Serial

Chapter Sixteen

I felt trapped. Like I was a prisoner in my own life. Day bled into night and I barely left my room, let alone my apartment. I couldn't stop thinking about the night I'd found Scarlett—what I'd seen, what had happened between Preston and I, and finally, what I'd had to do to ensure his safety.

It all made me sick to my stomach.

"Why can't life be more like a Channing Tatum movie?" Zhara asked as he lay bundled up beside me in my bed.

"Your life sort of is," I said flatly, as we watched the ridiculously good-looking star gyrate to music on Zhara's computer screen. "You're half-naked most of the time and obsessed with dancing. That could be you up there."

"Preach," he said, nodding.

It was eight in the evening and we'd been stuck inside my apartment for three days. After discovering Scarlett's body, the FBI had put me on house arrest until Kyle was apprehended. Agent Walker had quickly agreed with my theory that Kyle had targeted Scarlett to get to me. But in this particular instance, I would've rather been happy than right.

After that, I'd tried to convince Zhara to leave me alone too. Or at least to act like he wasn't the most important person in my life. But he wouldn't have it. And the truth was, he was probably safer with me than out there on his own anyway.

"Besides," he'd explained, "I'm too cute to get all cut up."

So for the time being we were stuck together, in hiding. Which for Zhara, meant a binge-watching movie marathon. For me, it was pure misery.

"How do people do this?" I asked him with a sigh.

"Do what? Strip for cash?" he asked, his eyes trained on Channing's abs.

"No. This," I said, gesturing around my bedroom. "Sit around waiting for life to just happen, with nothing to do except watch TV. It's so boring! And sedentary. Aren't you itching to go somewhere? Move around? Do something? How is this not torture to you?"

I was beginning to think I might actually be going crazy being stuck here. Not just stir-crazy, although I was feeling that too. No, I'm talking white, padded-cell crazy. Every noise I heard and every shadow I caught out of the corner of my eye had me convinced that Kyle had made it past the detectives and was coming to get me. Or worse, Zhara. A few times, I'd woken up from dreams so vivid that I swore I saw a figure standing in the corner of my bedroom. And I'd begun to grow hysterical, asking myself what would happen if they never caught Kyle? Would I have to stay hidden away forever? Without the ability to go outside alone? Without ballet? And without dance, then who was I and what was I supposed to do with my life? I'd be lost.

And then there were all the other people I cared about. What if Kyle found out about Preston? Or went after my family? My whole life felt out of control and I couldn't see a way to make things right again.

As Zhara cat-called the guys on the screen, I felt my phone vibrate on the bedspread beside me. Absently, I picked it up and looked at the text.

Meet me if you don't want that boy of yours to die.

A wave of dizziness fell over me and I blinked a few times before reading the message again. When I was sure that I was seeing it correctly, I began to hand the phone to Zhara to show him, but stopped.

This was it. The answer to everything. All Kyle wanted was me. And if I gave him what he wanted, nobody else would get hurt. Given his feelings for me, there might even be a chance I could convince him not to kill me.

It was a small chance, but it was enough.

I made a quick decision and texted back.

Where?