Kidnapped Love

Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Consciousness creeps in, accompanied by the shuffle of movement—a disturbance in the familiar quiet of my room. The soft clink of something metallic hitting the hardwood floor jars me further into wakefulness, and my pulse quickens. I lie still, feigning sleep, but my senses heighten with each stealthy step that encroaches on my space.

The gentle hum of my dresser lamp casts long shadows across the wall—a distorted marionette show with an unwelcome performer. With a cautious roll onto my back, I try to catch a glimpse of the intruder without alerting them to my vigilance. But the bed betrays me, creaking under my shifting weight like an old wooden floorboard protesting the passage of time.

In one fluid motion, the figure recoils from my dresser, hands retreating from the half-open drawer as if scalded. That's my moment. With silent resolve, I spring from the mattress, feet hitting the ground with a thud, and I lunge for the sanctuary of the door.

"Wait!" A voice slices through the tension, soft yet insistent. My body halts, muscles coiled and ready, heart hammering against my ribs. It's a voice etched into my memory, the timbre resonating with a past that feels both distant and painfully close.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he continues, a thread of earnestness woven through the words. Do I dare believe him? My instincts scream caution, but something rooted deeper urges me to confront the truth face-to-face.

I pivot slowly, my gaze anchored to the floorboards, tracing the path upward inch by gradual inch. First, the worn sneakers, then jeans hugging muscular legs, a torso clad in a familiar black shirt—the uniform of The Lotus Lounge where he works or... worked. It's Derek.

Our eyes meet, and the world tilts on its axis. Black hair falls carelessly over his brow, framing piercing blue eyes that hold mine with an intensity that once made my knees weak. Now, they only seed doubt and an unspoken plea. Derek—the man whose touch I knew better than my own, who now stands before me as both a ghost from my past and a very real presence in my bedroom.

My breath hitches, and my pulse hammers against the confines of my throat. Derek's presence looms over me, a mix of dread and longing tangled in the air like a storm yet to break.

"Is this a dream?" I whisper, the question as fragile as the hope flickering within me.

"No. This is real. It was all real," he asserts, his voice low, each word punctuated with the gravity of our shared past.

"What are you doing here?" The confusion snares my words, turning them sharp. He was cuffed and taken away last I saw him—his freedom surely stripped for his role in my nightmare.

Derek's posture crumbles slightly, the muscle-laden arms that once held me now hang heavy at his sides. "I'm looking for the ring," he exhales, almost pleading. His eyes search mine, desperate for something I'm not sure I can give.

"You are here to steal from me again?" The accusation spills from me, bitterness lacing my tone. "I guess I know who's been breaking into my room."

His jaw clenches, a ripple of tension traveling through his frame. "I never wanted to do it. The last time... I left it on your porch because I couldn't take it." His plea carves into the silence between us.

I remember the night, the shadow leaping into darkness. Ron had dismissed my fears, but now...

"I need to find it," Derek persists, his voice threading through the dimly lit space.

A scoff escapes me before I can swallow it. "I don't have a ring. Why is it so important to you? Was my necklace not enough?"

He steps forward, closing the gap between betrayal and yearning. "The necklace and ring go together. It's the only way they work."