Late Night Munchies

Blake and Rosie get home loaded, hungry, still buzzing. Rosie orders food and steps into the shower. When she comes out, dripping, the door clicks shut behind her. Blake sits bound to a wooden chair in the middle of the room, rope biting his chest and wrists, a strip of cloth jammed between his teeth. His eyes are wide, flashing panic at her. The intruder steps from the shadows—tight black clothes, a mask, gloved hands. A second length of rope dangles from one fist. Rosie freezes, water still running down her bare skin. The stranger grabs her wrist, spins her, forces her onto the floor in front of Blake. Rope loops around her elbows, then her ankles, cinching tight. A fresh gag—another strip of cloth—is shoved between her lips and knotted hard at the back of her head. Blake strains, chair legs scraping the floor. Rosie twists, testing the knots, breath coming sharp through her nose. The intruder rolls a heavy steel cage out of the corner, drags it between them, and snaps the padlock shut on the empty frame like a warning. Outside the window, headlights sweep past, then fade. Inside, the only sound is rope creaking and three people breathing hard.