Page 32 of Straight to You

RYDER

A sharp, splitting pain radiates through my skull. The pounding is so intense that each throb behind my eyes makes it harder to focus on where I am. Everything feels muffled and distant as I try to bring my surroundings into focus.

The last thing I remember is Kyle walking me out of Logan’s apartment with a gun pressed to my side.

I silently prayed for someone to walk past me and sense that something was wrong and help me, but no one did.

Instead, he shoved me into the back of the car and then…

I don’t remember. But judging by the pounding in my head, he must’ve hit me hard enough to knock me out.

Everything hurts, and my body feels heavy.

My shoulders ache from being slumped forward, and my legs and back are stiff like I’ve been sitting in this chair for hours.

I need to move my body badly, but the second I try, pain flares around my wrists and ankles, and I realize I’m bound to a chair.

Rough rope digs into my raw, chafed skin.

I try to calm myself by taking deep breaths, knowing I need to stay calm and alert if I want to make it out of here alive.

My vision slowly comes into focus as I take in my surroundings.

It’s dim—almost pitch black, except for a single light bulb hanging in the middle of the room, casting a yellow glow across the concrete floor.

The walls are unfinished and lined with exposed pipes.

The room is mostly empty apart from stacks of cluttered boxes, and it’s damp.

I’m in a basement.

Kyle tied me to a chair in a fucking basement.

I need to get the fuck out of here, but the ropes dig in deeper with every twitch of my limbs. I flex and wiggle my wrists, trying to slip free, but it only worsens the burn.

I try to breathe through it, but I’m spiraling.

And that’s when I remember what he said about Logan.

Oh god, is he alive? Is he bleeding out right now, alone, because I couldn’t stop Kyle? He has to be. Please let him be okay.

I try to shove the alarm down somewhere deeper to focus on getting out of here, but it keeps clawing its way back up my throat. I’ve never felt this kind of fear before. It’s not just terror—it’s helplessness, and it’s suffocating and consuming.

I have to get out of here.

Before I can attempt to make a plan, footsteps make their way down the stairs, and I brace for whatever’s coming next.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Kyle says, his voice like venom wrapped in sugar.

I keep my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of speaking to him.

He comes around the chair, stepping into my line of view. He’s got that off putting grin creeping across his face, and it’s apparent he’s thrilled I’m waking up in his fucking dungeon .

“You looked so peaceful sleeping,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a hand down my cheek as he crouches in front of me.

I flinch away from his touch, revulsion twisting in my gut.

“You don't have to be afraid,” he says softly. “You're safe now, angel.”

Safe? He thinks being tied to a chair in a basement is safe?

“Where the fuck are we?” I bite out.

“Somewhere no one can hurt you.”

I don’t look at him, letting the silence stretch between us. It must grate on him because his fingers clamp around my chin, forcing my face toward his. I jerk away instantly, shaking my head out of his grip. I don’t want him anywhere near me, and I sure as shit don’t want him touching me.

Kyle sighs like I’m disappointing him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ryder. Listen to me, and I’ll show you how good we can be.”

I clench my fingers into my palms, digging my nails in hard enough to hurt since it’s the only thing I can do.

The ropes around my wrists pull tighter with the movement, but I don’t stop, and I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

If he thinks being tied to a chair in a dark, musty basement is ‘good,’ then he’s somehow more delusional than I thought.

“You need to stop fighting this,” he says, dropping his voice. “I know he brainwashed you, but you’ll see how much he was bringing you down soon.”

Everything he’s saying is so far beyond insanity, I don’t even know how to respond, so I don’t.

He crouches lower, his face inches from mine, while I’m stuck in place, unable to get away. “Don’t worry, angel,” he murmurs. “We can finally be together now. Logan won’t be a problem anymore. I took care of him like I promised I would. I always keep my promises.”

Dread claws its way up my throat so fast I can’t swallow. I try to hide my worry and school my features, but Kyle sees it, and his gaze darkens like he enjoys seeing me on the edge of panic.

Logan has to be okay because I can’t exist in a world where he isn’t. I’d rather die than continue to try to survive this nightmare with Kyle, but I can’t stop trying. I have to keep fighting for him, for me, for us.

I let out a deep breath and force my expression to remain neutral, steadying myself before I speak.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer, but I don’t want you, Kyle. I will never want you. The only person I want is Logan. So let me fucking go.”

“No, you’re mine now,” he seethes. “I’ve been waiting so patiently for you. I’m saving you. From him. From yourself. You need me.”

“Saving me?” I spit the words like they’re poison.

“How the fuck are you saving me? You tied me to a fucking chair in your basement after kidnapping me! Then you say you stabbed Logan? You tried to get rid of the only person I care about in this world. That’s right, it’s him. Not you, you sick fuck.”

“Oh, I didn’t try, Ryder,” he counters. “I succeeded in removing that obstacle. Watched him collapse right in front of me, saw the blood seeping through his shirt. I know how to stab someone and kill them. It was all his fault. He didn’t listen.”

Everything slows down around me, but my pulse is sprinting. My brain tries to form logic, but all I hear is ‘I succeeded.’ Those two words seem like all that exists now .

He couldn’t have succeeded. I refuse to believe it.

Logan is the love of my life—the only person who’s ever truly seen me and stayed. And not only stayed, but loved me unconditionally, completely, and without hesitation.

He’s the reason half the good things in my life exist at all. He knows how to calm me down without saying a word, and somehow also knows exactly when to push back and keep me on my toes. He makes me laugh in a way no one else ever has. He’s undeniably the best part of me.

When things shifted between us, it didn’t feel strange or sudden. It felt inevitable, like we’d always end up there.

He’s the only person I want close. The only one I want wrapped around me at the end of the day. Even when we were ‘just friends,’ it was always him.

He’s always loved me back the same way—fiercely, fully, and without fear. He believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself.

And if he’s gone—if Kyle took him from me…

Then I don’t know who I am anymore.

I refuse to believe the words coming out of his mouth because there’s no version of me exists without Logan. None.

“You think I wanted to hurt him?” He shakes his head like it’s justified. “I gave him so many chances, Ryder, but he just wouldn’t let you go.”

He actually believes every fucked-up word coming out of his mouth, and he thinks he’s doing me a favor.

That Logan’s the villain and I’m supposed to thank him for ‘removing the obstacle.’ I want to vomit, cry, scream, but instead, I suck in a sharp breath, clinging to the rage I feel about Kyle and this situation because if I let myself spiral into the fear tightening around my ribs, I’ll fall apart.

“You ignored me because of him, and I don’t like being ignored, Ryder,” he cautions, and I can hear the calm in his tone start to dissolve.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” I snap. “Just like I said when we were at the station, I do not want you, Kyle.” I drag each word out as much as possible so he can hear the utter disdain in my voice.

I’m playing with fire, but in this moment, I don’t care.

Fuck him for talking about Logan like this.

Fuck him for thinking he’s doing me a favor.

He exhales sharply through his nose and starts pacing in a slow circle around me, dragging his hand across my shoulders, like he’s the predator and I’m his prey.

“I’m going to give you a chance to apologize for that, Ryder,” he says, his voice low and cold. “It’s the conditioning from Logan. He made you dependent on him,” he snarls. “But if you keep saying things like that, I’m going to have to show you how wrong you are.”

Every single cell in my body is revolting at what he’s insinuating. The idea of him touching me, forcing this twisted, sick fantasy, has me biting my tongue so hard I taste blood. He keeps saying I’m not listening, but he’s the one refusing to hear me.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ryder. I never did,” he sighs. “But you need to understand?—”

He stops right behind me, his breath brushing against my ear, and I flinch before I can stop myself. Completely repulsed by him.

“You do not get to disrespect me like that,” he finishes, his voice angry.

My fingers curl into fists as my entire body screams at me to fight, but I can’t get out of these fucking ropes.

“I’ll give you a chance to apologize. That’s how nice I am, angel,” Kyle murmurs, his hands settling on my shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, and my skin crawls.

I ignore his request, wanting him to know I’m not just going to obey his command. “You really think this is going to work?” My voice comes out harsher than I expect. “That I’ll ever want you? That I’ll ever see you as anything other than the sick, delusional piece of shit you are?”

Kyle stills. His fingers twitch against my shoulders, and I know I’ve struck a nerve.

He releases me and circles to the front of the chair, then a sharp, searing pain explodes against the side of my face.

The slap echoes through the room, whipping my head to the side, building on what I already feel, and my skull is somehow throbbing more.

“You made me do that,” he says almost sadly, shaking his head like I forced his hand.

“I don't want to hurt you, angel, but you gave me no choice.” He shakes his head. “I’ve heard the real you. The version of you that knows how to submit, how to be good. That’s who you are—not this mouthy, ungrateful version pretending he doesn’t need me. You need to respect me, angel.”

I drag in a slow, shaky breath through the pain. My lip is bleeding, and I can taste the metallic tang on my tongue.

What the fuck is he ? —

Wait, angel?

“Angel?” I rasp. “Is that why you keep calling me that? Because of a book I narrated?”

Kyle tilts his head and hums. “Yes, angel. That’s when I could hear the real you. The boy nobody else noticed. The one who needed someone to love him enough to stay, and that’s what I’m doing.”

Of course, I remember the book. One of the main characters, nicknamed ‘angel’ by his partner, lived with an abusive father who made him feel like he didn’t deserve love. His character easily slipped into a relationship where all he wanted was to make someone else happy.

I could relate to his character because I had an asshole dad, too.

I also know what it’s like to want something steady and good, but the only person who’s ever fully seen me is Logan.

So I don’t know where the hell Kyle gets off thinking I’m his, when I’ve made it abundantly clear I want nothing to do with him.

“That was fiction,” I snap. “It was a fucking job, and you’re the asshole in this situation. How don’t you see that?”

“You’re wrong,” he bites out. “It was you. I heard the need in your voice to be safe and seen. That’s when I knew I had to have you, had to save you. I could hear the ache behind every word.”

“That wasn’t me,” I object because how does he not understand that? “It was a character that I didn’t even write. I was acting!”

I don’t know why I keep trying to reason with him. He doesn’t even see me as a real person; he sees me as a fictional character who belongs to him.

Kyle shakes his head slowly. “No. You were honest for once. You let me in, and you’ve been mine ever since.”

My gut twists. “You’re sick.”

“No, angel.” He leans in close and grins at me. “I’m your salvation.”

Then he turns and walks away.