Page 60 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

ALISHA

I brush my hands over my face as consciousness creeps back, slow and sticky like molasses. My eyelids feel weighted, and when I finally force them open, the world swims in and out of focus. Questions bubble up through the fog in my mind.

Where am I? What happened?

Something's wrong. The surface beneath me isn't my bed. I push myself up, my arms trembling with the effort, and find myself on a bare mattress covered in yellowish and brown-orange stains. Bile rises in my throat. Disgusting.

As the haze lifts from my mind, memory crashes back like a tidal wave. Fear strikes me with the force of a cannonball, stealing my breath.

No! Please, no!

My breathing explodes into rapid gasps. I run trembling hands through my tangled hair as the scene replays with horrifying clarity.

The text from Cole. Relief flooding through me as I pulled into my usual parking spot. That moment of hesitation as I noticed how dark the area had become, but the need to see Cole, to fix things, pushed me forward.

I had just locked my BMW when it happened – that skin-chilling humming sound behind me. Then his voice, the one that's haunted my nightmares, slithered out of the shadows:

"Hello, doll face."

Three simple words that awakened a primal, bone-deep terror.

Fight-or-flight instinct kicked in as I spun toward my car, frantically pressing the key fob.

But I was too late. Strong hands yanked at my clothing, sending me stumbling backward.

The moment my body hit his chest, an arm snaked around my neck while his other hand clamped something over my nose and mouth. The cloth reeked of chemicals.

I thrashed against his hold, but he only tightened his grip. Panic exploded through me as my lungs screamed for oxygen. Black spots danced in my vision. Then my muscles turned to water, and darkness swallowed me whole.

What is this place?

I squint against harsh fluorescent light, forcing my eyes to focus. Plain concrete walls stretch up to a high ceiling, everything cold and industrial. When I slide off the mattress, something heavy drags at my ankles. My heart stutters as I look down.

What the hell? Steel shackles.

I shuffle forward, feeling light-headed, then come to an abrupt stop as my surroundings finally register.

My heart rate spikes. Through clearing vision, I see thick glass panels secured to the concrete wall, complete with a door.

Another glass panel spans the ceiling above me.

A black curtain hangs ominously to one side, hiding whatever lies beyond.

Oh my god. This is a cell!

My gaze sweeps the space, lips twisting in disgust at the sight of an old worn-out toilet in the far corner.

But what's beyond the glass makes my breath catch in my throat.

A beige carpet. Two armchairs and a couch arranged like a living room.

A wooden dining table with chairs. And on the concrete walls – my blood turns to ice – life-sized photos of me.

It wasn't my imagination. He's been following me.

The images are everywhere. Me and Amanda laughing in the parking lot. Me walking hand in hand with Cole – but Cole's face has been violently cut out of every photo. The obsession evident in the sheer number of pictures makes my stomach roll.

I stumble to the glass door, pushing against it with trembling hands. Locked. Of course it's locked. My fists slam against the surface as panic claws up my throat. "Please, anyone? Hello!"

Nothing. Just the hollow echo of my voice bouncing off concrete walls. Tears prick at my eyes as I rest my forehead against the cold glass. The reality of my situation hits me full force – I'm trapped in what amounts to a human terrarium, put on display like some exotic creature.

A weak, muffled sound breaks the silence.

My head snaps up. The noise comes again – someone humming with their mouth closed. It's coming from behind that black curtain. My heart pounds against my ribs as I make my way toward it, the shackles forcing me to take small, shuffling steps.

I reach out toward the curtain, but footsteps approaching from behind freeze me in place.

"Good morning."

My head whips around, and pure terror shoots through my veins as I finally see my captor.

"You're beautiful when you sleep," he says, walking up to the glass panel with practiced ease, like he's done this a thousand times before.

I stumble backward until my spine hits concrete, finally getting a good look at him.

He's wearing a neat grey business suit with a white v-neck shirt underneath, like he just stepped out of a board meeting.

His face is clean-shaven, dark cocoa brown hair styled in a messy fade.

But it's his eyes that stop my breath – grey orbs swirling with lust and pride, the same eyes that have haunted my dreams since that night in the alley.

"Did you sleep well, my doll face?"

An icy shiver races down my spine. He's been watching me sleep. To hide my trembling hands, I cross my arms, tucking them tight against my body.

Don't freak out. Don't show him you're terrified.

"I didn't sleep well," I say, forcing my voice steady as I glance pointedly at the filthy mattress. "Have you seen that?"

"I'm sorry, precious." His voice drips with false concern. "It's only temporary. Soon you'll have a beautiful room."

"Why did you kidnap me?"

"I didn't." His smile turns indulgent. "I simply brought you home."

My mouth drops open as nausea hits in a violent wave. I press my palms against the wall to stay upright. "Why are you doing this? Please, you need to let me go. I've got a family to return to."

His confident smirk makes my skin crawl. " I'm your family!"

My knees nearly buckle. No, he can't be serious. "I bet my friends and the police are searching for me."

His laugh – dark and soulless – bounces off the walls. "Oh, they can search all they want. They will never find you." His eyes gleam with malicious pleasure. "And if you hope Mr. Walker is coming to rescue you, you can stop expecting it. He's what I'd call... tied up at the moment."

Ice-cold sweat breaks out across my skin. "Cole? Where is he? Did you hurt him? Please tell me!"

"Because you asked nicely, I'll show you." His voice carries a sick pleasure as he walks to the table, picking up a small remote. He pushes a button, and my eyes lock onto the black curtain as it begins to move.

The mechanical whir of the curtain seems to last forever. Then I see what's behind it, and my world stops. My hand clamps over my mouth, barely containing the scream that tears from my throat. I lunge forward as far as the shackles allow, pressing against the glass that separates us.

Cole.

He's strapped to a metal chair, bound like an animal.

Dried blood cakes the side of his face. His left eye is swollen shut, angry purple bruising spreading across his skin.

A deep gash above his right eyebrow still seeps blood.

Grey tape covers his mouth, but his one good eye – that brilliant blue I know so well – finds mine instantly.

Oh god, oh god, what has he done to you?

"Are you okay?" The words come out choked as I press my palm against the glass. Cole manages a small nod, but I see the pain he's trying to hide. The need to touch him, to help him, is almost unbearable.

I start to speak again, but our captor cuts me off. His smug smile makes my stomach turn as he announces, "She's mine now, Walker. You'll never be able to touch her again."

Rage burns through my fear. "I don't understand. If you want me, why did you take him?"

The man stands with his arms crossed, satisfaction oozing from every pore as he watches us like we're characters in his personal drama.

"What is your name?" I force myself to ask, knowing we need information.

His eyes light up at the question, preening like a peacock. "I'm David."

Everything in me wants to scream, to curse, to call him every vile name I know. But I swallow it down. Think, Alisha. Play this smart. After taking a steadying breath, I step closer to the glass and say in my most gentle voice, "Hello, David."

The way his eyes sparkle at hearing his name tells me I'm on the right track. He moves to the glass, placing his hand against it while staring at me with an unsettling mixture of lust and adoration.

"You sent me a text through Cole's phone," I say carefully. "How did you get it?"

He rubs his palms together, grinning like a child sharing a clever secret. "As most people are creatures of habit, I investigated your behavior pattern. Placed trackers on your cars. For weeks, I tracked where you park, where you go on specific days."

"What?" Horror crawls up my spine at the thought of being watched for so long.

"Yesterday, I followed you to work. Watched him make you cry." David's face darkens. "I was going to damage his car for hurting you, but then I saw his phone on the passenger seat. It was a sign." His expression turns reverent. "I knew you would come when I texted. All I had to do was wait."

His eyes take on a dreamy quality that chills me to my core. "Now I can finally show you we belong together. I'll treat you a million times better than that man." He spits the last word, glaring at Cole with pure hatred.

I glance at Cole, whose nostrils flare with barely contained fury. I need to keep David talking, need to understand what we're dealing with.

"If that's true, why did you beat me up in that alley?"

David's head snaps back to me, his mood shifting like quicksilver. "I was upset with you. But I regretted it later," he shrugs, as if discussing the weather. "So to make it right, I sent you a gift."

My blood runs cold as I remember. "You mean that box with the dress and the picture of me with blood coming from my eyes?"

His face turns serious, almost reverent. "The red was meant symbolically for the passion pouring out of your beautiful emerald irises."

Bile rises in my throat at his disturbing explanation. God, he's even more psychotic than I thought.