My Ruthless Kidnapper

Screwed

Cheryl POV

"I'm Steph." She smiled innocently, like a child, as she settled into the armchair across from me.

I didn't respond. I just stared at her. She had to know he was a killer; she must have realized I'd been kidnapped. Yet, she acted so blithe, as if everything was amusing to her.

"Look, Cheryl, we could have fun if you just relax," she added, her voice light and carefree.

That's when I scoffed. "Fun? Relax? Sorry, but I'm not like you." The words squeezed out of my tight throat.

"Like me? What am I like?" she asked, her curiosity genuine as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

"Obedient to some criminals." I threw the words at her, barely containing my frustration.

She shook her head, exhaling a small laugh. "Finn was right about you. You're stubborn."

"That's his name? Finn?" I asked, confused.

"Yes," she replied, reclining back in the armchair.

So, he has a name.

"What now? You're just going to watch me all day and night?" I arched a brow in question.

"No. I have school and other things, deliveries to make at the restaurant. I promised Finn I'd stay here after class, until eight." She pulled out her phone and began tapping on the screen.

"Don't you think you're oversharing? My dad's a detective," I cautioned her, in case she wasn't told.

Steph paused, glancing at me from beneath her eyelashes. "Oh, I know. Trust me, I've known about your dad for years now. Finn won't shut up about him."

I froze. For years? Had he been planning this for years?

"For years?" I whispered, stunned.

"Yes. Ever since I've known him, he's been obsessed with the Masons," she said, rolling her eyes.

Obsessed with my family? If he wanted revenge, why wasn't he killing me?

"But why?" I asked, hoping she'd tell me what Finn wouldn't.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" she teased, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

"He's not telling me." My eyes pleaded for answers.

"You know, Finn's not much of a talker. He prefers action over words. I'm surprised he's said as much as he has this week. He told me you never shut up."

I didn't know what to say. Part of me wished Finn would stay quiet because when he did speak, his words were never kind.

"Look, this isn't as complicated as it seems. You don't have to cheer up, but at least eat something and take a warm bath. You probably have designer outfits in that box," she sighed, standing and moving toward the bed beside me.

My eyes stung with the onset of tears, blurring my vision. I pulled away from her and curled up, hugging my knees tightly to my chest.

"I get it; it's not easy, but let me help you." Steph's hand landed softly on mine, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. "I'm not saying I'll rescue you. I'm not looking to become Finn's next slice of barbecue," she joked, laughing lightly.

I looked at her, baffled. Was she serious or just playing around? Memories of Amelia, pushing the trolley of food, and helping me until her last breath flooded my mind.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt Steph's arms around me. "Shh," she soothed, stroking my hair gently.

"I hate him. I hate him," I whispered repeatedly through my sobs.