Chapter 32
For the first time in months, I finally have the urge to draw something. The need to create settles in, and I focus on the weight of the charcoal in my hand.
That small joy is soon gone the moment I hear that terrifying and deafening sound.
The waves reach me before I understand what it is, and something in my chest tightens instinctively. The feeling is wrong. Too wrong to ignore.
“What was that?” I mutter to myself, my head snapping up.
My heart won’t stop pounding. It hurts with every beat.
A loud noise comes from inside the house. It sounds like a gunshot. Moments later, the house sirens go off, and my breath catches.
Who fired it?
Why?
Who was he aiming at?
Something is going terribly wrong, and all I can think about is him.
I toss the easel without caring whether it breaks or not.
I need to find Adam.
As I open the door, he’s already there, so close I walk straight into him.
“What happened?” I ask.
It takes a moment for my eyes to catch up with what I’m seeing. He’s covered in blood—so much of it that I can’t tell what’s fresh and what’s already drying, and I don’t know how much of it is his.
“We’re leaving,” he says, his hand closing firmly around my arm.
“What? Where?”
“I’ll explain once we’re out of this hellhole.” He pulls me closer.
That’s when I notice the knife in his other hand. It’s clean. Impossibly so.
Something about that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t get to do this without explaining himself first.
I wrench my arm free. “No. You’re covered in blood,” I say, my voice shaking. “What happened?”
“Listen to me,” he snaps. “We have to get the fuck out of here. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we’re going—and why the alarm is on.”
“Because they’re after me, goddamn it,” he shouts, unnaturally loud for him.
“Why?”
He exhales hard, already out of patience. “Do you trust me or not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then move,” he cuts in. “Stop thinking and come with me.”
“No—”
“Christ,” he growls. “You are the most stubborn fucking woman I’ve ever met.”
He slips the blade between his teeth, bends down, and grabs me before I can react, hauling me up and throwing me effortlessly over his shoulder.
Time is running out.
When the alarm goes off, the place locks down in two minutes, and then my father will find him and kill him.
And there’s no way I’ll let that happen.
“Let me go!” I struggle, pounding against his back.
“I will,” he says around the knife. “Right after we’re the fuck out of here.”
As we move through the corridor, Dad’s employees are running in every direction, panicked and shouting, and the sirens seem louder now.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the garage. We’re taking one of your daddy’s bikes,” he says without slowing down.
“Put me down. I can walk. I’ll follow you.”
He stops just long enough to glance at me, his grip tightening. “Should I trust you not to freeze up or do something stupid?”
“Yes.”
He scoffs, but he sets me down anyway. Then he grabs my wrist—hard—and takes off running again. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Isabella?” my mother breathes, her eyes wide with panic. “What the hell did you do?”
The accusation hits before I can even process it. Unbelievable.
“I did something?” I snap, my voice rising.
Adam’s grip loosens, then disappears entirely, and he’s already moving without glancing at me. He’s marching straight toward her like a predator who’s found his next prey.
It feels like whatever he’s about to do, there won’t be a way to undo it.
He grabs her by the throat and lifts her off the ground like she weighs nothing.
“How much is she worth?” he snarls. “Huh?”
“What are you doing—”
“Tell me,” he roars, cutting me off, fingers tightening until her face darkens. “How much is she fucking worth to you?”
My stomach turns. This isn’t him. Or maybe it is, and I’ve just never seen this part before. His face is twisted with something feral and unrestrained, his eyes wild and furious. I’m terrified, not just of what he’s doing, but of what he’s become.
I’m terrified to realize how little control he has left.
“I-it was his idea,” she gasps, her voice thin, like the air isn’t reaching her lungs anymore. “I-it’s just … business.”
His jaw clenches at that, his grip tightening even more.
“You fucking bitch,” he hisses, his hands shaking vehemently.
It happens so fast my mind can’t keep up. His hands twist, and there’s this sound—this small and disgusting sound—before he throws her to the ground.
“Mother!” I scream, the word tearing out of me as my heart slams violently against my ribs.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m suspended between fear and disbelief, staring at her broken body on the floor.
He killed her.
He snapped her neck like it was nothing more than a reflex.
I don’t hear the sirens anymore. All that’s left is the sound of my own heart, pounding so loudly it fills my head.
“What did you do?” I ask. My eyes burn as tears spill over.
I can’t look away from her body. I don’t think I ever will.
Numbness creeps in and takes over, hollowing me out, shutting something off inside my head.
“I’m setting you free,” he says.
His fingers close possessively around my wrist again, and I don’t have the strength to pull away—even as I realize that whatever he’s done, whatever he thinks this is, there’s no freedom left for me at all.