Page 56 of Stalk Me

My wrists are secured in front of me with zip ties, the plastic biting into my skin when I instinctively test their strength. My mouth is dry, and my head is pounding from the aftereffects of whatever drug they injected me with. I keep my eyes closed, feigning continued unconsciousness while I assess my situation.

"—should be waking up soon," Griffiths’ voice cuts through the fog in my brain. "Sebastian says the dosage was calculated precisely."

"And the boy?" another voice asks—unfamiliar, but clearly one of my father's men.

"Palmer's team has him. They'll meet us at the house." Griffiths sounds pleased with himself. "Quite a coup, really. Sebastian was worried they might run before everything was in place."

My blood turns to ice. Erik. They have Erik too. Our careful planning, our staged arguments to throw them off our trail—none of it worked. Somehow, they knew. Somehow, they were always a step ahead.

"She's awake," a third voice announces—closer, probably sitting beside me. "Her breathing changed."

No point in pretending anymore. I open my eyes, blinking against the soft interior lights of the SUV. Griffiths sits across from me, impeccably dressed in a dark suit despite the hour, which I'm guessing is somewhere around 4 a.m. based on the darkness outside the tinted windows. Two men flank him—one older with military-short gray hair, the other younger but with the same watchful alertness of a trained operative.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Griffiths says, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Comfortable?"

"Where are you taking me?" My voice comes out raspier than I'd like, betraying my fear.

"Home, of course." Griffiths adjusts his gold cuff links—a gift from my father, I recall with revulsion. "Your parents are hosting a special gathering tonight. Very exclusive. Very important guests."

"I wasn't invited," I say flatly, though we both know that's irrelevant.

"Oh, but you were. In fact, you're the guest of honor." He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Your father has something quite exceptional planned. A proper introduction to society, you might say."

Nausea rises in my throat as I grasp his meaning. Not just another party—something more. Something worse. Maybe he actually found a match for me to marry. This isn’t just about controlling me. This is about making an example of me—and Erik.

"Where is he?" I demand, unable to keep the desperation from my voice. "What have you done with Erik?"

Griffiths’ smile widens, satisfied that he's found leverage. "Mr. Stone is en route to the same destination. I've been told he put up quite the fight—admirable, really, but ultimately futile."

"If you've hurt him?—"

"Now, now," Griffiths interrupts, his tone mockingly soothing. "No one wants to damage such valuable merchandise. After all, his father sits on a committee vital to your father's interests. We need both of you… intact."

The implication turns my stomach. We're not people to them—we're commodities. Assets to be used for maximum gain.

"Why now?" I ask, trying to keep him talking while I scan the car for anything I could use as a weapon. "Why move up the timeline?"

Griffiths studies me, clearly weighing how much to reveal. "Let's just say your father received some concerning intelligence. Something about his encrypted emails being hacked." His eyes gleam with cruel amusement. "Did you really think you could outsmart Sebastian Queen? He's been ten steps ahead of you since before you were born."

My heart skips a beat. They have no idea about Professor Austin. Maybe he’ll be able to get to David before they find out. There’s still a chance!

"It doesn't matter," I say, with more confidence than I feel. "People know what my father does. What happens at his parties. It's only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down."

"Perhaps," Griffiths concedes, seemingly untroubled by the possibility. "But time is a luxury you no longer have, my dear. Tonight will determine your future—and Mr. Stone's. Your father has invested considerable resources in the Munich facility. I hear their success rates for behavioral modification are quite remarkable. Who knows, you might even spend your wedding night there."

The car slows, turning onto what feels like a private drive. Through the tinted windows, I glimpse manicured grounds illuminated by security lights, leading to a sprawling mansion that rises from the darkness like a nightmare made real. It's not my parents' main residence—this is one of their "special" properties, used exclusively for their most private events.

My throat constricts with dread. I know what happens in this house.

"We've arrived," Griffiths announces unnecessarily as the car comes to a stop. "Remember your manners, Luna. Your father is already displeased with your recent… initiatives. Don't make things worse for yourself."

One of the men exits first, then reaches back to grip my arm, hauling me out of the vehicle. The predawn air is cool against my skin, carrying the scent of expensive landscaping and approaching rain. I'm painfully aware of my appearance—tank top and sleep shorts, hardly appropriate for whatever twisted gathering my father has planned.

Another black SUV pulls up behind ours, and my pulse quickens as the door opens. Erik is dragged out, his hands bound like mine. Even in the dim light, I can see the bruise blooming along his jaw and the disheveled state of his clothing. He fought them hard.

Our eyes meet across the drive, and the mixture of rage and concern in his gaze breaks something inside me. This is my fault. I brought this down on him by involving him in my mess.

"Erik!" I call out, starting toward him, but the man gripping my arm holds me back.

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