by Meg Ripley
Just then, Becca’s phone buzzed across her desk as a picture of her and Jeremy lit up on the display screen. Swiping her finger across the glass, she read the message and texted Jeremy back with Rhonda’s address.
Rhonda was ecstatic when they had shown up. “The Mysterious Ladons,” she called them, her eyes roaming over them like a predator sizing up a meal that was already plated and being served to her on a silver platter.
A few other guests showed up, but Rhonda was keen on keeping Jadon and Jeremy at the center of attention, engaging them in a longstanding verbal headlock as they drank their way through a number of bottles of wine. Becca smiled to herself as she watched her coworker devour the brothers and quietly sipped her wine.
“She’s something else,” Alex said as he took a seat next to her and watched the spectacle. “I don’t know how Joey has been with her for the last eight years.”
Becca nodded in agreement as she looked over at the quiet mouse of a man who sat next to Rhonda. They were an odd couple to behold, but the more she thought about it, the more Becca thought they belonged together. Joey grounded Rhonda, the wildfire that she was, and gave her a solid foundation to fall back on when she exhausted herself with all of her crazy antics.
“I think he enjoys it,” she mused as they sipped their wine. “He must feed off of it in some way.”
“I could see that,” Alex agreed.
Jeremy excused himself from the gathering once he realized there was no other way to escape Rhonda’s clutches and warned Becca not to stay out too late, kissing her briefly before he left. Jadon followed him out the door as Rhonda scoped out her next target to interrogate, landing on another coworker’s girlfriend.
Becca and Alex watched, dissecting the psyches of their coworkers as they drank glass after glass of Chardonnay, doing their best to dodge Rhonda’s gaze. After an hour, Becca realized that it was getting late and decided it was probably best for her to get home before Rhonda ran out of guests to interview.
“Good idea,” Alex said. “I’ll go with you.”
In a shower of hugs and kisses from their coworkers, they made their exit. Rhonda playfully booed them for leaving as she left her sticky orange mark on each of them, and Joey thanked them for coming as he escorted the pair to the door.
Becca giggled as she stumbled out the door with Alex and they waved down a cab. He chivalrously held the door open for her, giving the driver her address as they began to relive the highlights of the party, cackling for the next ten minutes until the driver stopped in front of Becca’s building. Alex offered to walk her in, and as he held the lobby door open for her, Becca pointed out the orange smudge of Rhonda’s lipstick on his cheek, laughing as Alex feverishly attempted to rub it off.
“Come here.” Becca licked her thumb and began to somewhat remove the sticky residue.
Alex smiled and brushed her hair away from the mark on her own cheek. “Should I get yours?”
“If you feel so inclined,” she laughed.
They giggled like school children as they rubbed wet thumbs furiously over the lipstick that refused to leave. Impulsively, Alex leaned forward and licked the side of her face, pulling away with a look of disgust and rubbing his tongue on the collar of his shirt.
“That was disgusting,” he proclaimed, sending Becca into a fit of laughter.
“I guess I should head up and wash this crap off,” Becca sighed as she reached her arms around Alex and hugged him.
“Take care of yourself, sweetie,” Alex said and kissed the top of her forehead. “And if you find yourself in any trouble you can always call me, unless it has anything to do with Rhonda—then you’re on your own.”
Becca laughed and kissed his cheek on the sticky orange mark. “See you Monday.”
Climbing into the elevator, Becca giggled to herself as she reminisced about the evening, feeling fuzzy as she watched the numbers on the elevator panel climb higher and higher. Although she felt a little guilty for subjecting Jeremy and Jadon to her coworkers, she was content when she saw these two very different parts of her life merged together. It was an accomplishment, she thought as she held onto the wall to keep the floor from tilting too far beneath her.
The door slid open with a ding and she triumphantly stumbled into the apartment to find Jeremy waiting up for her.
Book 3
CHAPTER ONE
“Selfish and arrogant!” Becca yelled as she paced back and forth across the living room of Alex’s apartment. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she grasped at the intangible feelings inside of her that she wanted to strangle.
Jeremy had gone off on Becca when she’d gotten home, lecturing her about how late it was and how worried he had been. She’d retorted by informing him that he knew exactly where she was, and that he was the one who had left the party early because he couldn’t handle being put on display.
“She’s a small-minded woman,” Jeremy spat, “self-absorbed and immune to the feelings of other people.”
“She is my friend,” Becca said defensively, not admitting how loosely she was using the term.
“Just like Alex is your friend?”
The accusation had taken her aback. He brought up the cameras that Jadon had installed in the lobby and played back the images of her and Alex in the lobby, stopping at the moment where he had tried to lick Rhonda’s sticky lipstick off of her.
Seeing the playback, Becca could understand how he could mistake the interaction for what it really was, but she was too upset about Jeremy’s lack of faith in her to find the words to properly explain herself. He interpreted her drunken stammering as admission and tore off on a rant about all of the other nights she stayed out late with her coworkers, spinning them into secret rendezvous with Alex.
At some point, Becca had reached her threshold and had stormed out the door without even a word. Stepping inside the elevator, she heard Jeremy’s voice call after her but was too furious to bother listening to what he had to say anymore.
When the elevator doors opened again, she marched right through the lobby and headed down the street. She walked twelve blocks in heels, too angry to bother with a cab, halfway hoping someone would try to mug her or give her any reason to pound her fists into them.
Alex was confused when he heard pounding on his door, but when he peeked through the tiny peep hole, his mind registered the fiery ferocity that burned in Becca’s eyes and he immediately made way for her. Dutifully, he sat on the couch wearing his pajama pants, listening as she vented and tore down every minor annoyance Jeremy had ever committed. She even went so far as to blame him for uprooting her entire life, bringing her to a place as vibrant and alive as New York, only to keep her isolated from life’s possibilities.
“Can you believe that he would even suggest such a thing!?! After all that I’ve done for him, the secrets I’ve kept for him, he thinks that I’d just go gallivanting off with you of all people!” Her hands flailed in violent gestures as she talked and paced across the room.
“Does he know you’re here,” Alex asked, coming forward to take her hands in his before her violent temper manifested itself further.
“Don’t know and don’t care,” she insisted spitefully.
“Alright,” Alex said. “Let me grab a blanket, I’ll sleep on the couch and we’ll see if we can sort this out in the morning.”
“No,” Becca said when he returned with the blanket, “I’m already invading, I’m not going to kick you out of your bed.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Becca placed a finger over his mouth to quiet him. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” she declared as she took the blanket out of his hands. “I’ve already been intrusive enough. Go on, I don’t want to keep you up any longer. I’m sure you’re tired.”
“Alright,” Alex agreed and held out his arms for a hug. “Promise me you won’t run off in the morning without telling me where you’re going.”
“I promise,” she said as she
squeezed him tight. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
She waved him off to bed and made herself comfortable on the couch, wrapping herself in the thin blanket before she turned off the lamp on the end table. Her body and mind were so weak that she couldn’t even feel the blisters aching on her feet. Her exhaustion and anger had drained her, easily allowing her to fall comfortably into a deep, dreamless sleep—despite the stiffness of the couch and the scratchy texture of the pillows.
It never registered to her when the front door clicked open and the shadowy figure moved inside.
CHAPTER TWO
Becca woke up under soft, plush blankets with her head resting on a memory foam pillow. The pulse of the hangover was a dull throb at the base of her skull; an intense, stabbing pain seared through her eyes, which was only magnified by the brightness of the white light that poured into the room.
Gradually, her mind began to piece the puzzle together and Becca understood that she was no longer on the couch in Alex’s living room; instead, she was in a white walled room that was furnished with nothing more than a bed, a small table and a chair. On the table was a pitcher of water, a glass, one aspirin and her satchel.
In the far corner of the room, next to the only door, she noticed a tripod with a video camera that had a blinking recording light. Cautiously, Becca stood and stumbled over to the table, eagerly gulping down the aspirin and water.
The turning of a key in the door’s lock caught Becca’s attention and she zeroed in on the sound. It swung inward as she retreated to the bed and pulled the covers protectively around her. She watched as a quiet young man carried in a silver tray that she assumed held breakfast.
His slow, deliberate march, shaved head, and military fatigues told Becca everything that she needed to know.
When the door closed behind him, she walked back over to the table. In her satchel, she found her sketchbook and a pen. She scribbled a message on a piece of paper, tore it out of the book and stuck it into the seam where the back of the chair joined the leg. She then positioned the chair so that it was in front of the camera and the video feed could no longer see anything else in the room.
Hours passed. Becca did her best to remain calm by drawing in her sketchbook; a while later, she began to write apology letters.
First, she wrote to Jeremy and explained all of the things she had meant to before she had stormed out on him. Next, she wrote to Jadon, then to Alex and the rest of her coworkers.
Becca had just begun writing to Rhonda when the door unlocked again. She looked up and watched as a familiar figure entered the room.
Nate Stanley walked over to the chair, plucking off the paper before kicking the chair out of the way. Holding her message and waving it triumphantly, he complimented her. “Clever.”
Becca stared him down, too stubborn to give him a response. Unshaken, he directed his attention to the note and read it out loud.
“Jeremy. It’s a trap. Don’t bother coming after me. Take care of yourself. I still love you. Becca.” He turned to meet her defiant gaze as he crumpled the note and tossed it on the floor. “Cute, but do you really think he can resist coming to save you?”
She maintained her silence as he moved closer, waiting for an answer while she bided her time.
“You’re such a pretty little thing,” he told her. “You’ve got damsel written all over those soft curves of yours.”
His hand reached out and she resisted recoiling from his callous touch as his fingers trailed down her cheek. He held her chin as his thumb grazed across her lips. “Such a scared little bunny.”
Becca seized the opportunity and bit down hard on his thumb, her teeth cutting into the flesh of his finger joint as he screamed in surprised pain, attempting to wrestle his hand free. The blood seeped into her mouth and she felt the palm of his hand come down hard, sending her reeling as his bloody finger was released.
Another soldier appeared and held her down as she kicked and screamed with a wild fury until another came in with a sedative. She continued to struggle until the blackness pulled her under and her body could no longer move.
When she awoke the second time, Nate was already sitting in the room, his bandaged finger comically large as he flipped through the pages of her sketchbook. When Becca tried to sit up, she found that she’d been restrained to the bed.
“What is it about them,” he asked. “What is it about evil that attracts women? These monsters are just damning your soul, Becca.”
“But theft and violence are totally redeeming yours,” she spat at him.
Nate clicked his tongue disapprovingly at her. “My violence is in the name of St. George, as a warrior against the evils of hell that take the form of your demon lover.”
“Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night. You assaulted those innocent men just to get Jeremy and Jadon’s attention.”
“War is full of many innocent casualties,” he said. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” she said with disgust. “What did either of them do to you besides save your life? Jadon told me about what happened that day you saw him for the first time. He saved your life that day and this is how you repay him, by hunting him down like an animal?”
“He is a beast and a monster,” Nate said, slamming her sketchbook shut and throwing it onto the table. “He and his brother. They’re abominations that need to be erased from the face of the Earth.”
“You’re the abomination, asshole.”
“You’re too innocent to see how they’re corrupting you,” he insisted. “You think that you’ll vanquish that evil that lives inside of them with your optimistic love. The only way to truly defeat that is to cut off the demons’ heads and send them back to hell.”
“You’re insane,” she muttered.
Nate stood and walked over to Becca. His form towered over her as he looked down on her. “It’s not too late to repent.”
“Then get on your knees and get to it,” she told him.
She told herself that the disgusted sneer on his face was all of the satisfaction that she needed. Nate leaned down over her, his palms on either side of her head. “Why are you being so obstinate? I’m trying to save you from these demons.”
“You’re the only demon here,” she said as she spat directly into his eye.
“Fine,” Nate said as he righted himself and turned away from the bed, wiping the spit from his face with a handkerchief from his pocket. “You had your chance, but now we’ll consider you as one of them.”
“Good,” she sneered in a last bit of defiance as she watched him leave the room.
Again, another soldier came in with a sedative in hand. She stared him down with a seething glare and caught a tremble of fear in his eyes before he injected the drugs and watched her fade away.
As she drifted back into the darkness, Becca desperately hoped that Jeremy and Jadon had gotten her initial message and were on their way to someplace safe, not planning some half-baked attempt at a rescue. In her heart, though, she silently contradicted herself and prayed that she’d get one more chance to see Jeremy and apologize to him for everything.
CHAPTER THREE
This time when Becca awoke, she knew she wasn’t going to be receiving any more visits from Nate, or anyone else, anytime soon. The table had a basket full of fruit, jerky, and granola bars to keep her fed, and when she tried the single door, she found that it had been attached to a functioning bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower.
Between the sedatives and the unchanging light of the room, Becca had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been kidnapped. It could have been hours, or it could have been a week. Time was inconsequential, she told herself. She needed to focus on keeping herself busy so that she appeared normal and safe.
Becca whiled away the hours by filling her sketchbook, creating a workout, reciting so
ng lyrics to herself and sleeping. It felt like days passed and the white walls of the room began to mock her, so Becca decided to draw a mural on them.
She began at the corner directly across from the camera, pulling the bed away so she could work. Her pencil sketched onto the drywall easily enough. The rhythm of drawing created a much-needed routine for Becca. Eat. Sleep. Draw. Eat. Sleep. Draw.
She’d hum and sing to herself while she drew, her pencil moving in time to the tune that was on her mind. She would fill her water pitcher from the bathroom sink and showered every time she woke up just to keep in routine. Every fourth or fifth shower, she’d wash her clothes, making sure she wrapped herself protectively in the blanket on the bed so that she wouldn’t give the perverts of the Order the satisfaction of seeing her naked.
Gradually, Becca began to fill the wall with her drawings. She drew dragons upon dragons, along with life-sized drawings of Jadon and Jeremy. She drew strangers as dragons. And she drew herself as a dragon so many times that she wished the power to transform was hers.
At some point while she slept, someone had come in and replenished her supply of food. As she sketched, Becca explained to the camera how the Order of Saint George was full of cowards if they were too afraid to enter the room while she was awake.
“It’s really quite sad,” she prattled on while her pencil moved back and forth. “You’d think a bunch of big strong dragon slayers would be able to handle a harmless girl like me.”
Her dreams were always filled with fantasized escapes where she tracked down Jeremy and apologized to him for everything leading up to her kidnapping. What she wanted most was the opportunity to explain how he’d gotten everything wrong between her and Alex. She couldn’t bear the thought of him believing that she wasn’t in love with him anymore when he was the very reason her heart was still beating.