Joe Keery Imagines

Ransomed-Joe Keery

Kidnapped Part 2

Joe's POV

I started to unlock the front door but stopped when I noticed it wasn't locked. I walked in and looked around the house.

"Y/N, are you home?" I called out. "You didn't lock the door, babe. Is everything okay?"

I walked into the kitchen and something felt off. A bowl of pasta was on the counter, untouched. Y/N's phone was next to the bowl. I unlocked it, my heart jumping into my throat when I saw a text that Y/N typed but never sent me.

To: Joe 🥰
Hey, baby. Got your note. Thanks for the pasta. Don't worry. I made it home safe and sound! I'll be waiting for you to wake me up. 😉 Maybe I'll be wearing that little red thing that you

The text wasn't finished. On the other side of the bowl was the note I wrote Y/N before I left tonight. I could see that something was written on the back. My hands started to shake as I turned the note over.

We have your wife. If you want her back, unharmed, you'll pay us $50 grand. Be prepared with the cash. We will contact you in the next 24 hours with a place to meet. If you go to the cops, you'll never see your sweet Mrs. Keery again.

The room started to spin as I read the note over and over again. They said I couldn't go to the police, but I had to. Of course I had to. They took her. They took Y/N. They took my Y/N.

With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1. . . I froze. I looked back at the note and read the last line.

If you go to the cops, you'll never see your sweet Mrs. Keery again.

Instead of calling who I should, I called Paul.

"What is wrong with you?" He answered sleepily. "It's almost midnight."

"Y/N's gone," I cut him off.

"Wait, what?" He asked, now sounding wide awake. "She left?"

"No!" I snapped at him. "She wouldn't leave me! It wasn't. . . It wasn't her choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"Someone took her, Paul."

"Wait, are you saying. . . Y/N was kidnapped? Are you serious?"

"Why would I make that up?" I scoffed.

"I'm sorry," Paul sighed. "Was there a break-in?"

"No," I said, my voice breaking. "Nothing was destroyed. Everything was normal. Except. . ."

"Except what?"

"I made her pasta before going back to work tonight. The bowl was warmed up but untouched. And then her phone was there. She had a message typed to me but it wasn't finished and it wasn't sent. And then. . . There was a note."

"A note?" Paul asked. "What was on the note?"

"Well, I originally wrote Y/N the note telling her about the pasta I made for her. But there was something else written on the other side."

"Something else?" I heard Paul sigh. "Look, you need to call the police, Joe. Tell them everything you're telling me."

"I can't," I stuttered.