Page 195 of Make the Play

My drink.

He's drugged me.

My pulse spikes, and I try not to stumble as I keep pace beside him, coat shifting as I move. That’s when I remember—thebackup phone. The one Chase insisted on, the one he ordered and loaded and showed me how to use.

Just in case, sweetheart.

I’d rolled my eyes when he handed it over. Called him paranoid and obsessed with me. But I tossed it in my coat pocket anyway, which is where it’s been ever since.

I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.

Sliding my hand slowly into the pocket as we walk, my fingers brush the cool metal and plastic. The weight of it is grounding, and the significance of it isn’t lost on me. I count the presses in my head as I move—slow, silent, concealed by the fabric.

Three clicks. Pause. Two more.

I pray to God the SOS system activates. Pray my location is sent and that my emergency contact—Chase—is notified. I don’t look to check, because I can’t. Because Nate will see, and I don’t know how he’ll react. I just hope Chase is looking at his phone.

We round the corner, and The Matchstick’s lights fade behind us, replaced by shadows and the low hum of a quiet Denver side street. I hear a couple of cars pass on the main drag, but other than that, there’s nothing.

His car is nondescript. A silver, clean-looking sedan. He reaches for the passenger door and opens it like we’re on a goddamn date. As if I didn’t just send a fucking signal out into the abyss that I’m in danger.

“Where…” I start, but my voice feels detached from my body. “Where’re we going?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he says, tone low. “Don’t worry. He’ll thank me later.”

He gestures for me to get in, and I ignore him, too focused on my muscles not responding the way they should. My vision narrows at the edges, but I’m still upright and still breathing.

And while I am, there’s no fucking way I'm getting in that car.

My feet won’t move, but it’s not from fear—though that’s building and simmering under the surface—it’s because my arms feel disconnected. My knees feel soft and unreliable. There’s a fuzz to everything now, even Nate, whose voice has dropped into something smoother and coaxing.

“Zoe,” he says gently. “You’re exhausted, just have a seat. I’ll take you somewhere safe. You’ll feel better once you lie down.”

It sounds like concern. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t seen the shift in his eyes and the flash of something colder behind his smile, I might believe him.

But Idoknow better, and even through the haze, I feel it. The lie in every single word.

He steps forward and reaches for my elbow, and I jerk back too fast. The motion makes my vision tilt hard left, and I grip the edge of the open car door to steady myself, the metal biting into my palm, grounding me for one breath. Two.

I force my voice out through gritted teeth. “I’ll get a cab.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he replies smoothly. “Come on, Zoe. I’m just trying to help.”

He’s too close again. His hand wraps lightly around my wrist, and something inside me clicks over from fear to fire.

I twist away hard. The motion is sloppy, but it breaks the contact. He doesn’t get angry, though, not like I expect. He just smiles again, calm and too fucking certain, as if he’s got all the time in the world.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says, as though we’re in a disagreement about something trivial. “But that’s okay. I’ll take care of everything.”

My vision doubles, then. The streetlamp across the road fractures into four points of yellow, each one pulsing. Panic surges through me now as I realize the drugs are kicking in fast.

I can’t pass out. Not here, not now. Because if I do, if I get in this car, I’m not getting out. At least not as the same Zoe.

He starts to reach for me again, and this time I slam the door into his leg as I move, hard enough that he grunts and stumbles, caught off guard.

And then I bolt. It’s more of a lurch than a sprint, but it’s enough. I push off the car and move, my boots scraping against the pavement, momentum dragging me toward the far end of the street.

“Fuck,” I hear him mutter behind me, and then the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

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