Chapter 3

Linda smiled, a thin, predatory curve of her lips. "Of course, dear. Here, have a beer. Relax."

She held out the bottle. The same craft beer.

My stomach twisted. The memory of the drug, the helplessness, surged.

I took the bottle, my hand steady despite the tremor inside me. "Thanks, Mom."

I pretended to take a sip, turning slightly. As I lowered the bottle, I let the beer dribble silently onto the sandy floor beside my chair. It soaked in quickly, leaving no trace.

My mind raced. Chloe. My fiancée. She was at a tech conference in Vegas, not too far.

I needed my phone.

I fumbled in my pocket, pulling it out. "Just need to check something quickly."

My fingers flew across the screen, typing a message to Chloe. *SOS. Casita near festival. Parents acting crazy. K. Need troopers. Come NOW.*

Send.

Richard's hand clamped down on my wrist. "What are you doing, Alex?"

His grip was like iron. He snatched the phone.

"Just texting Chloe," I said, trying to sound casual. "She's in Vegas. Thought she might want to know what's happening."

K chuckled from the doorway. "Let her come. She'll understand. She'll side with me."

His arrogance was sickening. But it bought me a sliver of hope. Richard scrolled through my phone, probably saw the sent message. He didn't seem too concerned, trusting K's confidence.

He tossed the phone onto a table, out of my reach. "No more calls."

The drugged beer sat beside me. They expected me to drink it. They expected me to succumb.

Not this time.