The nights are the worst now that Eden’s back.

During the day, I keep busy with my classes, practicing as hard as ever. Ashton and I have scheduled a brief phone call each afternoon, just before my final class. Sometimes, in the evening, we send each other naughty sexts.

But they only make it worse when I’m lying alone, cold and lonely, missing his touch. Yes, I miss the sex, but I want the rest of it too – the conversations, the togetherness, the little ways we’ve figured out how to make each other smile.

It’s killing me. I’m so sad without him that one day, between classes, I dare to ask Eden how she feels about Ashton dating.

She shrugs. “He’s never really dated. I think he’s waiting until I’m out on my own.” Her nose wrinkles. “But did you hear about Brad and Madame Ellis?”

Brad is one of our fellow dancers. I have an inkling from the way she says it, but there’s no response I can give besides, “No, what?”

“They’re an item,” Eden says. “Everyone was talking about it earlier. She’s old enough to be his mother.”

I try to hide my extreme discomfort. “People can’t help who they love, Eden.”

“It’s gross.” She makes a face as we go into our next class.

The conversation preys on my mind all through the next hour. Finally, in the final few minutes of the class, I slip out to use the restroom … and see Brad and Madame Ellis in the hallway.

They’re standing close together, looking at each other in a way I recognize. The same way Ash and I look at each other. Not just with lust, but with affection and respect and devotion.

They’re in love.

I’m in love with Ashton.

I have to tell him. Now. Nothing else matters.

I rush blindly toward the exit. I’m outside before I realized that Eden’s followed me. “Where are you going? We have another class.”

What can I say? I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t tell her before I’ve talked to Ashton. Instead of answering, I go down the steps to the sidewalk, Eden at my side.

“Tori, what–” she breaks off with a gasp that sounds more like a choked-off scream. I turn to see James Hopper, Lisa’s no-good ex-husband. He’s standing close to Eden, and when he sees me looking, he shows me the gun concealed in his jacket pocket – a gun aimed right at my friend.

“Been watching you.” His voice is slurred, but I don’t need it to know he’s drunk – I can smell the alcohol from here. “Know all about you.”

He weaves slightly, but not enough that Eden or I can risk trying to take him. “Asshole took my wife away,” he says, “so I’m gonna take his daughter from him. And his girlfriend. We’ll see how he likes that.”

He drags Eden down the sidewalk. I’m too afraid of the gun to try to call for help. We quick-step through the afternoon crowds thronging the sidewalk, moving at a brisk New York pace. I keep an eye out for any police I might be able to signal, but don’t see any.

My phone rings. It has to be Ashton, calling for our regular afternoon chat. I don’t answer. A few moments later, it rings again. The fourth time he calls, Hopper snatches the phone away from me and hurls it into the street.

When he leads us right to our apartment building, my heart sinks. James forces Eden to code us into the building, staying close behind her, the gun in his pocket touching the small of her back.

Once we’re inside, he herds us toward the elevator. “Kill you both,” he says as we ride up to our floor. “Right in front of him. Kill him, too, when I’m done with you – after he tells me where Lisa is. See what my wife says when she finds out what happened to her fancy lawyer.”

I’ve been too scared to even look at Eden; the sight of her white, terrified face from the corner of my eye is bad enough. As we approach our door, I have to try something, anything. “Please,” I whisper.

“Shut up, bitch!”

I cringe and fall silent. Eden unlocks the door and we go inside. “Over there,” Hopper demands, pointing at the dining room table. “Pull out two of those chairs.”

He has the gun out now, pointing it at us, so we do as he says. From his other jacket pocket, he produces a roll of duct tape and tosses it to me. “Tie her up. Nice and tight.”

I try not to cry as I bind Eden to the chair. My efforts to keep her bonds loose are futile; Hopper makes me wrap the tape around her arms and legs over and over. Finally, he’s satisfied.

“Now you,” he says, and I sit down, trembling, in the other chair. He wraps me up even more tightly than I did Eden. When he pulls a switchblade from a pocket of his jeans, we both whimper in fear.

“Gut you like a couple of pigs,” he snarls at us. “Soon as that asshole comes through the door.”

Ashton has to know something’s wrong by now. He knows I would answer him if I could. Please, baby, I think. Be safe.

I don’t know how long Hopper can keep it together. Will he get tired of waiting if Ashton doesn’t come, and kill us anyway?

He goes down the hall, into my bedroom, and comes back with one of the pajama sets Ash got me. Cutting the clothing with the knife, he fashions it into strips and uses them to blindfold us.

Now all we can do is listen.

And hope.