Page 11 of Nave (Henchmen MC: Next Generation #14)

PAST

Lolly

“Welcome home,” Ben said, waving out at the glass house that mirrored the forest back at me.

I couldn’t explain the sensation of dread that had been flooding my system since we’d pulled off the highway and the cars and houses up and disappeared. Yet we kept driving. Kept climbing. Kept moving deeper and deeper into the woods, further and further from society.

I should have been over the moon.

We’d discussed this. At length.

We talked about how peaceful the woods were, how nice it would be to get away from the lights and sounds of town.

I guess I just imagined a ten-acre plot or something. With neighbors, if not in screaming distance, at least close enough to see flames if a fire broke out.

And while I was no expert, it felt like we were hundreds of acres away from anyone else.

The trees closed in around the big glass house.

Instead of comforting, it felt… menacing.

I shook those thoughts away and plastered a smile on my face.

“It’s exactly how you described it.”

That was at least true.

The problem was that in my mind, I’d romanticized it. I’d softened out the sharp edges; I made it feel cozier, more home-like.

“Wait… is there only one staircase?” I asked as we toured around the space.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it the law that there needs to be two exits, though?”

He looked quickly away at that, then shrugged. “It wouldn’t look as good with two exits.”

At the time, I couldn’t hear the lie in his words. It would take many months for my ear to adjust to his half-truths and full fallacies.

I just took him at his word.

I just tried to muster up some excitement as we made our way up the stomach-droppingly steep stairs toward the side door, figuring that the inside would be warmer, more inviting.

“Wow, what is that noise?” I asked, hearing this loud whooshing sound as soon as the door opened.

“The HEPA filters.”

“Multiple?”

“I have allergies,” he said, nudging me inside.

Confused by that, I looked back, watching the way he watched the door close, then listened to something click, and, finally, a red light flash on.

For reasons I didn’t even try to analyze, my heart dropped at that moment.

I put it out of my mind, though, as he led me through the cold, sterile space, trying not to sound disappointed when each time I made a suggestion to make the space cozier, he immediately had a reason that it was a bad idea or it couldn’t be done.

“We’re still not going to share a room?” I asked after he showed me his room. Well, he showed me the door to his room. Which he kept shut and locked. I knew because it was another door with a red light on it.

“We’ve discussed this, Lolly. Don’t be difficult.”

I bristled at those words, but chose to tamp down my hurt feelings as he led me to my room. I had a door. But no lock. Not even on the inside.

My personal bathroom didn’t even have a lock.

“Settle in,” Ben said. “I have to shower the woods off of me.”

I turned and watched him go, closing the door behind him.

Alone, I looked around more closely, finding a sheet of paper—printed and laminated—attached to the inside of my door.

With a list of my daily and weekly chores.

Two lists, in fact.

One for the household.

One for my personal hygiene.

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself, frowning at the paper.

You didn’t write lists like that for partners. That was something you did for employees. And as far as I knew, I wasn’t exactly employed by Ben any longer.

Not that it was a real relationship either .

I couldn’t stop the bitter thought.

Or the way I immediately started to beat myself up for agreeing to move out into the middle of nowhere with someone when I wasn’t sure about the relationship.

Naively, I thought maybe the move might change things with us. Judging by the house, Ben’s attitude, and my nifty little lists, that was not the case.

I moved away from the list and glanced around again, seeing something I failed to notice before.

Some things .

Cameras.

There were cameras in my bedroom.

Four of them that I could find.

Heart in my throat, I moved into the bathroom.

Thankfully, Ben hadn’t been that depraved. At least not that I could tell.

I glanced through the cabinets, finding every single one of them jam-packed with the products Ben preferred. It left no space for my things.

Heart thudding hard in my chest, I went back into the bedroom, checking the dresser and closet.

Packed.

With all white everything.

Suddenly, Ben’s words from earlier that week came back to me. About not needing to pack. About leaving it to him.

At the time, I’d taken it as him being super eager to get me into our new home, to show me what he’d been working on.

As I stood there looking at a sea of white, smelling bleach and lemon, seeing the view of nothing and no one for miles, though, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with excitement.

And everything to do with control.

“Lolly,” Ben’s disembodied voice called, making me let out a little shriek. “You need to bathe as well. And send your clothes down the laundry chute in the linen closet.”

I followed the voice to a speaker in the ceiling, realizing that I’d seen them throughout the rest of the house as well. I’d written them off as speakers.

They were intercoms.

So Ben could bark out more orders when the cameras caught me doing something he didn’t like.

And there I was.

In a home with one exit.

With a door that locked automatically.

With no car.

No phone—since mine had conveniently gone missing that morning.

With no one knowing where I was.

With no one around to beg for help.

I was trapped.

My eyes flooded with tears as I walked on numb legs into the bathroom, closing the door as I stared at one of the cameras, then grabbing the supplies to take my Ben-approved shower.

Because what other choice did I have now?

I fell into bed afterward, too raw to face Ben, and stared at the darkened woods outside of my bedroom.

“Welcome home.”