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That doesn’t end the press conference, but to my surprise, they respect my request. The questions shift back to the music and the band’s future.

It’s exhausting. I can’t wait to get home, shower, eat something, and crawl back into bed.

35

—

Aran

By the time I got home around four p.m., I feel like a zombie. The Alka-Seltzer helped—the stabbing pain between my eyes is gone—but every muscle aches, and all I want is to collapse into bed.

I lean my shoulder against the doorframe and fumble for the keyhole. My vision is still blurry. Finally, the lock clicks, and I push the door open.

Someone grabs me and shoves me inside.

I don’t even have time to react. The door slams shut behind me. A second later, something heavy cracks against the back of my head.

Fuck… what the hell?

I stumble and instinctively cling to the person. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

Luke?

Then darkness swallows me, and I crumple to the floor.

“Shit…” I mutter as I slowly come to.

The pain in my skull reminds me of the prison riot. I also took a nasty hit there out of nowhere, just like this one.

But there’s something else. A heavy fog. My limbs feel like they weigh a ton, and my body won’t respond. My chin rests on my chest. I’m sitting on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. There’s an agonizing tightness around my wrists.

I blink a few times before anything comes into focus. My vision is still hazy, everything blurred behind a milky veil, but I’m surprised to realize I’m still in my own apartment.

In my studio.

What the fuck…?

My leather jacket is lying on the couch. I’m on the floor next to the window, leaning against the wall with my hands tied. It’s dark outside now. The streetlamp casts an orange glow across the ceiling. The only light in the studio comes from the floor lamp in the corner, dimmed to its lowest setting.

I tug at the zip ties around my wrists, but my body is too weak to do anything.

That’s when I notice the figure standing in the shadows near the entrance. I can’t make out his face clearly, but I already know it’s Luke. He must have been waiting for me outside the door.

“What did you give me?” I ask, my tongue thick and clumsy.

“Nothing that’ll show up in a blood test later,” he replies, stepping out of the shadows. “I just needed a little time to set everything up nicely.” He crouches in front of my outstretched legs and tilts his head. “You’ll survive it. Or maybe not. I’m leaning toward the latter.”

I scowl, masking my growing panic.

Did I hear that right?

“What are you planning to do?”

I try to sound angry, but the words tumble out like I’m wasted.

“Oh, you’ll see. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Until now, I’ve only felt contempt for Luke. Just thinking about what he did to Koh still makes my blood boil. But the second I see the unhinged gleam in his eyes, I realize this guy is far beyond reason.