“We can’t lose a helicopter on a road like this. You were in the military, you know that.”“Then why the hell did you cut through that forest?”“I changed our route to change the destination.”“What good is changing destinations if we can’t shake the helicopter?”The car jolted onto the road. I looked at Jerome’s sun–burned cheek, ear, and neck, and asked, “How do you plan to escape?”Out on the open country road, Jerome pressed the accelerator, and an eerie smile spread across his face. He looked at me, and suddenly a rush of nostalgia washed over me. Not the scent of Jerome himself, but the memory of this moment—sitting side by side in a speeding car, dreaming of flight from terror. The midday sun poured golden light through the window, and the sky was a brilliant blue. The sudden familiar ache tightened my throat. Unaware of my unease, Jerome whispered with those beautiful, smiling lips, “What’s there to worry about? You’ve got a specialist with you.”My chest tightened so painfully I turned away. I craned my neck out the window to look at the sky—only to see the helicopter had not followed us to the end. It trailed for about five minutes along the country road, then stowed its ladder and vanished in the opposite direction. I watched it disappear from view before sliding back into the car. My ears still rang from the rotor [N O V E L I G H T] noise. Jerome didn’t even seem to notice; he focused solely on driving.Thanks to his bone-shaking speed, we soon entered a small town. A modest sign read “Mulsby.” Only then did Jerome ease off the gas. He slipped into the flow of other cars, merging onto the highway. As we left the emptiness of the country road for a busy road, my tension drained away—and the pain I’d been ignoring flooded back.My wounds were minimal: a ripped corner of my mouth and a carpet-burn abrasion stung a bit but nothing serious. Down below still throbbed, but if I stayed still I could endure it. Worse were my aching limbs, from running and being dragged and broken‐in to captivity. My muscles groaned with fatigue. Even sitting, my whole body felt numb and sore.At least, compared to last night’s mess, they’d preferred rape over anal brutality. They’d used plenty of gel so there was no tearing, but that was the only mercy. Hours of non-stop abuse left me in tears if I tried to walk. I’d need two full days of rest—thankfully my fitness from the military and regular exercise made that possible. Meaning Jamie…I glanced at Jerome. He was untying his bow tie. His hands were far from pretty, rough and scarred with calluses, knuckles thickened. In Laberham they’d been rough too. At the mansion, Jerome had called the man we met the Deputy Director, and that man had called Jerome Agent. The origin of those hands was obvious.“Agent Jerome.”He smiled as he folded his bow tie into his pocket. His eyes danced with mischief. In his pronounced Cockney accent, he replied politely, “It’s an honor to serve a war hero, Sergeant.”“An agent, huh? Are you with some secret intelligence service?”“Strictly speaking, I can’t confirm or deny that, Raymond.”I glared, mocking, “An intelligence-service operative goes to the club, kidnaps civilians to rape them, and attends orgies?”“Uh…”“And what happened to the woman who was assaulted with me last night? Did Agent Jerome handle the aftermath personally? Did you kill her and dispose of the body?”“Violent, aren’t we?”Jerome chuckled, but his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking behind us. Then he said softly, “Jamie made it home safely early this morning. She’s probably receiving treatment now.”“Why do you do these things?”“What things?”“Why mutilate ordinary people and mark them that way? Jerome, do you enjoy it? Does it feed your perverse sadism? How long will you keep doing it? How many times?”“Like I said before.”Jerome suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the road and leaned toward me. Startled, I held my breath and stared as he drew close. He smiled with narrowed eyes and pressed a quick kiss to my lips—too short to break the skin. Then he returned to his seat and tugged my safety belt tight. He buckled me in and gripped the wheel. His voice remained soft: “I’m opposed to violence and drugs.”At that moment he swerved into the oncoming lane. A car nearly hit us, its horn blaring as it veered away. Without pausing, Jerome slammed the accelerator into reverse and launched down the lane. Glancing back, I saw two cars following us in reverse, crossing lanes to chase us.If Jerome truly was a secret agent, it made sense, but his driving was astonishing. He dodged oncoming cars with deft maneuvers, then at an intersection, with perfect timing as the light changed, whipped into another lane. Behind us, tires screeched and horns blasted, but he merely glanced in the mirror and remained unfazed.We shook off one car, and the last pursuer lost us when Jerome zig-zagged down a narrow alley. He finally braked hard somewhere.I pressed my back to the seat and gripped the handle above the door, exhaling at last. Jerome unbuckled me and said, “From here on we’ll have to run.”“Can you still run, you madman?”My stomach churned as if the car were still speeding. Jerome unlatched my seat belt with a smirk. “You used to run plenty in ‘Kelly.’ Just run like then.”He grabbed my collar like he meant to strangle me, growling, “You might remember that fondly, but say that again and I’ll rip out your tongue.”“Oh, right. After last night you must be in no shape to run. My bad, Raymond. I apologize.”“You bastard…”“I’ll help you. Let’s go.”“Get your hands off me, fuck.”I shoved Jerome hard and flung open the door. Getting out was an ordeal—I nearly collapsed to the road. Leaning on the frame, I managed to stand as the winter wind bit. Jerome climbed out and hurried to my side without a word.He held out his hand. A memory I’d nearly forgotten flooded back: trapped in a log cabin, strung out on drugs until I’d forgotten how to walk, when Jerome reached out and said, “If I offer my hand, you take it.” The twenty-five-year-old Jerome had faded, and now the man in his thirties stood before me, hand extended, reminding me I could stand, I could walk, I could run.I didn’t want to take his hand. I wanted to push him away and crawl off. But my will collapsed. I took his hand and leaned on him. Jerome wrapped his arm around my waist and we moved swiftly forward. I watched his face as he fixed his gaze on the path ahead and asked, “Where are you planning to lock me up this time?”“Lock you up?”“To keep me from seeing Timothy. First it was that damned school, then the cabin. What now?”“Well, I haven’t thought that far ahead. First, I thought we’d change clothes.”“Clothes?”“Look at us. We look like groomsmen at a wedding who ran off together.”He was joking, but he was right. He wore a fine tuxedo and I, a conspicuous suit. We stood out like sore thumbs, and if Timothy wanted to find us, he’d spot us in an instant. Passersby already glanced at us as I leaned on Jerome.Frustrated by his avoidance, I jabbed him in the ribs. Jerome winced but still smiled with amusement.“Don’t be so harsh. We’re both in the same mess.”I was speechless—how could I share this fate with Jerome, whom I hated so fiercely? Yet here we were, side by side, closer even than that. My arm over his shoulder, his arm around my waist, holding me up. We had become a “we.” The strangeness kept me silent.“There’s no place to change, taxis are risky, and you’re not up to fighting,” Jerome said brightly.“All because of you, huh?” I panted, glaring.“Because of you. You brought this on yourself.”“I—I—”I stopped and stared. Jerome returned my gaze with that same calm smile. We paused in silent standoff until the absurdity made me look away.As we walked, I found myself leaning on him more and more. After that hour of car stunts I was far more exhausted than in the mansion. My legs would have collapsed earlier, but I stubbornly pressed on so he wouldn’t have to carry me. Still, my weight leaned heavily on him. If I faltered, he’d brace me and slow his pace. He seemed to think I was complaining. Truth was, I was gasping for breath.Two blocks later I was close to collapse. My knees buckled, and Jerome seated me on the curb. He sat beside me and wiped the sweat from my brow. He, too, seemed weary and exhaled deeply, resting his cheek on his hand as he looked at me.“What shall we do now?”“…”“Advise me, Specialist.”His face was oddly serene, void of worry. I had nothing to say and just caught my breath. Jerome studied me, then suddenly smiled. His green eyes gleamed with mischief and his reddened lips parted to show white teeth. A breeze tousled his damp black hair.Jerome reached out and stroked my cheek, wiping away the sweat and then trailing his cool hand down my jaw to cradle my neck. I stared wordlessly, skin prickling under his deliberate caress. I slapped his hand away roughly.“Why don’t you ask Agent Jerome instead of me, a helpless civilian?”“Such humility.”Jerome persistently brushed my hair back.“We could each go our own way from here.”“What a shameful suggestion!”“Who’s sad? You’re glad to shed that dead weight, and I’m glad I don’t have to look at your face.”“What if Timothy finds you?”“I’ve got business there anyway.”“And if he torments you like he did last night?”“You worrying about me? How touching.”I yanked his wrist away irritably.“You could’ve worried sooner, like at Bluebell or Laberham.”Jerome placed his hand on my cheek again. As I reached to brush it off, he suddenly snatched my hand in a painful grip and grinned languidly.“I am worrying. If Timothy catches you, I’m in a tight spot.”He pressed my hand to the ground and moved close, slipping his hand into my pocket. Moments later he withdrew my phone and released my hand. I swung my fist at him but he leaned back and the blow missed. Off balance, I stumbled as Jerome put distance between us.

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