The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman)

Jason wanted nothing more than to work Anastasia's case, but now, his hands

were tied-orders were orders.

He'd been on the verge of quitting, yet this case made him change his mind.

After grabbing some late-night takeout with Mr. Taylor, they said their goodbyes

outside the neon-lit diner. Mr. Taylor slid into a black SUV, pulled out his phone as

soon as the door shut, and spoke in a low voice, "It's handled-Jason will report

to Einsberg tomorrow morning..."

Jason lingered at the curb, finishing off his cigarette before flicking it aside. By the

time he got home, it was already the middle of the night.

He unlocked the door quietly and found Monica asleep on the couch-again. She

always tried to wait up for him, but most nights, sleep won out.

He tiptoed over, intending to scoop her up and take her to bed, but as soon as he

bent down, Monica stirred.

The first thing she asked was, "Did you catch the bastard who set up Anastasia?"

What happened to Anastasia had Monica furious-if she could, she'd hunt down

the culprit herself.

Jason sat next to her. "No. And starting tomorrow, I'm off the case. Herman pulled

it."

"He can't just do that! Ana's the victim-how can he just walk away?" Monica's

voice trembled with anger. "He said he'd protect her. Look at her now. If he'd done

his job, she wouldn't have stormed out of that dinner, she wouldn't have been

kidnapped, none of this would've happened."

"Monica, breathe." Jason tried to calm her down. "No one wanted this. I went to

Southridge Estates earlier-Ana's awake, but she's not herself. She isn't seeing

anyone."

Monica's eyes brimmed with tears. Thinking about what Ana had been through

was almost too much.

"Jason... those photos online... Do you think Ana..." Monica's voice trailed off;

she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

The pictures-God, those awful pictures-told a grim story. Four men. Ana,

beautiful and broken. Those images were everywhere now.

They'd been leaked straight from the kidnappers' phones and splashed all over

social media.

Suddenly, Jason's face changed. "Wait-the timing on those photos. They were

posted after Ana was found, and by then, those guys were already dead. So who

uploaded them?"

Monica blinked, confused. "Didn't you say they scheduled the posts?"

"Yeah, but why bother scheduling? Why not just post them right away?" Jason's

mind was racing. "Maybe they were holding onto them for leverage, waiting on a

last payment. Only, they never got it."

Someone else was calling the shots-Jason was sure of it.

The photos had been set to

auto-post an hour after Ana was

found. That left enough time for the

real mastermind to finish

business-and silence any loose

ends.

Those four never saw it coming.

It was just a theory, but Jason felt it in his gut.

He could get obsessive when he was piecing things together. Monica was used to

it by now.

"But the damage is done," Monica

whispered. "Those photos... Ana's

never going to be the same. I don't

know how she'll ever come back

from this."

Sometimes, life knocks you down so hard, only you can pull yourself out.

"Try to get some rest," Jason said

gently. He didn't want Monica

digging any deeper-she was toonoveldrama

impulsive, and he was afraid she'd

get herself in trouble.

But Monica couldn't sleep. Not when Ana was hurting.

Southridge Estates was silent.

Anastasia sat alone in her room, wrapped in darkness. She hadn't bothered with

the lights.

She stared blankly out the window, watched the trees move in the wind. The

memories swirled and crashed through her head-loud, jumbled, relentless.

She could still hear the clicks of the camera shutter. And a voice-someone

urging her to run, not to look back.

She couldn't tell what was real and what was just her mind playing tricks.

How could Rowan's voice have been in that cave?

She didn't know about the rumors outside. She didn't know the kidnappers were

dead.

Then she heard footsteps in the hallway. Herman.

"Honey, I'm coming in."

Anastasia froze, every muscle tense. She knew she couldn't avoid Herman

forever.

She clutched the blanket tighter, voice raw and pleading. "...Don't turn on the

light."