Stolen Hearts [Book 1]

Chapter 3

Michael Jackson

"Give her this," my sister says as she shoves a sandwich into my hands.

"I'm not feeding her," I refuse. I give the sandwich back.

Latoya stares at me and then places her manicured hand on her hip without grabbing the sandwich.

"Your hostage, your responsibility," She says.

I roll my eyes. "She's just down there until I figure out what to do with her."

"Well, until then, you have to give her food," Latoya says.

"Yeah, no," I say.

Latoya raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "What are you going to do? Let her starve?"

I sigh, knowing she has a point but unwilling to admit it. "She won't starve. She can go a few hours without food."

"She's been down there for over a day, Michael," Latoya snaps, her patience wearing thin. "If you're not going to take care of her, I will."

Before I can protest, Latoya snatches the sandwich back and marches toward the basement door.

I grab her arm, stopping her. "You can't just go down there."

Latoya looks at me with a mixture of annoyance and concern. "Why? Because you're afraid of her, or because you don't want her to know someone here actually cares?"

My jaw tightens. I don't answer, and that silence is enough of a response for Latoya. She pulls her arm free and gives me one last look, as if daring me to stop her.

But I don't.

I stand there, watching as she disappears down the stairs, leaving me with a mix of anger and guilt swirling in my chest. The sound of the door closing behind her echoes in my mind, louder than it should.

I wait, but I can't hear anything from down below. Not a word, not even a murmur.

This is a mistake, I think. A huge mistake.

But I can't bring myself to go after her.

—

I sit in my bedroom, playing out endless scenarios in my mind, trying to figure out what to do with this girl. This situation is uncharted territory for me. Normally, it's a simple, clinical procedure: intercept, eliminate, and move on.

How could I have been so reckless? What was she even doing there? The thought of having to end her life sooner rather than later is becoming increasingly likely.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Go away!" I shout, not bothering to hide my frustration.

I'm sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling, when the door creaks open, ignoring my command.

"I heard you kidnapped someone?" My little sister's voice cuts through the silence.

I sigh heavily and roll my eyes, pushing myself up to a sitting position.

"Latoya?" I guess.

She shakes her head, her expression teasing. "Randy," she corrects.

I groan, letting myself fall back onto the bed. Janet, never one to be deterred, saunters over and leans down, her face hovering above mine with that mischievous grin she always wears.

"Let me handle it," she offers, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

"No," I reply flatly.

Her smile falters, and I sit up once more.

"Why not?" she presses, a hint of disappointment creeping into her voice.

"I haven't decided what to do with her yet," I answer as I have been repeating since yesterday.

"If you don't know by now, then there's only one thing left to do," she says with a devilish smirk.

"Dunk, normally I would jump at the chance. Right now, I'm just not feeling it," I explain.

"You're such a control freak," she groans, "Honestly, you have a week to figure it out before I do."

Before I respond, she is already out of the room and slams my bedroom door.