32. Savion

THIRTY-TWO

SAVION

The week after the dig in South Africa flies by fast. I'm not exactly thrilled about going back to work. Staying with Declan, learning his quirks, opening up to him, has been the highlight of my days. But a man's got to earn his coins. Still, I'd much rather be back in Declan's arms than heading into the office.

"Will miss you, babe," Declan says, snapping me out of my thoughts as we reach his car. "I'll be counting down the hours until I see you after work."

"I'll miss you too," I reply, feeling the pull of him.

We climb into the car, and he reaches across the console, lacing his fingers with mine. His touch sends a tingle up my arm, grounding me in the moment. I can't help the smile tugging at my lips. If I had my way, I'd spend the entire day with him. But I haven't been to my apartment much since South Africa, and I need to grab some work clothes, tidy up, and just make sure things are in order. My place has been neglected, and I can't rely on Kells to check it—she's on vacation.

Declan got a call from Crystelle yesterday. She wants the band at the office by 8 in the morning. Declan would've blown her off if it weren't for the fact that he owes her for the South Africa trip. That's the only reason he's humoring her.

We're stuck in traffic now, and I glance at the time. It's going to be tight. "I think I should just catch a taxi around the corner. The driver might know a shortcut," I suggest, already reaching for my seatbelt.

"No way." He shakes his head. "I'm not letting you do that."

"Come on, Declan." I give him a look, knowing I'm right. "You've got a meeting soon. You can't afford to be late because of me. I'll be fine."

He hesitates, concern in his eyes, but I know he'll agree. It's sweet how much he cares, but I'm not going to let him risk being late for me. It wouldn't sit right. I should have been more organized in the first place.

"I'll be alright," I assure him with a smile, trying to calm the worry I can see creeping into his expression. "All I need is to grab some work clothes and catch a cab. I don't have to be at the museum until 9:30. Your meeting's at 8."

He smiles, but there's something reluctant in it. I know he's not fully convinced, but he doesn't argue.

I lean over and kiss him softly. "See you at lunch. Love you."

"Love you right back." His smile, this time, reaches his eyes. It's that smile I love, the one that makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world.

I step out of the car, the early morning air crisp against my skin as I make my way toward the sidewalk. Declan watches me for a second before pulling away into the sea of traffic.

A taxi rounds the corner just as I lift my hand. I wave, and the driver pulls over. The ride is quicker than I expect, even though it costs twice as much as it should. Still, I'm relieved when I finally get to my apartment.

Fishing out my keys, I let myself in. The living room looks... messier than I remember, but not overly so. I probably just left it in a hurry last time. Still, something feels off. A slight chill crawls up my spine.

I walk toward the bedroom to grab my work clothes, but when I open the door, my stomach drops. My drawers have been overturned. Clothes are scattered across the floor. The bed is unmade. I never leave the house without making the bed.

My heart hammers in my chest. What the hell?

The air feels thick, wrong. My skin prickles. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to get out, but my legs feel like lead. My breath comes in shallow gasps as my mind races, trying to piece it all together. Did I leave it like this? No. No, this is all wrong.

I turn, eyes fixed on the front door, and bolt. I don't think—I just run.

The door's in sight. Almost there. Almost?—

A hand. Big. Calloused. It clamps down on my arm and yanks me backward.

Panic surges through me. I twist, trying to break free, but I'm no match for him. He drags me into the bedroom, my feet barely touching the floor.

He's tall, built like a wall of muscle, dressed all in black. His face is hidden beneath a cap and shades, but I feel his breath on my neck. I'm shaking. My whole body feels like jelly, but I try to fight. I claw at his arm, kick at his legs, but it's useless.

His hand covers my mouth, and I smell it before I feel it—chemical, sterile. I hold my breath, thrashing, but the rag presses against my face. The liquid seeps into my nose, into my lungs. My limbs grow heavy, sluggish.

No. No, no, no.

I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My mind screams for Declan. He's all I can think of. His face. His touch. The way he makes me feel safe.

The darkness comes slowly, like a blanket wrapping around me, suffocating me. I fight it. I fight with everything I have.

But it's no use.

The world goes black.