Chapter 1
Amelia
My body shakes vigorously, and I’m unable to contain the dread building inside.
“You were in my home?” I ask. “When?”
“Enough questions. Ask them later.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder and then throws the blanket off him. “I’m going to take a shower. Get some sleep.”
He slides off the bed while I clutch the blanket close, afraid of what’ll happen if I let go. If I let my mind allow these thoughts to invade.
Because deep down inside, I know he’s a bad guy.
A guy who seems capable of doing anything to get his way.
Even if it means setting someone up to become a killer.
A chill runs up and down my spine, and as the door to the bathroom closes and the shower is turned on, I throw the blanket off me and jump out of bed. I can’t stay here. No matter how desperately he wants me to or how good I felt when I kissed him, I have to escape.
So I search his room, ripping open everything I find—desk drawers, wardrobes, cabinets. I leave nothing unturned until I find what I’m looking for in the pocket of the pants he just took off: a key.
And not just any key. The key he’s carried with him since he first trapped me here in this house. The key that opens all the other rooms where the captives are kept.
I swallow hard, thinking about Anna and what it did to her when I took her with me.
I won’t make that same mistake again.
If I ever want to make it out alive, if I want them to be safe, I have to find another way to help them … from the outside.
I get up from the floor and grab my dress to put it on again, but this time, I don’t make the same mistake as last time. Instead of putting on my high heels, I grab a bunch of socks from his wardrobe, layer them over my feet, and slide on a pair of his training sneakers.
And without any further thoughts, I run.
Eli
Stripping off my shirt and jacket, I throw them in the corner of the bathroom and stare in the mirror at the man I’ve become for a moment. At the man who moved mountains to get a girl to confess … but at what price?
I turn around and look at the scars that cover my skin. Some old … some fresh. Every muscle that flexes sends a blazing trail of pain down my back, and I make a face at the thought of doing it all over again.
A necessary evil for a necessary crime.
Even the punisher must be punished for his sins.
I sigh to myself and close my eyes, preparing for what comes after I’m finished. And I turn on the shower and step under it.
The water rushes over my naked body, covering me in a sheen of warmth. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel overwhelmed by the pain. Instead, I’m reminded of the warmth I felt when she was on my lap, of how amazing it felt to bury myself inside her … of how much I really wanted to wrap my arms around her and never let go.
When I brought her here, I thought I could do this—that I could fuck her and use her and make her confess with ease. But she was more challenging than I imagined, and it took more than just my body to make her yield.
Groaning, I stare down at the water pooling at my feet, wondering how I got here. Why I ever made the decision to make her fall, bring her in, and break her. If it was all worth it.
Because I haven’t just added scars on top of scars to my back.
I’ve added scars to my heart.
The moment she kissed me, I lost the battle, the will to resist, and I let her. In fact, I loved it so much that I came back for seconds, for thirds … I needed more and more. I still do. The more I take, the more I want, and the more she’s willing to give, which leads to this vicious cycle neither of us can escape.
And when I go out there, I know I will need to make a decision about what to do with her. Decide whether I’m going to set her free or keep her for my own selfish needs.
But would she ever want me the way I want her?
Could she ever love the man beneath the beast?
The man who made her confess?
I run my hand over my face and rinse off, determined not to dwell on it further. The fact is, I’ve already made my decision. Even if I tell myself I still have time, I don’t.
Because I already knew long ago what I was going to do … And that it wasn’t going to be her choice, but mine. I don’t easily give up something that’s supposed to be mine to keep.