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Nothing but fear for the unsuspecting woman upstairs.

Darren steps over me and continues moving out of sight, while I lie here completely helpless.

Sadie. Please no.

With nothing else to do, I turn to the God I am just getting to know. Because I believe that He saved her once, and He can do it again. It takes everything I have to focus on Him as every other system in my body shuts down.

Sadie believes. She’s told me countless times over just the last week that she knew God didn’t leave her, even in her darkest moments.

So, it’s Him I go to now.

Lord, please let her be safe. Please let her be found. Please, God. I believe that You’re there. I believe that You brought her here. To me. And I know that You can save her.

SADIE

The door to Maverick’s apartment opens, so I get to my feet, butterflies already dancing in my stomach at just the idea of being in the same room with him. How did I fall so quickly? My mind has been reeling over whatever plans he might have for us today, and the smile hasn’t left my face since he went to get coffee.

“I started to think you’d forgotten about me.” But when I step into his living room, it’s not Maverick standing there.

It’s Darren.

And my smile vanishes. Unease kills the butterflies, leaving a twisted anxiousness in my gut.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back to get our jackets.” Darren holds them up, but there’s something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. His eyes are different—darker. His expression is not nearly as relaxed as it usually is.

“Okay. You have them. You can go now.”

“Actually, I really need to talk to you.” He takes a step closer.

I retreat. “Where is Maverick?”

“Downstairs. He was cleaning up and said I could come get you to bring you down.”

He was making coffee.

“Darren. Where is Maverick?” I ask again.

Darren’s expression shifts, and his gaze hardens. “Why are you always so focused on anyone but me?” he demands. “No matter how much I try to show you my affection, you just keep pushing me away!” he roars.

Realization hits, and bile burns the back of my throat as everything I went through in that cellar becomes clear.

No longer is it a masked man—it’s Darren.

He’s standing over me, a hose in his hand.

He’s telling me to undress and redress.

He’s yanking on my hair.

It’s his fists.

His boots.

His knife carving into my stomach as I screamed for help.

My boss.