“I’ll take care of it,” I say beneath my breath as I make my way to the door. She’s going to regret this, and she’s going to make it up to me. She’s mine after all.
BRAELYNN
It wasn’t a nightmare.
The deep cuts at my wrists from where I pulled against the restraints and the pain in my throat of screams that went unheard are proof that it really happened. My entire body is weak, my head faint, and my eyes beg to close and let sleep pull me under again. My racing heart won’t allow such a thing, though.
I’ve barely slept at all and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to again.
“You’re awake.” Declan’s deep voice from across the room startles me. With every muscle tense, I stare back at him. Darkness has settled under his eyes, telling me he hasn’t slept much either. Maybe not even at all.
“Yes,” I answer, not knowing what else to say as I roll over, making the bed groan. It takes a moment to calm even the slightest, but the fear doesn’t leave me. Standing there in nothing but pajama pants with his arms crossed, his corded muscles and bare chest are fully on display. Shadows from the early morning twilight play across his chiseled face.
He’s always been domineering in his stance and power has always radiated from him, but in this moment he is nothingother than the god who decides my fate. Merciless and hardened by sin, he is the only one who has control over what happens to me. It’s never been more obvious and with that knowledge, my throat tightens.
“Your purse and phone are in my office,” he says casually after taking a deep breath. His shoulders relax somewhat and he makes his way to me. Each dominating stride is more foreboding than the last.
With every step my heart beats harder, as though banging against the cage of my chest in an effort to escape. I can barely breathe as he kneels on the edge of the bed.
“My mother”—the words rush from me as if begging him for something—“she’ll want me to text her.” Swallowing thickly, I try to explain as his dark eyes narrow, telling him, “She calls every other day.”
Declan’s lips pull up into an asymmetric grin as he huffs a humorless laugh. His gaze moves to the right of the room, looking around aimlessly, and I pull the sheets up around me as much as I can. Before I can register what’s happening he’s on practically on top of me, pinning the covers down and it threatens to expose my chest.
There’s nothing between us that can protect me. It’s all too obvious as his sharp gaze reaches mine again.
“I can text her for you … I’m sure that will suffice?” he offers, his tone slightly condescending. Something must have happened as I slept. Something awful.
I remember the last time I told him I was scared, and how he told me I should be terrified. Adrenaline surges through me, but it’s no match for how numb my body feels. “Answer me,” he commands without an ounce of mercy. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I nod.
“Declan,” I say, and his name is a plea that I can’t help.
“You’re scared?” he says easily, sounding like the devil himself.
I can only nod, my throat closed so tight, I feel as if I’m suffocating.
“Tellme what happened and I can fix this,” he offers and it’s the first ounce of compassion from him. The tiniest bit but even still, it soothes so much pain. So much fear. My body begs to bow to him, to make myself small and let him comfort me.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t tell me what you didn’t do. Tell me what happened,” he corrects me.
Thump,thump.
“I don’t know … they kept asking me about computer files for your finances …” I remember the voice, deep and rough without a shred of empathy. I remember the man telling me to just give up a name. I don’t have a name. “I don’t know.” The wretched words slip from me in a whisper as the cage is lowered in my mind and agony betrays any semblance of control I might have.
“Tax evasion and tax fraud …” he says, coaxing me, climbing on the bed and making his way to me closer and closer, my skin heating with a fire that burns every inch of my skin.
My head shakes on its own as I whisper, “I don’t know any of it.” The fear climbing by the second, I don’t know what to tell him. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns and my pulse stutters. I couldn’t speak in this moment if I wanted to. Trapped by this man in his room, his rules the only certainty, I’ve never felt so hopeless and utterly alone.
“Did you ever take the laptop out of the office?”
“No,” I answer quickly. I was asked that same thing before in that room. The man asked me that. Flashes crash through my memory.The ice.
“When I found you snooping, I should have cut you off then.” His brutal tone cuts through me like a knife. “Instead I thought, I’ll prove she’s isn’t out to hurt me,” he tells me and his voice cracks ever so slightly. Peeking up into his gaze is painful. Regret and hate stare back at me. “Then you go and fall right into my trap,” he continues.
“Stop—Declan, stop please—I didn’t—”