Chapter 4

Liv woke up to the jarring sound of a nightmare. In the dream, she was falling endlessly, the sound of Jake' s friends laughing echoing around her as she saw him kiss Chloe over and over. She sat bolt upright in the hospital bed, her body drenched in a cold sweat. The pain in her head was a sharp, constant throb, a physical reminder of the assault. It wasn' t a drunken fall. They had pushed her. She knew it with absolute certainty.

Her phone was on the bedside table. She picked it up, her hands trembling. There was a new message at the top of a group chat she' d been added to months ago, a chat with Jake and his inner circle. It was from Todd, the one who had shoved her.

"Did you see her face when she went down? Priceless. Hope Jake gives me a bonus for that one. ;)"

Her blood ran cold. It was proof. A casual, damning confession of their malicious intent. She quickly took a screenshot, her heart hammering against her ribs. Seconds later, a new notification popped up: "Todd has deleted a message." But it was too late. She had it.

The door to her room opened, and a nurse came in, smiling brightly. "Good morning, Ms. Miller. How are we feeling?"

"My head hurts," Liv said, forcing her voice to sound weak and confused.

"That' s to be expected," the nurse said, checking her IV. "Mr. Peterson has been so worried. He' s been calling every hour. He' s on his way now."

Just then, her phone rang. It was Jake. Liv took a deep breath, composing her features into a mask of vulnerability. She had to play their game, just for a little while longer.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice small.

"Liv! Oh, thank God. I was so scared. How are you feeling?" His voice was thick with fake concern. It made her stomach turn.

"I... I don' t remember much," she lied. "The doctor said I drank too much and fell."

"Yeah, baby, you really tied one on last night," he said, his tone shifting to one of gentle chiding. "You have to be more careful. I was terrified when I saw you on the floor. I got you to the best private room, the best doctors. I' ll take care of everything."

"Thank you, Jake," she whispered, the words like ash in her mouth. "You' re so good to me."

"Always," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I' ll be there in an hour. Just rest."

She hung up the phone, a cold, hard resolve solidifying in her heart. She couldn' t stay here. This hospital, these doctors-they were all his. She was a prisoner. She quickly changed out of the hospital gown and into the clothes she' d worn to the gala, which were folded neatly on a chair. Her head spun, but she ignored it. She had to get out.

She slipped out of her room and hurried down the hallway, keeping her head down. She found a service elevator and rode it down to the ground floor, exiting into a loading dock area. Freedom was just a few steps away. She pulled out her phone to call Liam.

Suddenly, a black van screeched to a halt in front of her, blocking her path. Two large, menacing men jumped out of the back. Before she could scream, one clamped a hand over her mouth while the other grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back. They were strong, professional. She struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was useless. They bundled her into the back of the van, and the doors slammed shut, plunging her into darkness. A rough burlap sack was pulled over her head, and her wrists were bound tightly with a zip-tie.

Fear, raw and primal, seized her. This wasn' t Jake' s usual brand of psychological torture. This was something else. Something far more dangerous. The van peeled away from the curb, driving fast. She had no idea where they were taking her, only that Jake' s games had escalated to a terrifying new level.

After what felt like an eternity, the van stopped. She was hauled out and dragged into a building. The air was cold and damp, smelling of dust and decay. It sounded like an abandoned warehouse. Her captors threw her onto a concrete floor. One of them ripped the sack from her head.

She was in a large, empty room, lit by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The two men stood over her, their faces grim. One of them pulled out a knife.

"Mr. Peterson is very disappointed in you," the man with the knife said, his voice a low growl. "He doesn' t like it when his things try to run away." He knelt and held the cold steel of the blade against her cheek. "He said to make sure you remember your place."

Terror choked her. This was it. This was how it ended. She closed her eyes, bracing for the cut.

Suddenly, the warehouse doors burst open with a loud bang. "Get away from her!" a voice roared.

It was Jake. He stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face a mask of pure fury. The two men immediately backed away from her, their heads bowed.

"Boss, we were just doing what you told us," one of them stammered.

"I told you to scare her, not carve up her face, you idiots!" Jake yelled, stalking toward them. He moved with a speed and violence she' d never seen before, punching the man with the knife hard in the jaw. The man crumpled to the floor.

Jake rushed to Liv' s side, his face now a picture of anguished concern. He quickly cut the zip-tie from her wrists and gently helped her to her feet. "Liv, are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

He reached out to cup her face, to check the cheek where the knife had been. But as his fingers brushed her skin, a wave of revulsion so powerful it was nauseating washed over her. She recoiled from his touch as if she' d been burned.

Her reaction stopped him cold. He stared at her, his expression a mixture of confusion, hurt, and something else... something that looked almost like guilt. For a split second, she saw a crack in his perfect facade, a glimpse of a man torn between his twisted game and an emotion he couldn't control.

But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar mask of the concerned lover. "It' s okay," he murmured, pulling her into an embrace she could no longer bear. "I' ve got you. You' re safe now." Safe with her kidnapper. Safe with her tormentor. The irony was so bitter it made her want to scream.