Chapter 22: Winding the Toy

Sam’s room felt like a pressure cooker, the air thick with the hum of his computer fans and the weight of Madison’s last message from the night before: Tomorrow, things get interesting. Jake’s about to get the help he needs—from someone who knows how to wind him up just right. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying Jake’s agitated pacing, the deleted texts to Emily, the aggressive posts. Now, in the late afternoon light filtering through his curtains, he sat hunched over the screens, monitoring as ordered.

He’d texted Lila a quick good morning earlier, something light about her art idea to cling to that shred of normalcy, but her reply—Can’t stop sketching it. You’re my muse now—only amplified the guilt. How could he pretend at sweetness while diving deeper into this abyss? Madison’s “partnership” had him trapped, and today’s “interesting” developments loomed like a storm cloud.

On the feed, Jake slipped out of his apartment, hoodie pulled low, heading toward Madison’s neighborhood. Sam’s stomach knotted. Was this it? Another uninvited visit? He switched to the house cams—Emily’s room empty, the window slightly ajar as if inviting trouble. Sure enough, the exterior cam caught Jake approaching stealthily, glancing around before hoisting himself up to the window ledge. He pushed it open wider and climbed inside, just like he’d done before.

Sam’s breath caught. He watched in real-time as Jake landed softly in Emily’s room, his broad frame filling the space. Jake paused, scanning the familiar surroundings: the unmade bed, posters on the walls, a half-finished sketch on her desk. His face twisted with a mix of longing and rage. “Emily?” he called loudly. No answer. He rifled through her drawers, pulling out an old T-shirt of his she’d kept, clutching it like a talisman.

That’s when the door creaked open—not from the hallway, but as if someone had been waiting. Madison stepped in from the adjoining bathroom, her presence as calculated as a predator’s pounce. She was dressed in a thin silk gown that clung to her damp skin, a towel wrapped around her hair like she’d just stepped out of the shower. Water droplets trailed down her neck, and the gown’s fabric hinted at the curves beneath, provocative in its casual intimacy. But Sam knew better—Madison didn’t do accidents. She’d probably timed her shower, anticipating Jake’s move based on the feeds she’d made Sam monitor.

Jake whirled, startled, his fists clenching instinctively. “Madison? What the hell? Where’s Emily?”

Madison held up her hands in mock surrender, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Whoa, easy there, tiger. Emily’s not here. She’s out ... doing things with that nerd neighbor of hers again. You know, the weaselly kid? Sam, I think his name is. Left me to watch the house while she’s off playing games.”