Jason let out an irritated sigh, shifting against the ropes that bound him to the chair. His muscles ached, his head throbbed from whatever knockout gas they’d used, and to top it all off, he was stuck in a pitch-black room, tied back-to-back with you.

Perfect.

"I told you not to go in that house," he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance.

He could practically feel your stubborn silence.

Of course, you hadn’t listened. You never listened. Instead of waiting for backup, you’d rushed in alone, and because Jason wasn’t about to let you get yourself killed, he’d gone in after you. And now? Now this had happened.

Captured. Drugged. Tied up like a couple of amateurs.

Jason tested the ropes, flexing his wrists slightly. Tight, but not unbreakable.

"Hope you’ve got a plan, sweetheart," he grumbled, already working on an escape. "Because if I gotta save our asses, you’re never hearing the end of it."