“Right? I might be a monster, but I’m not a jerk.” Branford used the edge of his fork to break off a hunk of chicken. “A skin disorder, a facial scar, a handicap. No one wants to face a victim. What’s that about?”

“The fragility of mortality,” she said, staring at the plate. The chicken looked tender and juicy. “To acknowledge someone else’s impediment is to face our own weakness.”

Branford’s eyes narrowed. “Well said.”

The pulsed buzz of a cell phone somewhere on Branford’s body broke the tomb-like silence. She’d guessed they were underground, but the phone’s active signal meant not too far down. He ignored the alert.

“Try some chicken.”

She turned away. “Not hungry.”

“Haven’t I shown you that the food isn’t drugged?”

As long as he wanted her to eat, she’d starve. “Maybe I don’t want to have to sit in my own feces.”

“This is only temporary,” he said. “Follow my rules, and you’ll be free to move around. Eat.”

The fork came back her way. She denied entrance once again.

He set it on the plate. “I can force-feed you. I’m horrible with the IV, but I’ve done it before.”

His phone buzzed again. He reached into his pocket, looked down at the screen, slipped the phone back, continued.

“Or we can go liquid diet, which involves my hands on your throat, you gagging and spitting up baby formula. Does that sound better?”

Caitlin met his eyes. “You want me to eat, Branford, untie one of these hands.”

His phone chimed, a different tone altogether. Whatever the two church bells back-to-back meant, Branford’s demeanor changed.

“Shit.” He reached for his other pocket, came back with a folding knife, and opened the blade. “I don’t have time to play this game anymore.”

He walked behind her. She heard a crisp snap, then felt the restraint around her right wrist loosen. Another snap freed her arm at the elbow.

His lips brushed her left ear. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She heard the door close, the locks turn.

She reached behind her, found a thick plastic loop around her left wrist, maybe a zip tie, and another near her elbow. Both were looped around the straps keeping her body against the chair. The straps met at a metal ring near the small of her back, but there was no release mechanism. She followed the material to the underside of the chair, where the straps fed into a junction box that allowed excess material to pass through. She tugged on a hanging strap, tried pushing the tail back through the slot, but couldn’t find any give.

She dropped her head. This monster has this down to a science.