It was dank, dark, and utterly claustrophobic. An irregular pattering was echoing through the basement, water dripping from an unseen pipe overhead. The floor was somehow even colder than the damp air, and it sapped the heat from Jane’s legs. She whimpered, the only sound she could make from beneath the gag.

Tears were streaming down her eyes, wetting the cloth that had been stuffed into her mouth. It kept it in a constant state of dryness, giving her the feeling of constantly choking on something in her throat.

The voice had returned, with its scathing insults and sarcastic remarks, and Jane found that she did not have the will to ignore it any longer.

She knew this was coming, it said. She’d even imagined something like this would happen. She knew Beatrice was cunning, and dangerous, and likely to discover her little espionage project at some point. So why was she tied up in a basement, kneeling and shaking from cold?

The only source of light in the subterranean room was a tiny light bulb, hanging by a chain from the ceiling. Footsteps from the floor above caused it to sway dizzyingly. The shadows swayed in tandem with the light, further disorienting Jane.

Even with her limbs numb from the constriction and the low temperature, she knew that Beatrice and Joss had taken her phone, and most likely anything else in her pockets. There would be no calling for help, or breaking her way out.

Breaking her way out? The voice scoffed. She wasn’t an action movie hero. She was just a dumb teenage girl that fell too far down a rabbit hole, and now she was paying for it. She’d poked the bear and now it was fighting back.

A stupid, dumb, anxious teenage girl. For all she knew, they could be seriously hurting Vicky right now, and it would be all Jane’s fault. She couldn’t bear the image of Victoria tied up in the same way she was.

She’d endangered her only friend, lied constantly to her own mother, and fallen for a boy that she’d been lying to this entire time.

God, she thought. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been with Ryder.

He had seemed so trusting to her, with his honest smile, and the vulnerability he had chosen to show Jane. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine them together again, stretched out in the grass, thin clouds drifting in the sky above them.

More tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling against the already over saturated gag.

The squeal of the door’s hinges at the top of the staircase startled her, and she squinted as a shaft of light fell into the basement from above. The dripping of water sped up as the movement disturbed its flow.

Joss entered first, his bulky frame nearly blotting out the light from outside. Beatrice was following close behind, with an expression of predatory amusement adorning her face. Her skirt swished as she descended the steps, one hand wrapped around the handle of a suitcase, and the other holding Jane’s laptop bag.

The mere sight of the suitcase unnerved Jane. Her imagination jumped to conclusion after conclusion, fueled by the various movie scenes she had seen.

What could possibly be in that? Various implements of torture? A blow torch? Alien brain worms?

Joss pulled something from the darkest corner of the room, the screeching of metal on concrete joltingly loud in the enclosed space of the basement. Jane saw, as he brought it beneath the lone bulb, that it was a rusty chair.

She was squirming now, though she could barely move. The restraints dug into her ankles and her wrists. The pain would have been unbearable if her limbs hadn’t lost their sensation.

Joss approached her kneeling form on the ground, a look of grim determination on his face. Jane emitted a panicked yelp from behind the gag, eyes wide. She didn’t want him anywhere near her.

Beatrice watched as Joss picked Jane up with nearly no effort at all, and deposited her in the seat with a metallic creak. Her expression remained much the same, like that of a cat toying with its prey.

“You know, you always gave me the creeps,” Beatrice said. She circled around Jane in the chair, one perfectly manicured finger tracing over her shoulder. Jane shuddered at the contact.

Her heart was pounding, perhaps harder than it ever had before. Images of what Beatrice and Joss were going to do to her flashed through her mind, a rush of terror that made her throat tighten.

She tried to speak through the gag, but it had taken any moisture from her tongue, and she only succeeded in making a choking sound. Delicately, Beatrice plucked the cloth from Jane’s mouth.

More choking followed as Jane tried her best to get her dessicated tongue to work. It felt as if her mouth had been filled with sand.

“You- you don’t want to do this,” Jane said, her voice a mere rasp, accentuated by an echo in the claustrophobic basement.

Joss crossed his arms, staring down at her. Beatrice lay both her palms across Jane’s shoulders, her face next to Jane’s.

“Really? Because it sure feels like I do,” said Beatrice.

Jane tried to crane her neck to the side, doing her best to look at Beatrice. She could only make out the tip of her chin and a lock of dark hair.

“What is it that you think I know, anyway?”

Beatrice’s palms squeezed the flesh above Jane’s collarbones, eliciting a startled gasp from the bound girl. “It’s obvious that you know a lot about the business, and my parent- I mean, what we do. I’m just gonna find out how much of that business you know. Then I’ll hand you over to the big dude on top. He’ll decide what to do with you.”

Though it was barely visible in the dark of the room, Jane found her eyes drawn to the suitcase as it lay on its side, just out of Joss’s reach. Beatrice squeezed again, causing Jane to wince.

Joss stooped and unzipped Jane’s laptop bag, pulling the rectangular computer from within.

“You’re gonna tell me the password of that thing, or else,” Beatrice whispered.

Jane’s lips pressed together, eyes glued to her laptop. It held nearly every bit of evidence on the syndicate she had managed to dig up, as well as personal notes and observations about Watson. If they got inside, Jane wouldn’t be the only one done for.

“I don’t know the password-” Jane was cut off as Beatrice smacked the side of her head. An off-tone ringing filled her ears.

“Don’t lie to me again,” said Beatrice.

A whimper escaped Jane’s lips before she could stop it. She hung her head as far as the restrains would allow, her hair obscuring her face. Despite the cold of the air, sweat beaded on her skin.

Jane had known this was coming, and so she had installed a failsafe on her laptop. A password that, when entered, would format the data drives. The final nuclear option for her.

The problem, of course, would mean that Jane would have nothing left to use against the Jackson syndicate. Any evidence she had recovered and documented would be erased. She would be out of ammunition, and they were still coming after her.

“Not gonna talk, huh?” Beatrice’s torso was visible through the veil of Jane’s red hair.

Joss stooped once more and handed Beatrice the case. With a click, it opened, revealing-

The squeal of the door’s hinges erupted from above once more, another shaft of light spilling down the steps. The trio looked up. A familiar red jacket descended into Jane’s view, and her breath caught.

Ryder.

Jane quieted, her already numb legs going completely dead.

What was he doing here?

Beatrice looked up, closing the case once more. Her expression was that of pleasant surprise. “Ryd? How did you find… never mind. Doesn’t matter. You’re late.”

Ryder smoothed his hair back as he glanced over the scene, Jane’s tear-streaked face, Joss cracking his knuckles, and Beatrice gloating like a particularly smug feline. “You didn’t tell me you were going to do this.”

Some of the smugness faded from Beatrice’s face. “We caught her red-handed. She was the one who broke into the school a few days ago. I even caught her listening in on our conversations! For all we know, her parents are the mole.”

Jane’s eyes were flitting erratically between the two as she tried to come up with a plan that would get her out of this situation. Joss seemed to notice this, and gave her ankle a kick. The vibration traveled through the chair and into Jane’s body, rattling her teeth.

“Don’t try anything,” he growled.

Ryder was glaring daggers at Joss. “You don’t try anything.”

Joss turned slowly, sizing him up. He unfolded his arms as his hands balled into fists. “Or what?”

The air had grown abruptly tense as the two boys stared each-other down. Beatrice seemed to find it incredibly entertaining.

“Yeah, Ryd, or what? You stopped me from looking into this freak-” she pointing at Jane, “- and now you’re defending her? What’s going on? In fact, how did you even know we had her? I haven’t told your dad yet.”

Ryder hadn’t broken eye contact with Joss, and his expression was quickly turning to one of impending violence.

Jane had to do something, and quick. She struggled against her bonds, searching for even the slightest slack that she could slip through.

Joss, distracted by her sudden motion, glanced at Jane. That was the opening Ryder had been waiting for, and he struck.

In the quiet of the basement, the sound of Ryder’s fist striking Joss’s fleshy cheek was like a shock wave, and Beatrice instinctually stepped back as her goon collapsed to the floor. The suitcase clattered from her hands in much the same manner.

“What are you doing?!” All the cool had gone from Beatrice’s voice. This situation was spinning out of her control, and quickly. She took another step back, eyes wide.

Ryder ignored her and rushed to Jane, his fingers easily undoing the knots that she had struggled against so much.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face inches from hers. For a second, it seemed like he would kiss her.

Jane stared into his eyes, too shocked to speak. What was happening?

Beatrice saw her opportunity and took it, sprinting for the door. Ryder looked back at her and cursed, his hands momentarily fumbling with the rope around Jane’s ankle.

There was no time to think. Jane had only a moment to determine what to do, only a moment to make sense of everything that had just happened. Mere seconds to decide on where his loyalties may lie.

She chose to trust her gut, and turned to Ryder.

“Go!” Jane shouted. “Stop her from calling for help. Leave the rest to me.”

Ryder spent a single, seemingly eternal second looking into Jane’s eyes. There was a decision there, in his expression. A decision to trust her. To trust the girl that had spied on him, stolen from him, and lied to him. A decision to forgive her for violating his privacy so thoroughly, before they’d met.

And then he ran, chasing after Beatrice.