“Why did I agree to this again?”

Casper finishes tying the knot binding my wrists. “Because you trust me.”

I roll my eyes, not so sure about that at the moment.

He carefully places a makeshift gag—Viviana’s bathrobe tie—in my mouth, securing it at the back of my head. “This has to feel real. The fear. The confusion. The anxiety. All the things you would feel if you were in real danger.”

I breath in through my nose. His muscular arms are caged around my head, his face directly in front of mine. His brow is knotted, concentrated on the task at hand. Suddenly his eyes lock on mine, and I lose myself in those intense green orbs.

What happens if you don’t want to escape your attacker?

“You ready for this?” he asks, reaching for the dark canvas drawstring bag. I flinch at the sight of it. That thing is supposed to go over my head.

Earlier he broke down the plan for this exercise. I know what I’m supposed to do. The actual act of carrying it out makes me nervous though, and I’m not sure why. I’m not claustrophobic. Not afraid of the dark either. My “attacker” is Casper. I don’t know why the binds around my wrists feel too tight, or why I’m shaky inside. It’s all pretend, I remind myself. All make believe.

As if he’s reading my thoughts, Casper says, “Give into the fear. If this were really happening, you’d be trying to process thousands of different thoughts and emotions all at once. It’s uncomfortable, but if you deal with the fear now, it will make your mind that much stronger and prepared to deal with the real thing.”

He opens the bag, hovering it just above my head. “Here we go,” he says, sliding it down. Everything goes dark. Then, as planned, I feel him guiding me. He told me he would choose a tightly confined space where I’d be kept for five minutes, but he doesn’t want to reveal the exact location until after we’re done. It could be a small closet inside the house. The trunk of a car. A storage container. I don’t know, and the point is to not know, exactly as if this were really happening.

“I’m going to carry you, so that you don’t know where you’re going,” he says, lifting me in one quick swoop. One arm is under my knees, the other he wraps around my waist, pressing the side of my body against his chest. Good thing he can’t see my face. If he could, he’d see how much I’m freaking out. I have to take extra breaths inside this damn bag every time I feel his muscles contract against me.

Eventually, he sets me down, or rather lies me down, inside some type of metal container. I hear a door shut above my face, a lock clicking just outside of it. Panic immediately settles over me. It’s hard enough to breathe as it is; I don’t know how long I can last inside this bag with the gag in my mouth.

Five minutes.

He promised that’s all it would be, but he also said it would feel longer. Now I understand why. I can hear every inhale and exhale. After a while, I begin to hear the sound of my own heartbeat. I try not to think about the limited supply of oxygen. Getting upset will only make me go through it faster.

Just stay calm.

How long has it been? Two minutes? Three?

God, it already feels like forever.

I can’t help but wonder if the real killer has something like this planned. I keep thinking about what it’s like to die. I wonder what it will feel like when my heart stops beating, when I can no longer see or feel things, when I am no longer conscious.

When I am simply…gone.

A strange, morbid thing for someone my age to contemplate, but lately, all of my thoughts seem to revolve around death. In this family, it’s hard to think of anything else.

The five minutes has to be up by now.

I breathe in deeper than before, but the air doesn’t fill up my chest. I hate this. I hate everything about this. I have no control, not even over my ability to take a full breath. I’m being made to feel totally helpless.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?

Casper wants me to know what it’s like to be stripped of power. Because for some Godforsaken reason that’s eluding me at the moment, it’s supposed to help prepare me for the real thing.

Finally, finally, the lock clicks, and the door opens. Casper lifts me out of the container, then sets me on the ground.

“I’m going to spin you around,” he says, and the familiarity of his voice soothes me in a way it probably shouldn’t. It reminds me that this is just an exercise, lessening the weight of the fear. Whether it’s good or bad, I’m grateful.

He pushes my arm, pulling the other, spinning me around, and gaining momentum as I go—all an attempt to leave me dazed and confused.

After I lift the bag, don’t waste any time. Look for me. Then attack, attack, attack!

Those were my instructions.

The thing is, this whole spinning thing is working to his advantage a little too well. I’m going to fall flat on my face from the dizziness, and then how am I supposed to attack him?

He lifts the bag.

Sunlight blinds my eyes. I blink and squint from being shrouded in darkness.

Don’t waste time. Look for me.

We’re standing on the driveway behind the house. Planting my feet firmly against the cement, I try to keep my balance as I look for Casper.

There!

He’s standing behind me, holding up the padded defense shield he found in the garage. I lunge, striking my bound hands against the pad, hitting it over and over. Each blow contains more force than I expected. It seems there is one small benefit to fear: adrenaline.

“Good,” Casper says. “Again.”

He drops the bag over my head, spinning me around, for what appears to be round two.

Ugh, sweet lord, I’m going to be sick.

The bag flies away. Once again, I’m blinded by the sunlight.

“Don’t think—just attack,” Casper instructs me.

Following the sound of his voice, I find him in the lawn to my right. I swing my arms against his shield like I’m swinging Thor’s hammer, laying into that pad as if Casper is the real deal.

“Now kick,” he says, backing up.

I follow his lead, kicking the pad as hard as I possibly can. I kick it so hard my feet begin to throb.

“Good job, Mila.” He tosses the shield aside. “You did great.” He undoes my gag.

“Thanks.”

“How was it?”

“Not as awful as I thought it would be. The waiting was the worst part.”

He nods, untying my wrists. “Understandable.”

“Where was I, by the way?”

He nods to the storage shed. “In one of Hugo’s utility containers. I had to clear his tools out first, before putting you inside.”

Huh. I never would’ve guessed.

The ties fall away from my wrists, setting me free. “How did Vivvy and Leo handle this?” I ask, curious.

“Leo takes everything in stride, but it was difficult for Viv. This exercise strips your power, and she has trouble with submission. It forces you to go into those dark places you’re avoiding. Viv uses her power as a crutch. That’s why she was so quick to pull a gun on those creeps at the pub. When she gets scared, she’s falls back on what makes her feel powerful.”

I rub the tender spots on my wrists. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not always, but you can’t desensitize yourself if you don’t live inside your fear for a while.”

Desensitize. There’s that word again. “Our trainer, Sergio, mentioned something about that.” I snort back a laugh, remembering his ludicrous suggestion. “He also requested I find someone I trust to choke me for the same purpose. I mean, the guy’s a good trainer, but that’s crazy, right?”

Casper looks into my eyes, his face remaining serious. “Not at all. I’d be happy to do it for you, if you want me to.”

I swallow, wondering what the hell I just got myself into. “Um…I don’t know.” I honestly didn’t believe this was really a thing.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I mean, I guess so. But—”

“You can’t let some dumbass accidentally choke you to death because they don’t know what they’re doing. I’d feel better if you just let me do it.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me toward the front door. “Come on, let’s do it now. You’re already pumped on adrenaline and endorphins. Might as well get this out of the way while you’re in the moment.”

Holy Mother of God.

I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t even remember agreeing to it.

Casper all but pushes me inside the house. I want to kick my heels into the floor, and stop him from taking me a step further, but I simply let him lead me into this twisted thing we’re about to do, waiting for him to tell me he’s just pulling my leg.

But the gotcha I’m waiting for never comes.

Inside the living room, I step way, way back from him, crossing my stiff arms over my chest. I stare at those ginormous hands of his, knowing he wants to put them around my neck, and gulp. No way am I letting him choke me with those.

He laughs. “You’re overreacting. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? People die this way.”

“Good grief, you’re not going to die. You might feel a little lightheaded, but other than that you’ll be fine.”

I’m trembling as I stand in front of him. Should I go along with this? So far, Casper has been the one person I’ve felt completely capable of trusting. If he really thinks I should do this, maybe I should listen.

“We can do this one of two ways,” he says, his voice slow and reassuring. “Tell me which you’re more comfortable with. I can do what’s called the rear naked choke. You may have seen it in wrestling. I’d be standing behind you, my arm cradled around your neck. It works a lot faster. Since you’re scared, it might be the better choice. Or I can go the traditional route, which would probably be the way it would happen in real life. Your attacker will want to watch you die, especially if they have a sick fascination with killing.”

I take a deep breath in through my nose. “If we’re doing this, no shortcuts. I want to face you.”

Casper nods. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

This is Casper. He’s spent the last few months keeping me alive. If it has to be anyone, I want it to be him.

I close my eyes, preparing myself.

“Keep them open,” he says, steering me directly in front of him. “I want you to look into my eyes, so you’ll know there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I do as he says, opening my eyes. Face-to-face, his gaze locks with mine like a magnetic force. I couldn’t look away if I tried.

His hands travel up to my neck. I suck in a breath, freezing into place as his long fingers latch around my throat, gently pressing. And then pressing harder. I feel my oxygen get cut off, and I reach up and grab hold of his hands.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly. “I’ve got you.”

My nails dig into the sides of his palms. I don’t let go. Nor do I look away. The need for air is powerful, but his hold is stronger. I feel like I’m slipping into a daze, lost in Casper’s hypnotic stare.

Casper makes me believe I can trust him, speaking the words through his eyes. It’s strange, feeling fear while simultaneously feeling protected. As long as he’s leading the way, I’m willing to go anywhere. Even to my own grave.

Little by little, the rest of the world falls away. Tiny white dots speckle across my vision. The background blurs, and then Casper fades too. Casper’s hands fall away from my neck. He catches me before I hit the ground. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

The room is spinning, and it feels like my brain is floating inside my skull, bobbing back and forth in there. My senses quickly come back. So does an overwhelming nausea. I press my palm to my lips, bile rising in the back of my throat.

“Are you okay?” Casper gently rubs my back. “Do you need me to get you a bucket?”

Swallowing hurts. I cough, the inside of my throat tight and achy. “I’m okay,” I say, touching the front of my neck. It sort of feels caved in.

“That soreness you’re feeling won’t last long.”

I cough again, slowly coming around. “That was…intense. I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

“If the attacker is skilled enough, it can happen even faster. Between two to six seconds.”

The disturbing thought causes my stomach to churn faster, and I fight the urge to throw up. Casper guides me to the sofa. I sit, and breathe in as deeply as possible, never so grateful for air in my life.

Sitting beside me, Casper lightly touches the hollow of my throat. My skin tingles as he traces it with his fingertips. “Hopefully you never have to experience the real thing.” He draws his hand back, clearing his throat. “Did your trainer teach you ways to get out of a chokehold?”

I nod.

For someone of Casper’s build, an elbow across the arm and a palm to the nose would never be enough though. Not to knock him down.

“I’m glad that we did this,” I say, surprised by my own admission. “The whole session, I mean. I think I needed to know what it’s like to feel helpless.”

Casper clenches his jaw. “You’re not helpless, Mila. If you’re taken, you need to stay strong here.” He presses his finger against my forehead. “He’ll enjoy seeing you weak. Taking you down. Making you think you’re less than nothing. But if you stay strong of mind, you might stand a chance. You could beat him at his own game.”

He says the word if, but it sounds like a when. Neither of us will admit it because neither of us want it to be true, but we both know we’re waiting for when.

“What if I can’t be protected?” I say, my voice losing all its warmth. “What is my life is cursed and I’m meant to die?”

“Don’t say things like that. You’re not meant to die.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. You’re going to live and do all of the amazing things life has to offer. If you want to create beautiful art, you’ll do that. If you want to have babies, you’ll have them. If you want to climb mountains, you’ll climb them. Whatever you want to do, you’ll be able to do.”

His conviction spills over into me. He sounds so sure, so confident, and I hold onto it with everything that I have.