21. Luella
Chapter 21
Luella
I pace the damn room, feeling like a caged animal. It’s not small by any means—in fact, it’s probably the nicest room I’ve ever been in. But there aren’t any windows, just a thick cherry wood door that Colton locked behind him.
Locked .
Like I’m some kind of possession to be hidden away.
I drag my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots for some sort of release, but the tension only tightens. The air in here is suffocating, clean and perfumed as it is. Too clean. Too perfect. It reeks of control, just like everything else in this goddamn bunker.
I stop in front of the door, glaring at it like somehow I can burn a hole through it with enough hate.
What the hell has happened to me?
I was supposed to be running this game, not the other way around. I came to the Blackwood house with a purpose: vengeance, retribution. Whatever you want to call it. Justice , maybe, for everything Xavier Blackwood has done. The bastard deserves to rot, and I was so close to lighting the match that’d set his whole empire ablaze. Close enough to taste it.
And now? Now I’m locked in here like some…some helpless girl waiting for a prince to save her.
Except the prince is Colton.
I sit on the edge of the bed, some ridiculously oversized thing with silk sheets; a bed fit for a Queen. Or a very dark King. I dig my nails into my palms, hard enough to leave half-moons in my skin. Anything to distract from the creeping panic that’s trying to claw its way to the surface. I won’t let it. I won’t allow myself that weakness. Not now.
Not when I’ve fought tooth and nail to get this far.
I thought I could trust Colton. Hell, no, not trust. That’s a ridiculous word for what we have—whatever this is. Some dangerous, twisted mess of lust and survival. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a part of me stupidly believed he was just trying to protect me, that there was some method to his madness.
But now, staring at this door like it’s the final obstacle to my goal, I realize the truth. It isn’t about protecting me. It never was.
Colton wants me hidden away because he can’t stand the idea of me out there, moving pieces on the board that he’s not controlling. He wants me for himself, wants me under the same lock and key that his father placed on him all those years ago.
He’s trapped in his own cage—built by Xavier—and now he’s trying to build one for me.
Fuck that.
I get up again, pacing, running scenarios through my mind. I need to get out of here. I will get out of here . But if the door’s locked, and I know Colton, he’s not going to just let me waltz out like nothing happened.
I could tell him my plan. Lay it all out on the table. Tell him what Xavier really did, what he’s responsible for. How this is more than just personal for me—it’s everything . Maybe that would make him understand. Maybe he’d let me go.
But even as I think it, a voice in the back of my mind whispers that it’s a trap. That Colton isn’t someone I can reason with. I think of his dark, swirling eyes, the ones that seem to hold so much: pain, anger, hunger, lust, and something else I still can’t quite place.
No. I can’t tell him. Not yet. Not until I have a way out.
My eyes scan the room, looking for anything useful. Something I can use to break the door down, though I already know that’s a dead end. The Blackwood’s don’t do things halfway. This door is solid. Too solid. No chance of kicking it down or forcing it open.
Think, Luella. Think .
Colton has a weakness. I know he does. Everyone does. And I just need to figure out what it is before this bunker swallows me whole.
I sit back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. I have to stay calm. Stay strong. Xavier Blackwood might be the enemy, but his son…his son is dangerous in a different way. The kind of danger that makes you want to fall into it, let it consume you whole. It’s irrational and reckless, and I’d be a fool to let it pull me under.
But even now, part of me wonders if I miscalculated. I thought Xavier was the only monster in that house, but maybe—just maybe—Colton is worse than his father in ways I hadn’t considered. At least Xavier’s cruelty is predictable. Calculated.
Colton? He’s chaos. He’s fire and ice, all in one. And that makes him unpredictable.
And a fucking problem.
I stand again, restless, my legs itching to move. I start pacing, back and forth, counting my steps even though it doesn’t help calm the buzzing in my head.
Colton might think he has me trapped, but I refuse to believe there’s no way out. There’s always a way out. And if I have to tear this room apart, tear him apart to make it happen, then so be it.
I glance at the door again, waiting for the sound of footsteps. Waiting for the moment Colton decides to come back. Because he will. He’s not the type to just walk away. He wants something— to control, me, revenge, hell if I know—but whatever it is, he’ll be back for it.
And when he comes, I’ll be ready.
He thinks I'm weak. He thinks I’ll fold because he’s locked me away like some damsel in distress. He has no idea what I’m capable of, what lengths I’ll go to, to take his father down.
I stare at the heavy wood panels of the door, my fists clenched. Let him come. Let him think he’s got me under control.
I’ll show him just how wrong he is.
There’s a weakness in him, and I’ll find it. I’ve already seen the cracks—the anger that flares when he talks about his father, the haunted look in his eyes when he thinks no one’s watching. He’s broken in more ways than one, and I’m going to shatter him completely if that’s what it takes.
Because no man, not even Colton Blackwood, will keep me locked up forever.
So why do I feel so afraid?
I’m sitting on the bed in my underwear some hours later. My clothes were too dirty to put back on, so they sit in a pile on the floor. My hair is damp, clinging to my face and neck, evidence of the shower I forced myself to take. The sight of him, standing in the doorway, sends a shiver down my spine. He tosses a dress at me, which I catch easily.
“Wear this. How are you finding your new...accommodations?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes scanning me, taking in every detail of my appearance. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, and it makes my skin crawl.
“Colton,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, but I force a steel undertone into it. “You can’t keep me here. This...this is wrong.”
I tug the dress over my head, grateful to have clean clothes, at least.
He chuckles, a sound that comes out dark and menacing. “Wrong?” He pushes off from the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps towards me. “This isn’t wrong, Mary. This is right. This is where you belong. With me.”
I shrink back slightly as he approaches, but I never take my eyes off him. I’m wary, like a cornered animal, but I refuse to show him the fear that’s coiling in my stomach. I have to be strong, even if it’s just a facade.
He reaches out, his hand cupping my face. His skin is warm against my cool cheek. I tense under his touch, but I don’t pull away. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. “You’re mine, Mary,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
I take a deep breath, my chest rising and falling, drawing his eyes to the neckline of my dress. I can feel my pulse pounding at the base of my throat, betraying my fear. I hate that he can see it, that he can revel in it.
“Colton,” I say again, my voice firmer this time. “You need to let me go. This isn’t love, this is...obsession.”
He smiles, a cold, humorless smile. “Love, obsession—what’s the difference? They both consume you; both make you do things you never thought you would.”
His fingers trail down my neck, lingering over my pulse point. I can feel the heat radiating off him, intense and overwhelming. He takes my hand, and I tremble, half furious, half terrified.
“No, Colton,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “It’s not the same. Love doesn’t lock people away. Love doesn’t take control like this.”
He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “And what do you know about love, Mary? What has it ever done for you besides leave you broken and alone?”
I clench my jaw, forcing myself not to react to the sting of his words. He’s right, in a way; love has never been kind to me. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let him twist it into something so dark and depraved.
“Just because you don’t understand it, Colton, doesn’t mean it’s not real,” I whisper, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “And it certainly doesn’t mean you can trap me here.”
He pulls back slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You’re right, Mary. I don’t understand it. But I understand this.” His hand slides down to rest on my shoulder, his grip firm but not painful. “I understand control. I understand power. And I understand that having you here, with me, is the only way I can keep you safe. From my father, from everyone else who wants to hurt you.”
I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Safe? Is that what you tell yourself? Because it feels more like a prison to me.”
His grip tightens just a fraction, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. There’s a vulnerability there, hidden beneath the layers of control and obsession. It’s a crack in his armor, a weakness. And I have to exploit it if I want any chance of getting out.
“Colton,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t keep me safe by locking me away. You can’t control the world...”
He laughs, shaking his head as a ripple of unease sweeps through me.
“Let me show you what I mean, Mary.”
And just like that, I don't want to know.