Midnight Overboard

The click of the cabin door turning was the loudest sound I had ever heard.

I scrambled across the carpet, my limbs heavy and leaden from the sedatives Flynn had slowly poisoned me with over the last seventy-two hours. Every muscle protested, screaming against the toxic fog clouding my brain. The prepaid phone felt like a block of ice in my palm. With a desperate shove, I threw myself back onto the king-sized mattress, pulling the heavy duvet up to my chin and letting my eyes slide half-shut just as the brass handle turned.

Light spilled in from the hallway, casting a long, sinister shadow across the plush floorboards.

"Rory?" Flynn’s voice was smooth, laced with a sickening, practiced tenderness. "Are you awake, sweetheart?"

I forced my breathing to slow down, mimicking the rhythmic, shallow draw of someone deeply sedated. Inside my mouth, I kept my tongue pressed against the back of my teeth, ensuring I wouldn't accidentally swallow the white pill I had managed to stash under my tongue just minutes before he walked in.

I heard the soft rustle of his expensive tailored suit as he approached the bed. Then came the familiar dip of the mattress as he sat down beside me. His hand, warm and manicured, brushed a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. The touch made my skin crawl with violent revulsion.

"You're burning up a little," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. "How's the motion sickness? Any better?"

I let out a weak, pathetic whimper—not entirely an act, given how violently my stomach was churning—and turned my face slightly into the pillow.

"So tired, Flynn," I whispered, making my voice breathless and thin. "So heavy."

"I know, baby. I know," he cooed, leaning down to press a dry, chilling kiss to my temple. "Just rest. The storm outside is getting worse, but you're safe with me. I'll take care of everything."

*Everything.* The word hung in the air like the smell of ozone before a lightning strike. He meant he was going to take my life, my family’s empire, and our entire future.

"Here," he added, his voice dropping to an encouraging whisper. "Just one more small pill for the nausea. It’ll help you sleep through the worst of the rolling waves."

He reached to the nightstand, picking up the small glass of water and another white capsule.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. If I refused, he would know I was onto him. If I took it, the chemical load might actually render me unconscious before I could execute the first phase of my own counter-attack.

Slowly, agonizingly, I cracked my eyelids open. I looked at the pill in his palm, then up into his handsome, empty eyes. Underneath the loving husband facade, I saw the cold calculation of a professional predator.

"Hold it for me," I slurred, pretending to drift off mid-sentence. "Too tired... to lift my arm."

Flynn smiled—a subtle, victorious twitch of his lips that confirmed every word I had overheard downstairs.

"Of course, my love," he whispered.

He gently pressed the capsule between my lips. I kept my mouth closed just enough to make it look like I was swallowing, letting him push the pill against my tongue while I covertly maneuvered it into the fold of my cheek alongside the previous one.

"Good girl," he praised, setting the glass down. "Just sleep. Midnight isn't far away now."

He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and walked out toward the balcony sliding door to check the weather, leaving it slightly ajar.

The moment his footsteps faded into the adjoining room, I spat both pills out into my hand, my heart racing a mile a minute. I had bought myself time. But the clock was ticking down to midnight, and the worst part was still waiting in the dark: