The sound of the bolt turning snapped Mark’s attention to the door.
He tensed, blood dripping slowly from his wrists where he’d been grinding against the restraints. Ronnie sat beside him, pale and trembling but alert now, her fingers twitching behind her back as if counting down in her head—like she always did when overwhelmed.
The door opened.
Kyle stepped inside, holding something in his hand—thin leather gloves—and he wore a look of calm calculation that put Mark on edge.
“Time for some alone time,” Kyle said smoothly, stepping toward Ronnie.
“No!” Mark barked, lunging forward in the chair, the plastic ties biting deeper into his flesh. “Don’t touch her!”
Kyle ignored him, grabbing Ronnie by the arm. She stiffened, flinching at his grip, but said nothing as he unfastened her rest
