Simon Says Die

about it—if he was still trying to get her to leave, so he could live in the house, he’s ensured that’s not feasible by involving the police. He could never live here now, with everything that has happened.”
    â€œThen what’s his new plan?” Tessa asked.
    His fingers tightened so hard on the chair they started to ache. “I have no idea.”

 
    Chapter Sixteen
    M ADISON TURNED HER head into her pillow. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the bright, overhead light.
    She jerked upright, and had to put her hand down to keep from falling on the soft surface she was sitting on. A mattress, no sheet, on a concrete floor in a small room. Her hair was damp and smelled like shampoo, as if it had just been washed. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt.
    And they weren’t hers.
    Bile rose in her throat at the thought of a stranger being that familiar with her body. Bathing her, dressing her. She had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up.
    She shoved her damp hair back from her face, and realized she wasn’t bound anymore. She jumped up, then staggered at the first rush of blood back into her limbs. Spots swam in front of her eyes, and she caught herself against the wall.
    When she could see clearly again and the dizziness subsided, she looked around, trying to get her bearings. She was in a room the size of a small bedroom, empty except for the mattress. Bars covered the one window, a black square reflecting the overhead light back at her.
    A door was set into the far wall. She hurried toward it and grabbed the doorknob. Locked. She tried again, twisting hard, then rattling the knob. She pounded on the door. “Help! Is anyone there?”
    She beat on the door, screaming until her throat was raw. Gasping for breath, she collapsed against the wall.
    Focus. She needed to concentrate, think. There had to be a way out of here.
    The window.
    She ran to the dark piece of glass and cupped her hands around the bars as she tried to see outside. Someone had painted over the glass. She couldn’t see anything. The bars were wide enough apart that she could fit her hand between them to touch the glass. She pounded, trying to break it. She took off her shoe and used it like a hammer, but nothing happened. The glass wasn’t any ordinary glass or it would have shattered by now.
    Trapped. She was utterly and completely trapped.
    She turned away from the window and plopped onto the mattress. Her chest was heaving from exertion, and she sprawled backward. Her eyes flew open wide as she saw what she hadn’t noticed earlier.
    Pictures on the ceiling above her, dozens of them. She scrambled to her feet and squinted up at them, shading her hands from the light.
    Oh God. They were pictures of her family.
    Her mother, smiling at her new husband, standing outside a house. The villa in France, where her mom and her husband lived when they weren’t in Manhattan, the villa where her mother was right now.
    Above that was a picture of Logan and Amanda, on a cruise ship.
    On their honeymoon.
    Fear slashed straight to Madison’s heart. She’d seen these pictures before, on her mother’s social media Web site. Someone had printed them out and taped them to the ceiling. They’d built this prison just for her.
    Who, Damon? Why would he do this?
    She stilled when she saw a picture that hadn’t been on any Web site. A picture of Pierce, in Jacksonville, standing on the balcony at his apartment, flipping steaks on a grill. He was grinning and looking through the open sliding glass door at someone inside. Madison squinted up at the picture. She gasped when she recognized the faint image of the other person, barely visible in the photograph
    She was the person inside.
    She let out a low moan when she saw the next picture of Pierce, lying on the street after he’d been shot while trying to protect her, blood seeping through his shirt.
    The message was clear. Whoever had taken her was threatening her family, and everyone she cared about.
    Her body flushed hot and a buzzing sounded in her ears. She ran to the door. She rattled the doorknob and pounded on the wood.
    â€œWhat do you want from me? Who are you? Damon? Are you the coward doing this? If you hurt my family again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me, Damon? You got away once, but you won’t get away again. I’ll track you down. I’ll kill you.” Tears streamed down her face as she sank to the