Page 117 of Played
I thrash wildly in his iron grip, my body bucking and twisting as I desperately reach for the personal alarm hanging from the thin silver chain around my neck, the one Jenna insisted I get after what happened to her friend last year. My fingers brush the cool metal—
Daniel yanks hard. The chain snaps, biting into my skin before it tears free. The alarm skitters across the floor, useless.
"You're coming with me." His voice is ice against my ear.
I kick backward, connect with his shin. He grunts but doesn't loosen his grip. His arm locks around my waist, dragging me toward the shadows between two SUVs. My heels scrape against the ground, desperate for purchase.
"Stop fighting." He wrenches my arms behind my back.
Metal bites into my wrists—handcuffs. The click echoes through the garage, each lock a nail in my coffin.
My mind flashes unbidden to his bedroom—to those nights when the door would close and lock behind us. To the games he claimed were about trust, about intimacy, about bringing us closer together. The restraints he'd pull out from beneath his bed with that slow, dangerous smile spreading across his handsome face, the one that never quite reached his cold blue eyes.
Trust me, he'd whisper against my skin, his voice honey-sweet and poisonous. I never wanted any of it—the silk ties, the leather cuffs, the way he'd test the bindings to make sure Icouldn't move, couldn't escape. But I'd nod anyway, every single time, swallowing my discomfort and forcing a smile. I'd tell myself it was fine, that it made him happy, that this was what relationships required. That his happiness mattered more than the sick feeling in my stomach.
This isn't a game anymore.
His hand shifts from my mouth to my throat—not choking, just holding. A threat.
"You think you can leave me? Choose him over me?" Spit hits my cheek. "I gave you everything."
My heart hammers so hard I think I might faint. Can't breathe. Can't think.
I twist violently in his grip, adrenaline screaming through every nerve as I try to wrench myself free. My leg kicks hard, aiming for any vulnerable spot I can reach, but Daniel anticipates the movement. He's always been faster than me, stronger than me, and he uses that advantage now without hesitation. With brutal force, he pivots and slams me sideways against one of the concrete support pillars that holds up the parking garage.
The impact is devastating. Pain explodes like white lightning through my shoulder blade where it connects with the unforgiving surface, radiating down my arm and up into my neck. My teeth clack together from the force, and for a horrible second, everything goes fuzzy at the edges, stars dancing across my vision.
"Stop." His grip tightens. "You're only making this harder on yourself."
Tears blur my vision. Where's Julian? Where's anyone?
The garage is silent except for my ragged breathing and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
I finally submit, not wanting to be hurt any further.
Daniel drags me toward a dark sedan parked in the shadows—something sleek and unfamiliar that I don't recognize, not his usual vehicle. My legs give out completely beneath me, muscles turned to water from fear and pain, knees buckling as my body tries to collapse to the concrete floor. But he doesn't let me fall.
With terrifying ease, he hauls me back upright, one arm wrapped around my ribcage like a vise, lifting me as though I weigh absolutely nothing at all. My feet scramble uselessly against the ground, toes barely scraping the pavement as he pulls me closer to the car. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to resist, but my body won't cooperate—the shock and terror have turned my limbs weak and uncoordinated.
"Please—" The word breaks apart.
"Too late for that."
He opens the trunk.
The sight of that dark, yawning space—that black cavity waiting to swallow me whole—sends pure, primal terror coursing through every nerve in my body.
I've never experienced fear like this before, not even close. It's all-consuming, paralyzing, the kind of terror that turns your bones to liquid and your mind to static. My heart pounds so violently against my ribcage that I can feel it in my throat, in my temples, behind my eyes—a frantic, desperate rhythm that seems to be screaming what my voice can't.
This cannot be happening.
This cannot be real.
Julian comes out of nowhere—a blur of movement and fury, all dark clothing and lethal intent, racing toward us.
"Get away from her!"
Daniel's grip on my arm loosens, his fingers uncurling as his attention snaps away from me. He spins around fast, his whole body pivoting toward the sound of Julian's voice.
