31. Luella
Chapter 31
Luella
I don’t hear them coming.
The safe house is quiet, almost too quiet. The air is cold, biting in a way that seeps into my bones, no matter how many layers I’m wearing. I pace the living room, glancing out the window every couple of minutes, convinced I’m going to see figures in the darkness watching me.
I’m supposed to be safe here. No one knows where I am—other than the cops. But something feels wrong. The house is too still, too dark. Maybe I’m just not used to being safe. I doubt it’s something I’ll ever get used to.
Out of every enemy I have, I expect Colton to find me first, obsessive bastard that he is.
But I’m wrong.
It happens fast—too fast.
I’ve just sat down, trying to clear my mind, when I hear it. A soft click from the front door. Barely a sound, but it’s enough to spike fear through my chest. I shoot to my feet, ready to fight, but it’s too late.
The door swings open, and before I can react, three men rush in, their faces masked, their movements swift and precise. The first man grabs me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. My head rings as his grip tightens, cutting off my air. I claw at his hand, but he’s too strong. The room spins, my vision blurring as I struggle to stay conscious. The second man shoves a cloth over my mouth—some thick, sour scent fills my lungs. I try to scream, but it’s muffled, trapped inside me as the world begins to slip away. My limbs grow heavy, my body goes limp, but I fight. I claw and kick, trying anything to get free.
But it’s not enough. They have planning—and the element of surprise—on their side.
This is supposed to be a fucking safe house!
The third man binds my wrists, the rope biting into my skin as they drag me out of the safe house. My vision spins, the drug taking over, the world slipping further from my grasp with every passing second. I barely make out the shapes around me—the car waiting in the driveway, the men tossing me into the back seat like I’m nothing.
I hear their voices, muted and distant, drowned by the slam of the door. My heart hammers in my chest as the car jolts to life—every vibration of the engine rattling through my bones. The tight leather seat beneath me feels too slick under my damp palms as my fingers tremble. The smell of gasoline and sweat sharpens the air, making it hard to swallow around the lump in my throat. As the car speeds forward, every bump in the road sends prickles of dread crawling up my spine.
For one split second, all I want is him. Colton.
I try to focus, try to burn every detail into my brain—their voices, the scent of the leather in the car, anything that might help later. But my mind keeps slipping, sinking deeper into the blackness swallowing me whole.
The last thing I see is a glimpse of the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror—cold, calculating, filled with malice.
And then, everything fades.
When I wake up, the world is still a blur of shadows and muffled noises. My throat burns, and the sharp pain in my wrists tells me the ropes haven’t been loosened, not even a little.
Bastards.
My head pounds, a dull, insistent throb. I taste something sour on my tongue.
Fucking hell.
Slowly, I shake off the fog in my brain, forcing my eyes to focus on the room around me. A small, dim space stretches out in front of me, the concrete floor icy against my skin. I’m lying on my side, curled up on the rough cement, the faint flicker of a lightbulb above. The air reeks of dampness, mildew clinging to every surface.
A basement. It has to be.
Pain shoots through my wrists as I try to adjust, the rope digging deeper into my raw skin. Blood slicks against the bindings.
Focus, Luella.
I tilt my head, straining to catch the faint creak of footsteps above me. Whoever they are, they aren’t far.
Memories of the attack slam back into my mind. The men. The safe house. I had been ready for Colton to do something drastic, but this? I didn’t think too much about anyone else, meaning I underestimated whoever this was.
This isn’t Colton. This is someone else. A cold weight settles in my stomach.
Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to bring me here. The real question is—why?
And more importantly, where the fuck am I?
Damn it. Think.
It has to be Xavier Blackwood.
Panic flares in my chest, but I shove it down, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In and out.
Count. One, two, three.
As if on cue, I hear a door creak open. Heavy footsteps echo down the stairs.
A man appears in the doorway, tall and looming, his silhouette menacing in the dim light as he steps closer. His face is hidden, cloaked in shadow. But his voice—it slices through the room like a knife, cold and low, sending a jolt of vile recognition through my soul.
My heart lurches.
No. No, it can’t be ? —
Xavier Blackwood.
“Mary, or should I say, Luella?” he says, almost a whisper. “Welcome back.”
My real name from his mouth feels like a scar reopened.
Luella .
The one name that reveals everything, the one name I’ve buried under false identities, under the facade of Mary, the dutiful housemaid who smiled through clenched teeth. That name is loaded, wrapped in chains of memories and blood and promises of revenge. He doesn’t deserve to say my name like a loaded weapon, the sick bastard.
“Aww,” he continues, his voice velvet-smooth, slippery as oil. “You’ve missed me.”
I struggle to rise to my feet to face the devil himself. The man I want to kill more than anything in the world. But my knees buckle before I can stand, my body too sluggish to cooperate. I choke on the bitter bile rising in my throat, the weight of his presence crushing every ounce of defiance I’ve been clinging to.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out who you are, Luella?” His voice is soft, mocking. “You came into my house, pretending to be someone else, but I’ve known from the start.” He steps closer, the weight of his presence crushing down on me.
His face inches from mine, the smell of whiskey and tobacco radiating from him, he’s savoring every moment of this. Every flicker of fear that dances across my features, every wince of pain as the bindings chafe against my wrists. He reaches out, a cold hand brushing my hair away from my face, and I flinch.
That only makes his smile widen.
I try to fight the wave of nausea rising within me, every muscle in my body screaming to lash out, to bite, to tear him apart. But I’m still too groggy, too weak. Not yet. My wrists burn where the ropes bite into my skin, but that pain is nothing compared to the fear lurking in the back of my mind—the fear that I’ll never get the chance to make him pay for what he did to Sophia.
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
“Let’s see… What was it you wanted, hmm?” His voice is syrupy now, drenching the room in menace. “Tell me, what did you want?”
“Fuck you.”
His chuckle is low, something that curls in the air like smoke, drawing tighter around me like a noose.
“Such fire. Just like Sophia.”
At her name, my vision explodes red. Memories surge in violent waves: Sophia’s bruised skin, her lifeless body, those men—this man—who took her, twisted her, shattered her. Sophia’s lifeless eyes flash in my mind—eyes once filled with warmth and laughter. Xavier’s men took that from her, stripped her down to nothing until she was just a broken body on a cold floor. And now, they want to do the same to me.
I lunge forward, my rage propelling me despite the bindings. But it’s futile. I collapse forward, my body smacking against the concrete ground, and Xavier laughs—a deep, cold rumble that cuts through my furious desperation.
Pain owns me as my body reacts to the ground, and I close my eyes, trying to breathe through it.
“Easy now,” he taunts, rising from his crouch. “Wouldn’t want you too broken before the fun starts.” He walks away casually, hands in his pockets as though I’m merely an afterthought. But I know the monster well enough to catch the subtle tension in his stride—to recognize the calculation behind his facade. He’s waiting. Waiting for me to speak, to beg, or lash out again. He feeds on fear and fight.
He's in luck. I’m not fucking afraid, and I’m ready to fight.
I swallow and focus. I look around, scanning the room for something, anything—a weapon, a weak spot, anything I can use.
The footsteps stop.
Xavier.
Leaning casually against the far wall, his eyes lock onto me with that same predatory glint.
“I think I know why you were here, Luella.” A soft chuckle leaves his vile lips, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. “You wanted revenge for Sophia, didn’t you?” His voice is smooth, deranged satisfaction dripping into every syllable. “She was mine, you know. Bought and paid for.”
My blood turns to acid. Every twisted word seeps into my bones, feeding my rage. I want to lunge at him again, tear his throat out, but the ropes…
Damn these fucking ropes!
They’re pressing tighter against my skin with every failed attempt at movement.
I’m going to gut this mother fucker. Even if I die trying.
Xavier’s eyes glint as if he can feel my fury through the thick air between us. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Luella.” He steps closer again, his polished shoes slicing through the silence with ominous weight.
“Such a pretty name,” he mocks, his lips curling around it like a snake coiling to strike. “So delicate. It’s a shame about what happened to Sophia, really. She had her uses. But you?” His eyes narrow with a sudden venom. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“You murdered my sister, you son of a bitch,” I snarl, spitting on the ground.
He strides over, his eyes darkening, and he backhands me across the face. The force of the blow snaps my head to the side, pain exploding across my cheek. I taste blood, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Instead, I glare up at him, hatred burning in my eyes.
“Feisty,” he remarks, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Just like Sophia. She fought too, at first. But eventually, she broke. You all do.”
He circles me, his voice echoing off the cold walls of the basement. “You thought you could outsmart me, didn’t you? Thought you could infiltrate my home, get close to me, and what? Kill me in my sleep?” The sound of his laughter is like nails on a chalkboard.
I bare my teeth, and he hits me again, my head whipping to the side. “You’re going to regret that,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the pain radiating from my cheek. I can feel the warmth of my blood as it trickles down my face, but I don’t falter. I won’t give him the pleasure of seeing me react.
Xavier scoffs, his eyes never leaving mine. “Regret? Darling, I never regret. I take what I want, when I want it. And right now, I want you to suffer.” He runs a finger along my jaw, tracing the line of blood, and I jerk my head away, disgusted by his touch. He chuckles, stepping back. “But first, I want answers. Who helped you?”
I stay silent, my eyes locked onto his. I love that he thinks I needed help, that an innocent girl wouldn’t be able to end his fucking reign of depravity.
Chauvinistic pig.
His eyes narrow, anger flashing across his face. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” He pulls out a small knife from his pocket, the blade glinting menacingly in the faint light. “You’re going to talk, Luella. One way or another.”
I brace myself, steeling my body against the inevitable pain. I have to be stronger than him, stronger than the fear gripping my heart. I eye the blade, imagining how it would feel to sink it into his eyeball.
He takes a step closer, the knife poised in his hand. But before he can touch me, a sudden noise echoes from upstairs. Footsteps. Heavy and urgent. Xavier freezes, his gaze flicking towards the door.
“Sir?” a voice calls out, tense and hurried. “We have a situation.”