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Lucy placed the banana cake on the coffee table, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. Her gaze fell on a closed door at the end of the hallway. A faint, almost imperceptible noise came from behind it, making her heart skip a beat. She approached cautiously, each step feeling heavier than the last.
“Carver?” she called one more time, her voice trembling.
She reached the door and hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She knew she was crossing a line, invading his privacy, but something urged her to press on. Taking another deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The first thing she noticed was a man tied to a chair, his head slumped forward. Her breath caught in her throat and she wondered if he was the one who screamed the night before. His face was bruised, and he looked barely conscious.
Lucy stumbled back, her mind racing. She should leave, call the police, do something—anything—but her feet felt rooted to the spot.
The man groaned, his eyes fluttering open. Lucy’s mouth felt dry. Run! her mind yelled at her, but her feet still refused to move.
The man’s eyes focused on her, and he croaked, “Help me. He’s a monster.”
Help him? Something told her that was a bad idea, because Carver would know she was here. And yet, her mother’s lessons in kindness and helping others flashed through her mind.
Lucy snapped back to reality, frantically looking around for something to help him.
“Knife,” the man rasped, nodding toward a nearby table.
Lucy felt sick seeing the assortment of tools lined there. Taking a deep breath, she picked the closest knife. Her hands shook as she went behind the man’s chair to see what she was working with.
“Hurry, he’ll come back soon,” the man urged.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
She sawed through the ropes binding his hands, her heart pounding in her ears. The tension in the room was suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity.
Finally, she freed his hands and quickly moved to untie his legs. The man wiggled his fingers and shifted his legs, testing his mobility.
“Hurry,” he repeated, his voice more urgent.
Lucy worked faster, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She cut through the last rope, and the man bolted from the chair, stumbling out of the room and the apartment like his life depended on it. And maybe it did.
She should run too, she realized, standing there like a fool, still holding the knife, her mind still refusing to process everything that had just happened.
She took a step toward the door when a shadow moved in the hallway. Her heart sank, and she froze.
Carver stood there, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Lucy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
She swallowed hard, gripping the knife tighter. “I … I didn’t mean to…”
Carver’s eyes flicked to the empty chair, then back to her. His expression hardened. “Where is he?”
“He … he ran,” she stammered, taking a step back.
Carver’s jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have done that, Lucy. Now you’ve put yourself in danger.”
Fear and confusion warred within her. “Danger? From who? You?” she asked.
Lucy clutched the knife tighter, her knuckles turning white. Carver’s gaze fell to her weapon, and he laughed softly.
“Give me that before you hurt yourself,” he said, his tone commanding.
She wasn’t about to give up the only thing she could defend herself with. But before she could make the next move, he closed in on her, his grip firm yet careful as he twisted her wrist.
In an instant, the knife was out of her hand, and she was left stunned. How the hell did he move so fast?
“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” he said.
