"No fucking way we're out—I'm so stupid for not stocking up on food!" Laura's voice exploded from somewhere outside the room, cabinets slamming hard enough to rattle the walls.
I lay there in the bed, still wrapped in the blanket she insisted I sleep with, eyes glued to the TV. Impractical Jokers played—Sal sprinting across a maze of tables trying to guess which ones wouldn't collapse under him.
I chuckled despite myself. The sound felt foreign in my throat, like laughter was something I'd borrowed from another life.
I remembered watching this exact bit with Elara. Her snorting laugh, Bella falling over on the couch because she insisted she could predict which tables were real.
The memory punched me in the chest. I shook my head quickly. I didn't feel like crying again. Not right now.
The door creaked and Laura walked in. She crossed the room with that slow, predatory confidence she always had around me. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead—her lips annoyingly soft, her presence suffocating.
"I'm gonna be back quickly," she murmured, brushing my cheek with her thumb. "I just have to go restock on groceries..."
I nodded and kept my eyes on the TV, pretending I was invested in the next joke. Pretending I wasn't studying every detail of her movements.
She changed in front of me without hesitation—jeans, sweater, shoes—like she was in some twisted domestic routine. She didn't even check the restraints. She trusted them. Trusted me not to try anything.
She sped out, slamming the door so hard the whole apartment shook. The sudden silence felt wrong. Too big. Too empty.
I sat up instantly, tearing the blanket off like it was burning me. My hands flew to the restraints. I grabbed the rope so hard it burned my skin and pulled with everything I had—arms shaking, teeth clenched.
Nothing.
It didn't budge. Not an inch. What the hell was this rope made of? It felt impossibly strong, like something meant for climbing mountains or tying down cargo.
My chest deflated. I fell back onto the mattress with a heavy exhale.
Maybe I really was destined to stay here forever.
(Laura pov)
Life since taking Noah has been... absolute heaven.
I thought I was going to break him, torture him multiple times, maybe make him scream until his voice gave out. But the reality was so much sweeter.
He was just too cute. Too soft. Too good. Sure, he had bratty moments, little flashes of rebellion where he'd glare at me or tug at the restraints like he thought he had a chance—but he always made up for it.
Always. His mouth, his body... God, he was like a gift that kept giving.
I was supposed to pay someone to handle the grocery run for me, but the woman I always used suddenly decided she wanted a thousand dollars.
A thousand—for basic groceries. She droned on about "risking her safety" and "not wanting to get involved anymore," and honestly I stopped listening halfway through.
Whatever. I'll do it myself.
I reached the bus stop and sat down, pulling out my phone. The first thing I checked was the camera feed—my favorite one, the one pointed at Noah's bed.
There he was, curled under the blanket I bought him, watching that stupid TV show he used to love. He looked so small. So harmless. So mine.
Recently he'd gotten more obedient too, which I adored. I still loved when he fought—god, the way he kicked and cried the first couple days, it did something to me—but hearing him whisper "yes, mistress" in that shaky voice? That was a different kind of high.
I switched over to Instagram to kill time. Scrolled a bit. The girls who used Noah before were posting again—some dumb party photos, some guy crying on their couch. Drama. Typical.
Then it hit me: money. I was running low. And those girls? They paid well the first time. Five thousand for a single night with my Noah. And I needed more. For us. For our future home. For a house where he could walk around freely... on good behavior, of course.
So I sent them a message: Want another go with my boy toy? Ten thousand this time.
They agreed before I even finished rolling my eyes.
Yeah. Noah's worth every cent.
The bus approached, brakes screeching, and I climbed aboard without even glancing around. Too tired to care. Besides, no one on this side of town would dare mess with me.
I settled into a seat by the window and kept scrolling—funny vids, cooking tutorials, recipes I'd never make.
Well... maybe I would, for him. I wasn't the cooking type, most of—if not all women weren't, but for Noah? For my sweet little treasure? I could learn. He deserved something nice. And once he earned back the privilege to walk around the apartment again, maybe we'd make something together. Like a couple.
I smiled to myself as the bus rolled toward the store, bouncing over potholes.
Life was good.
(Elara pov)
"Come on, Bella, the bus is here," I murmured, gripping my container of lo mein a little too tightly. Noah loved this stuff. The smell alone made my chest ache.
We boarded and slipped toward the back—my favorite place. Good vantage point, no one behind us, easy to watch everyone who got on.
Bella settled beside me, quietly picking at her orange chicken. She used to inhale that stuff like she hadn't eaten in days. Now she just... nibbled.
Ever since Noah got taken, she'd been off—muted, dimmed, always wearing that tired sadness like another layer of clothing.
I chewed mechanically, snipping noodles in half so they'd fit into my mouth without making a mess. My eyes drifted around the bus, slow, casual—
—and then stopped.
Her.
A woman sitting four rows ahead, leaning into her seat, scrolling on her phone. She matched the description. Same hair. Same build. And then she yawned, her head tilting back just enough for her eyes to flick upward for a second.
Green. Sharp. Unmistakable.
My pulse shot up like someone grabbed it and jerked it forward.
I nudged Bella with my elbow, never taking my eyes off the woman. "Sis... I think that's her."
She sat up so fast the seat squeaked, her own eyes immediately glowing with a furious spark I hadn't seen since the night Noah vanished.
"Holy shit, Elara. That might be her."
We both forced ourselves to stay still. Calm. Normal passengers just eating takeout on the bus. But this was our moment. Our only chance.
"Pull your hood up," I whispered. "We don't want her recognizing us."
I tugged my hoodie up over my head, shadowing my face. Bella mirrored me without hesitation, her hands shaking only once before clenching into fists.
We breathed in sync—quiet, controlled, deadly focused.
We were finally in the same space as the woman who stole Noah.
And this time?
We weren't letting her walk away.
We followed her into the store like shadows slipping through automatic doors. She wandered aisle to aisle for nearly two hours, piling groceries into her cart like she was preparing for winter hibernation.
Boxes, bags, vegetables, frozen meals—half the store ended up in her haul. She never looked behind her. Not once. Not even when Bella got close enough to accidentally brush a shelf and send a cereal box thudding to the floor.
Nothing.
She's so unbelievably stupid.
By the time she checked out, she was carrying so many bags that she looked like she might tip over from the weight. We trailed behind her again, blending in with the slow crowd leaving the store. She didn't so much as glance in our direction.
Back at the bus stop, we stood a little ways behind, pretending to scroll on our phones. The second the bus arrived, we slipped in through the back doors, keeping our hoods low and our heads down.
"She's so dumb," Bella whispered, practically vibrating with a sick mix of adrenaline and anticipation. "Hasn't even noticed us..."
I almost smiled. Almost.
The ride to her apartment was agonizingly simple. She stared at her phone the whole time, headphones in, clueless as ever.
When she got off, we followed—her arms trembling under the weight of her groceries. She kept tripping over her own feet, bags smacking into her knees and sides. At one point she dropped a carton of eggs and actually groaned out loud.
We couldn't help it—we laughed. Hard. Quiet, but hard.
She had no idea.
We ducked behind a thick bush near her apartment building, the leaves scratching at our clothes as we crouched. From here we watched her juggle her keys, nearly dropping them twice before finally getting the front door open.
"She still hasn't noticed us," Bella breathed, eyes locked on the entrance like a hawk watching prey.
The air went heavy. My pulse thundered.
"I think it's time to strike..." I whispered, slowly rising. Bella followed, silent now, eyes cold and focused.
After this...
There was no going back.