Chapter 10

In the universe of minor daily irritations, such as a spider taking refuge in one's hair, some might react with a piercing scream. Juliette was of a different breed; hers was not the scream of trifles.

Hunter leapt up with such haste that he nearly toppled over, barely catching himself from a second collision with the ground. His voice choked as he attempted to shout for Juliette; terror was strangling him, making every breath a battle. He flung his bedroom door wide and bolted for the stairs, thoughts buzzing chaotically in his head.

A resounding crash shattered the silence; the cacophony of breaking glass followed. Juliette was causing a ruckus, items colliding and clattering as she tore through the house. Fumbling with his phone, Hunter hurtled down the stairs in panic.

"HUNTER!" The shrillness of Juliette's scream pierced through the chaos. "GET OUT! R—un!" Her voice abruptly cut off, usurped by a pained yelp, then haunting silence descended. Hunter was mid-way down to the lower floor now.

Defiance took hold; Hunter would not run away but towards Juliette. He anxiously pressed his phone to his ear. Why wasn't anyone answering? Seconds felt like hours as he awaited an operator's response.

"911, what is your emergency?" A voice finally came through.

Someone might be intruding my home," Hunter gasped out, reaching the foot of the staircase.

Juliette's distressed calls had emanated from the kitchen. Ignoring every bruise and obstacle, Hunter charged full tilt towards it.

"Remain where you are. Can you give me your address?"

Logic dictated he should stay put, but Hunter defied it as he had seen done on countless screens before him, astounded by how even-tempered the operator sounded. "Eleven Staffor—" But reaching the kitchen threshold, words abandoned him. His blood turned to ice.

Yes, an intruder loomed ominously in his home - a shadow dressed head-to-toe in black with a menacing ski mask. His knife pressed against Juliette's throat while one hand gripped her mouth viciously.

"Hang up," came a whisper laden with danger from beneath the mask. The stranger tugged at Juliette's head mercilessly as she let out muffled sounds of pain. "Now."

Despite its faintness, Hunter recognized that voice instantly. With trembling hands and ragged breaths, he composed himself enough to speak plainly.

"False alarm—actually—it was just our housekeeper," he managed to say convincingly.

"Should I send someone to check? A patrol car?"

"No," Hunter insisted with reluctance so forceful it pained him; hopefully it didn't sound too vehement over the phone. "I apologize for wasting your time tonight." He disconnected swiftly, heart pounding against his chest like a frantic drummer in battle.

"If you run, she dies. Open your mouth, she dies," Derick threatened, his identity unmistakable now. "Phone. Table. Now."

Compliance was Hunter's only option. He placed his phone down, retreating with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender to the man who had marred his family's life. The pulsing of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears nearly drowned out Derick's next chilling command.

"Kneel."

From behind Derick's grip, Juliette's voice broke through, desperate cries muffled into something that sounded like a plea for escape.

The knife in Derick's hand glinted as he pressed its blade ever so slightly against Juliette's exposed neck. "Silence," he growled, the point of the knife looming ominously near her life-giving artery.

Juliette's eyes conveyed an urgent message—flee while you still can.

But Hunter, eyes locked on hers, descended to his knees. Submission was his silent vow to her safety as he interlocked his fingers atop his head as instructed. That's when Derick nonchalantly discarded the knife onto a nearby chair and pulled out a handgun from a black backpack. As Juliette fought to stand, a cruel kick sent her tumbling back down. Biting back his anger, Hunter watched helplessly as a pair of socks slipped from Juliette's mouth onto the floor.

With deliberate slowness, Derick aimed the handgun directly at Hunter's unshaken facade—though on the inside, he grappled with the fear that gazing into its barrel evoked.

Defiantly, Juliette positioned herself before Hunter, her palm against the muzzle of the gun—a human shield pleading mercy for another's life.

Strangely enough, Hunter noticed it was perhaps the first instance he had ever heard Juliette use the word "please." The urge to plead with her to move was overwhelming.

A short, taunting laugh escaped Derick's lips. "Do as I command—can you do that?"

A nod from Juliette; she understood.

Hunter repositioned his intertwined fingers behind him; perspiration causing them to slip apart under tension.

Derick then handed Juliette handcuffs and motioned for her to secure Hunter's wrists with a nod of his gun—a gun that hadn't strayed from its mark despite Derick's casual demeanor that suggested this entire scene was nothing but tedium to him.

Juliette faced Hunter; fear and dismay etched across her face but determination steely in her gaze. As directed by Derick's indifferent tone, she circled behind Hunter to fasten the handcuffs.

Derick surveyed their handiwork disapprovingly and demanded more constraint.

Grappling with shock and an incomprehensible reality, Juliette tightened the cuffs—each click swiping at Hunter's composure as they clung unforgivingly tight around him. In a fleeting moment of connection, Hunter reached up to graze her hand with trembling fingertips just as a sharp sting from the steel bands shot through him amidst their silent communion of desperation and silent promises.

Juliette recoiled instinctively, words of apology rising in her throat. But Hunter's head shake halted them. His whispered "Don't" was so faint, it barely reached her ears. Her features twisted in an effort to hold back the tears, then smoothed into a mask of fierce resolve.

Then Derick delved into his backpack—a veritable Pandora's box—and withdrew a tattered brown leather dog collar. With indifference, he lobbed it toward Juliette and Hunter; it skidded to a halt against Juliette's trembling knees. Hunter caught a glimpse of the collar, his breath wavered, and he fought against the encroaching shadow threatening to overtake his view.

A mix of dread and disbelief etched itself onto Juliette's face as her fingers twisted into her hair, her mouth agape. She battled the surge of panic that threatened to overwhelm her with each labored breath.

Impatiently, Derick's voice cut through the tension. "Well, put it on him." Juliette's response was a vehement shake of her head as she struggled to control her weeping. "Please don't make me."

Derick's impatience boiled into anger. "I don't have all night!"

The fear that had twisted Juliette's features vanished momentarily, replaced by a flash of her characteristic spirited defiance as she stood firm against Derick's command. "You won't get my help in hurting him."

Unamused by her stand, Derick shoved off from where he leaned and approached with menacing intent—a lethal coldness emanating from the firearm as it touched Hunter's skin. "Just do it or else," the implication as clear as day when the gun's barrel met Hunter's head.

"NO!" Juliette acted on impulse, batting away the weapon from Hunter—a momentary pause followed as shock reverberated through Derick. As relief momentarily warmed Hunter's spirits at the sight of the grounded gun, Derick's brutal retort came swift—a heavy strike across Juliette's visage.

Derick unleashed a string of threats and began an ominous countdown—"One…TWO…"

Juliette's desperation peaked; she signaled frantically for Derick to halt and reached for the collar with unsteady hands.

Hunter couldn't sit in silence any longer – risking more than words could measure – he begged for Juliette's reprieve: "Don't hurt her." Her safety seemed to dangle on a thread as they awaited Derick's unspoken response.

Her hands trembled visibly as she offered him the collar—halted only by another tender whisper from Hunter: "It's okay." The attempted comfort was frail under the weight of what loomed ahead.

Unable to hold back any longer, Juliette stifled what would have been a cascade of sobs behind closed lips—inhaling deeply before letting calm wash over her one last time.

But patience wasn't within Derick's virtues; his irritation flared once again, snatching the collar to do his dark deed himself. With methodical precision borne from chilling indifference, he secured it around Hunter's neck—the padlock clicking shut with an ominous finality—an undeniable marker of their dire circumstance.

As Derick's task came to an end, he fastened a leash to the collar with a sharp tug to test its strength. The abrupt pull threw Hunter off balance, sending him tumbling backwards, hands bound behind him, struggling for breath as the collar tightened around his neck. Frantically, he tried to grasp at it, but his cuffed hands made it impossible.

In an instant, Juliette was at his side, seizing the leash and yanking back against Derick's force. Gasping for air, Hunter tried to regain his composure as Derick relented and Juliette fell back with him in her arms. She enveloped him in a protective embrace; he could only burrow his face into her shoulder in return, squeezing eyes shut to ward off tears.

Derick sported a mocking grin. "How touching." He dangled a thick blue ribbon before Juliette. "Gag him," he instructed coldly, motioning towards the socks discarded earlier by Juliette.

Hunter's breaths were shallow and quick - whether from panic or the lingering constriction of the collar was hard to tell. As Derick reclaimed the leash, Juliette held Hunter closer.

"Why?" she murmured, voice muffled by Hunter's neck. "He'll stay quiet."

"He was told not to speak already," Derick sneered back. "But he did."

Tears were welling up in Juliette's eyes as she stifled her sobs – undetectable to Derick but not to Hunter. "Please... don't make me do this."

Derick's irritation sliced through every syllable of his reply - "Just do it." Then came the cold prod of his weapon against Hunter's skin.

Tears escaped down Juliette's cheeks as she withdrew slightly from Hunter.

"It's okay," Hunter whispered, nodding subtly towards the socks despite everything.

Juliette dabbed at her tears and gathered herself, jaws clenched in contained fury. Their eyes met - a silent exchange - as she gently pried open his mouth.

Hunter was prepared to accept the gag without resistance; however, instinct prevailed when he felt them nearing his lips and he involuntarily turned away. If this act allowed Derick to harm Juliette unopposed, he'd never forgive himself.

She recoiled with a soft yelp that rang oddly for someone as fierce as Juliette – Hunter offered an apologetic look hoping she'd understand – it wasn't about her at all.

Facing Derick squarely now, although still averting from Juliette, Hunter exhaled defiance. "Do what you will with me—just leave her be." The fear shredding inside him didn't waver his steady tone.

"Hunter—stop talking!" Juliette cut in sharply; her gaze now carried a silent threat that spoke volumes more than words ever could – if Derick spared him, she herself looked ready to unleash hell.