, barely containing his rage as he tries to think logically but fails spectacularly. Jaxton would be the one keeping him in check, his mind constantly racing through possibilities, hunting for any clue that might lead them to me. Kamden would be quiet, controlled fury simmering beneath his skin, organizing a plan to methodically track me down.

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