Tilly

Once inside, he stared into the camera, taunting me—telling me he knew I was watching him, knew I was there somewhere. And he did. He pushed against the door, trying again to find the secret entrance to my hideaway. All the while, I waited, sitting with my back tight against the wall, my arms wrapped around my legs, waiting... waiting for when he found his way into the room.

His smell seeped through the gaps, making me hazy, and it was as though he was purposefully emitting his scent, trying to lure me out. And then what?

They’d taken my sister, maybe my mother.

Not me.

Another quick spray in the air would be enough to neutralise his scent—I hoped. Because it was repressive, enveloping me like a heavy blanket.

Oh, my god.

Just a little longer. My hands were hot and clammy, but I had to stay in control. His alpha scent could bring on an early heat. Tears laced my eyes, just thinking of that, but I didn’t want to let him hear my sobs, and tried to hold my breath, anything to stop his scent. Holding my hand over my nose, anything to garner control again. I popped another suppressant in my mouth.

He can’t get in here.

I repeated the mantra once again, and it was as though he sensed my pain and turned away, strolling to the easel and looking at my drawing again. He took his mobile out of his pocket and took a picture.

I shook my head at that.

He turned once more to the wood panelling of my hidden room before he turned and walked to leave, holding the handle with one hand and pushing his other palm against the door. His forehead dropped against the wood and it was only seconds. You’d think it was hours.

He strode once more to the camera in my room, and I stared at the man in the mask, and knowing he stared back at me.

Those pale grey eyes, surrounded with eyelashes that were long and dark. My eyes widened as he raised his index finger to his mouth, pursing his lips together with a shush. His full lips were noticeable through the mask. He smiled, a row of brilliant white straight teeth.

Not quite the monster I expected underneath the mask.

I closed my eyes, put my head in my hands for a quiet moment and when I rose my head again, he was gone.

Pressing my head against the wall as I let out a sigh. But just as I did, a loud gunshot roared through the house. I scrambled to grab the remote and rushed through the different cameras around the house. Someone had destroyed the camera at the front door. I switched the view to the living room and gasped. Seeing my father staring at an unknown person, his eyes looked frozen with horror.

“Please,” he whispered. “Why?”

My eyes ached as I stared at the screen, before tears sprung to my eyes. His look was pallid, sweat glistened on his forehead as he remained tied to the chair. My body was fevered, my muscles sore from stiffly watching as his head shook wildly as he pleaded.

“No, I’m sorry. No... no...” Then a howl penetrated my ears. It came from deep within his stomach as he pleaded for his life. “Don’t do this... please...” A much lower, controlled tone, his eyes opened wide with a slow shake of his head.

He didn’t beg for long.

He blinked rapidly before staring at the person in front of him and everything was quiet for a short time as he pleaded with his eyes and not with his words.

I choked, knowing this was his end, and slapped my hand over my mouth to cover the sound. At the same moment, an ear-piercing burst roared through the air, followed by a flash of silver. My father’s eyebrows arched.

It was quick.

His head slumped, and blood gushed from his forehead to the floor.

I sucked back my sobs before turning off the CCTV and collapsing on my bed. Curling myself into the fetal position and rocking in the hope I would fall asleep and wake up to realise it was only a bad dream.