65. Not His Type

For the first time since being kidnapped, Riley felt fear. Real fear. It wasn’t the abstract, distant fear of what might happen, or the fear she’d managed to keep at bay with defiance and bravado. This was a cold, visceral terror that gripped her heart and sent a chill down her spine. Her breath hitched as River leaned down some more. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek, the cruel smile on his face making her pulse quicken. He suddenly seemed much larger than he initially looked, towering over her like that, covering her body. She pressed herself back against the wall, her body tense, as if trying to melt into the plaster and disappear. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in on her as her mind raced. She’d been so sure of herself, so convinced that she could outsmart him, that her father would come through, that somehow she’d escape this unscathed. But now, facing River’s cold determination, the reality of her situation crashed over her like a tidal wave. “You need to