Chased (Savage Men 3)

“Take my hand,” he says.

I shake my head. I don’t know where his hand will lead me. I only know it can’t be anywhere but straight to hell.

“You’re covered in blood,” he says. “I just want to get you cleaned up.”

“No,” I say resolutely. My body grows rigid as he approaches once more.

He breathes heavily. “So you are afraid of me,” he says. There’s a certain tone to his voice that I can’t place. It’s dark and … melancholic.

After a moment of complete silence, he adds, “Ask me anything.”

My lips part, but all I can do is suck in a breath. Is this it? Is this the moment when he’ll finally come clean? When I’ll finally know the truth?

The longer I think about it, the more I shut down. So many questions … but do I really want to know the answer?

“Think hard … there’s no going back once you know,” he says, his voice heavy.

My lips quiver as the realization kicks in that we can never go back to the way it used to be. That I can never be that innocent girl from Roy’s club anymore, or that victim stuck in a cell … That I’m only his now and no one else’s. That there’s no changing him or us. And that what I learn might make or break me.

I step back farther as he approaches. I can’t let him get close. Can’t let him touch me. Because I already know what happens if he does.

But there’s a wall in the way, and I can’t move any farther.

I swallow away the lump in my throat as I attempt to form my very first question, but I can’t get the words off my tongue. Can’t let them go because of what it means when we both know the truth.

What it means when he admits that he’s a cold-blooded killer.

I’ve known it all along, but I chose to deny it. Chose to forget about the night he came home to wash dirty clothes because it was too insane to be true.

But it is.

I knew deep down that it’s always been his single truth.

He doesn’t just hurt people. Doesn’t just make them bleed.

He kills them. Mercilessly.

Chase closes in on me, trapping me between his body and the wall. “What am I?” he says through gritted teeth.

He’s so close I can feel his breath on my chin.

“Say it … out loud.”

“A monster.” The air is knocked from my lungs as the words pour out. “A killer.”

His finger slowly traces a line down my cheek, down the very same path the blood traveled. Whose blood, I don’t know. Mine, his, the men he killed. It should shock me, but right now nothing does.

Only him.

“Then you know,” he whispers, “I’m not the hero who saved you. I’m the bad guy … a serial killer.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Accompanying Song: “I did Something Bad” by Shoshana Bean and Cynthia Erivo (Cover)

Chase

Hate flows.

It’s ebbing out of me like a tsunami, flooding this very room we’re standing in.

But I won’t let it drown us. Won’t let it kill her.

I’ve gone too far. Too deep.

Even though I tried so hard to deny temptation, she’s wormed her way into my heart. And now I have to live with the consequences.

The fear she exudes hurts me beyond my imagination. Beyond anything those men or anyone else could ever do to me.

Like a dagger to the heart, it punctures the very love I feel for her and reveals it for what it truly is … an abomination.

A love which I cannot have, which I do not earn, which I can’t ever crave.

Yet I want her … so badly.

I want her to love me too.

But now that chance is gone forever. Ruined by the fact I lost my temper and went after him … and now I have to face the destruction I caused. Face the sadness that wrecks her… and me when I look at her.

“Do you hate me?” I ask.

When she doesn’t reply, I add, “Say something.”

She just stays there, completely frozen, clinging to the wall.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I growl. “Good or bad.”

“That night … with the bloodied clothes,” she murmurs.

“Yes, I killed someone that night.”

She sucks in a breath and holds it.

It feels good to finally let it out.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” I ask, cocking my head.

She nods softly, making me smile and shake my head.

“And still you thought what? That I was redeemable?”

Her face contorts. “I don’t know what to think …”

“I’m the bad guy,” I hiss, leaning forward even more so I can take in her scent. “Someone who enjoys the scent of blood.”

I take a deep sniff, and goose bumps cover her whole body.

“So you’re really a serial killer,” she says in one breath.

I take a strand of her hair and curl it around my finger. She’s so beautiful up close. I can’t ever get used to it.