Page 3 of Reckless Single Daddy

That’s all he says. No explanation. No reassurance. Just come on girl. I hesitate before climbing off the bike, my hands shaking.. "Where are we?"

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he heads straight for the metal structure, stepping up to the door and pulling it open with practiced ease. He waits, watching me.

I glance at the dense trees surrounding us. No roads. No signs. No way to call for help.

I inhale deeply, my pulse hammering, as I fight to tame the fear inside me. I don’t have a choice.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I follow him inside.

I expect… I don’t even know what I expect.

Cold steel walls? A dark, musty space with nothing but a cot and a chair?

Instead, I step inside and find a cozy, homely space.

Not a cold, empty box—a fully transformed and functional living space.

The walls are insulated, paneled in reclaimed wood, warm and homey. A tiny but functional kitchen is built into one corner, with a stove, sink, and even a stocked mini-fridge. The sitting area has a worn leather couch, a low coffee table, and a shelf stacked with books. There is a bed at the far end, neatly made with dark gray sheets, and next to it, a small bathroom with a shower and sink.

It’s cozy.

It’s clean.

Outside of the glass shower making me feel exposed, the house is charming. The bathroom is the only extra door in the house. At least I can pee in privacy is the positive I’m clinging to right now.

While parts of this can be simple or talked down into an okay situation, most of it is full of unknowns. And yet, my chest tightens because it’s also a trap.

There’s only one way in and one way out.

The windows are small, oblong, set high across the top of the walls—like little skylights. No way I could fit through them. No way escape at all.

I turn just as Riot steps back, away from me.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at me as he reaches for the handle. "Wait—" My voice shakes as I step forward, fear consumes me, "What?—"

But before I can finish, he slams the door in front of my face.

Then I hear it.

The unmistakable click of a lock engaging.

My breath hitches, and I rush forward, panic filling me as I try helplessly to open the door.

It doesn’t move.

I pound on the door, panic rising in my throat. "Riot!"

Silence.

I bang my fists harder, slamming into the steel. "You can’t just lock me in here!"

Nothing.

I press my ear against the metal, listening for movement outside, but all I hear is the sound of my own heart beat rushing through my ears.

I’m alone.