Through the fog of my desolation came a knock at the bedroom door. It was there, rapping in the distance, yet I didn’t want to hear. With my phone secured between my hands, waiting, praying, and hoping for a call or a text message, I was too angry to answer the taps that continued.

No, angry wasn’t the right word.

Angry didn’t even come close to describing my feelings—my swell of emotions.

Livid.

Enraged.

Incensed.

My list continued as I ignored the knocking.

Hurt.

Disappointed.

Beyond consolation.

“Araneae,” Lorna’s voice came from the other side of the door, adding to the knocking.

I’d cried a bucket of tears, worrying about what was happening in Boulder, and while it seemed that none should be left, more came as I finally stood, my head pounding and my body drained.

Throughout the last hours I’d tried to think of ways to escape.

How fucking sick was it that my best friend had been taken and I was the one who needed to escape?

I wanted to throw something through one of the giant windows, but even if it would break—which I doubted it would—I’d be staring down at Chicago from ninety-seven stories in the air. I’d need a damn parachute for me to make it to the ground.

I’d contemplated the elevators. I didn’t need to test the one at the front door—the one Genevieve Sparrow had used—to know it wouldn’t work. Sterling had told me that in a text message. His words about leaving the apartment from weeks ago came back to me. “Cannot. As in...are incapable of, not only forbidden but physically unable. Is that spelled out enough for you? Obviously, following rules voluntarily is not your strong suit. The choice for you to go against my will regarding leaving the apartment has been taken away from you.”

Trapped.

The weight of that reality was unbearable.

If I felt this way, how was Louisa feeling?

“Araneae, please. I know you’re in there.”

Walking from the chaise where I’d been sitting by the window, I dredged myself across the massive bedroom—my prison—toward the bedroom doors. The burden of my capture made moving toward Lorna’s voice difficult, like the process of walking through knee-deep water in a lake with a mucky bottom. Each step was harder than the last, pulling me down.

With my last bit of energy—while knowing that I was a walking, talking, blubbering mess—I yanked open one of the doors while keeping my chin down. I’d made it to her; that didn’t mean I wanted to look at her. She was one of them, one of the people I’d trusted who now had me held prisoner.

I didn’t care how fucking beautiful Sterling’s apartment was.

A gilded cage was still a cage.

Avoiding Lorna’s eyes, I kept my gaze pointed downward, concentrating on her colorful tennis shoes. They were bright pink with purple. Even the swirl of colors couldn’t ease my stupor.

“I thought...” She began before exhaling. “...how are you?”

“I-I’m...” I wasn’t sure what I was.

Abandoned.

Demeaned.

A fucking child grounded to this apartment while her friend was in danger.

A person who had opened her life to possibilities only to have it ripped away at the agonizing price of everything: my best friend, my company, and my freedom.

My head shook.

How had I been so stupid?

The reason that I couldn’t look up and face Lorna’s green-eyed stare was because I didn’t need to tell Lorna any of those things. She knew. She knew what I was. She knew and she’d helped. The strong, determined CEO of Sinful Threads was reduced to rubble, and she knew.

It hurt in a way that words couldn’t describe.

Standing there looking at me, Lorna was a witness to my misery.

That was what she was.

It was bad enough for me to experience the wreckage of what was my life—I didn’t want a witness. I shook my head again as I started to close the door.

“It isn’t just you,” she said, bringing my attention up to her pretty face as she reached out, blocking the closing of the door.

In that second, there was a flicker of something different. “What’s not just me?”

Lorna tilted her head. “May I come in...I-I won’t if you don’t want me to. I’ve just never been on lockdown with someone before. You never know how long it will last and the men are all inaccessible. It’s...so many emotions.”

“Lockdown?”

She nodded.

I took a step back, allowing her entry to my cell. As she crossed the threshold, I noticed that other than that Lorna had on shoes and I only had socks, we were dressed similarly—yoga pants and t-shirts. Apparently, there was no need for formal attire during a lockdown. “You’ve gone through this before?”

She continued walking until she came to the small table and pulled out a chair. Sitting, she looked up at me. “I know this is all new to you, but I warned you.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure you remember, but I mentioned it the first morning in the kitchen. I said that they would disappear for days on end. Sometimes it coincides with things we’re aware of, like this...” She gestured about. “Other times, they’re just gone.”

I sat across the table from her. In the window behind her was my reflection. My emotions were broadcast over my face, written in tear tracks, swollen eyes, and splotches. “I can’t believe he did it. He didn’t even have the balls to tell me. He left me. I thought I was going. This is my best friend who’s in trouble.”

Lorna’s head shook. “Did he tell you that you were going?”

“Yes...” I thought about it. “I think. He insinuated.” My palm slapped the table with less force than I would have hours earlier. “Fuck, I don’t know. I thought I was. Maybe it was just me. He kept saying things like that they were taking care of it. He said he had to talk to Reid, and the plane was about ready. He said he loved me.” With my elbows on the table, I lowered my head to my hands. “I don’t feel loved. I feel abandoned. I feel...”

“Like a child being locked in her room,” Lorna said, completing my sentence.

I looked up to her emerald stare. “Yes.” My lower lip began to tremble as salty tears burned my sore eyes. “I-I can’t do this.”

She reached over to take my hand.

Tentatively, I relinquished it to her, but quickly took it back. “I-I also don’t know if I can trust you.” My filter was gone. “I think he sent you to me, like you’re here to smooth this over for him. Sterling doesn’t deserve for you to do that. He screwed up. My friend’s life and her baby are at stake.”

She nodded. “I guess it may look like that, but that’s not why I’m here. My intentions were what I said—I’m glad you’re here.”

I exhaled, wanting to believe her.

“Five days.”

“What?” I asked.

“Five days was the longest. I had no communication with any of them. This place was as secure as it is now. We’re always well-stocked on food. Shit, if I’d made a dinner for the three of them, I could live on it, three meals a day for five days. But the isolation and uncertainty were unbearable. I’ve seen some things no one should see, but the unknown is the worst.”

I nodded, currently feeling the fear and total isolation she was describing. “Sterling said he’d call, but he hasn’t.”

“Reid and I had a serious knock-down, drag-out when they got home that first time. He was oblivious, not seeing my point of view. It was all about safety and protection.”

My stomach turned. “Do you know how sick I am of hearing those words?”

A small smile skirted across her lips. “I have an idea.” Lorna went on with her story. “Well, I told him that I loved him, and if he loved me at all, he’d never put me through that again. I needed communication.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. “That was right after we were married. This life was new to me. I swear, I thought I was a caged animal. I spent five days afraid he was dead or Patrick or Sparrow or all of them. I worried that if that were true, I’d never get out.”

“But you have the handprint thing, right?”

“Yes, but they can change it, making it so no one but them can get up and down. I mean, what if something happened to them and I’d been trapped?”

“So now?”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t make it work either. Lockdown means that these two floors and our apartment level are the only accessible floors. No garage and no bat cave.”

“Bat cave?” I asked.

“It’s where Reid spends most of his time. When he’s gone from here, I know things are bad. He usually runs things from within while Sparrow and Patrick take to the streets.”

“Where is he now?”

“I really don’t know. I’m telling myself he’s on two—the bat cave.” She pulled her phone from a pocket on the side of her pants and laid it on the table. “He promised me a call or text message. That’s what we do now. Even if he’s on two, if the world is in emergency or lockdown, I may not see him for days.”

I sighed. “Lorna, I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’d tell you that you get used to it. I could say that these otherwise considerate men are overprotective assholes and you get used to it, but honestly, it isn’t that easy.”

Overprotective assholes.

That made the tips of my lips move upward until they fell again. “My friend is...missing.”

“I didn’t know for sure. Reid only told me it had to do with Boulder. I know that’s where you’re from.”

I swallowed the tears forming. “Her name is Louisa. We’ve been friends since high school...” For the next hour or more I rambled on, telling Lorna everything about Louisa—high school, college, and Sinful Threads. I talked about her family, her parents and sister. I told her about Jason and how they’d met. I even included how since Sterling came barreling into my life, I had been an awful friend. And how that now, I believe it’s because of me that she’d been taken.

After I was done, Lorna got up and came to my chair. “I’d like to hug you.”

I nodded, standing as I let my new friend give me support for my dear one.

“Hey,” she said after taking a step back, “I looked up your company after I learned what you did. Damn, you guys are good.”

“Thank you. It’s been our baby, both of ours.”

We were still standing.

“Goodness, it’s nearly one in the morning,” Lorna said, “but would you like to go to the kitchen and get something?”

I narrowed my gaze. “That sounds like Sterling.”

She lifted her hands. “No, it’s me. I’ve been pissed since Reid informed me of the lockdown. I’d love a glass of wine. Maybe some cheese and fruit.”

I was tired, but the crying and worrying had me too wound up to sleep.

“Do you have a kitchen besides the one downstairs?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “I do. Would you like to visit?”

“And get out of these two floors, hell yes.”

“I’m not sure if—” She stopped and squared her shoulders. “Fuck them. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t much of a rebellion, but I’d take it. “Let me grab my phone. I’m hoping for a call.”