Liam's wrists ached, and his fingers were numb by the time he had managed to scoot himself three-quarters of the way to the phone. Damon was showering, his revulsion at being splashed with Liam's vomit apparently overcoming his caution. When the door to the bathroom opened, Damon emerged in a fresh set of clothing with his hair down his neck and over his forehead.

He stared at Liam, looking confused for a second, but then seeing his proximity to the phone, Damon's entire expression hardened. "What are you doing?"

"I just – – my mom – – she worries."

“You were going to call that alpha, weren't you? The one who thinks he can touch you."

"My mom." Liam insisted. In his sick, twisted and perverted way, Damon had been "taking care of Liam." But Liam knew how quickly Damon's moods could shift, and now, he had no way to defend himself. He couldn't let Damon lose control of his temper. Not until Liam had a chance, any chance of getting help.

"Your mother?"

"I call her every Saturday. She needs to know I'm okay, or she may call the authorities, and that would put you at risk."

Damon took a slow breath and ran his sleeve over his forehead. "Of course, your mother. You would be worried about her."

Liam was worried about himself, but if it was enough to talk Damon down, he could go with that. "I'm very worried. You know she has a heart condition." She had high blood pressure, but it was a heart condition, sort of. Anything to stay on Damon's good side. "Please, I can't feel my fingers very well, and I'm afraid to hurt my hands. You know I do surgery."

"You won't need to work when we're together. I have a home in the mountains, and I'll be able to do everything for you."

Liam thought he had been scared before, but hearing this, it seemed as though his airway was being squeezed, and he only had the narrowest part to breathe through.

He had to get out of here.

"But if I can't use my hands, I can't touch you," Liam said.

"Promise me you'll be good. When I had you before, you scratched me and tried to run."

What was Damon talking about? Liam glanced down at the necklace. Had Damon kidnapped other omegas, assuming somehow they were Liam? "Is that where you got this necklace?" Liam asked.

"You cried and said it was your sister. I didn't know you had a sister."

Whose locket was this? How many other omegas had Damon kidnapped and taken up to his mountain house? And where were they now?

Dead?

"Promise me you'll be good. I don't want to have to hurt you, like I had to hurt you before."

"You won't."

Damon walked back to his duffel bag and began to rifle through it. When he returned, he held a pair of heavy metal scissors in his right hand. "I'm going to cut these from your wrists, and I need you to stay still."

Liam nodded. His legs were still going to stay tied to the chair, but with his hands free, as long as Damon fell asleep or turned his back or something, Liam would stand a chance at escaping. Maybe he could grab the phone and knock Damon on the side of the head. He wasn't a fighter, but this was his life, that he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Damon walked behind Liam and took hold of Liam's wrists. The ties really had grown too tight, and Liam knew that if he did not consider circulation soon, he would risk damage. The cold metal pushed into his skin as Damon slipped the points of the scissors on either side of the zip tie.

Snip. Liam wiggled his fingers. Pins and needles ran up and down his hand as the blood returned.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Damon said, running his fingers up Liam's arm, over the shirt Damon had dressed him in, and then tracing along his collarbone.

Liam shut his eyes and just focused on breathing. If he thought about what Damon was doing, he panicked, and then Damon would hurt him.

Damon wanted to hurt him, no matter what he said to the contrary. His expression held a sick fascination whenever he was close enough for Liam to see it.

"That feels good," Liam said. "Can you cut the other one? Please?”

Someone pounded three times on the door. "Room service!"

Fuck.

The voice, muffled through the door, sounded vaguely familiar.

"I didn't order room service!" Damon shouted back.

"Complimentary champagne."

"Help!" Liam shouted at the top of his lungs. He tried to shout again, but Damon's hands were around his neck, squeezing. Liam lashed out with his free arm, but the alpha was behind him, and with only one arm free Liam couldn’t do more than flail.

Spots flowered in Liam's vision, white roses, and he couldn't breathe.

The door opened. The last thing Liam saw was Gunnar bursting through the door.