Chapter 20 Holland
HOLLAND
Terror beat through my veins as Cooper forced me away from the door and into the living room. I tried to bite his hand that was forcefully over my mouth, but he shoved me onto the couch, releasing me. I jumped up before he could pin me to the furniture.
“I dare you to fucking scream, bitch,” he seethed as he stood over me.
“What do you want, Cooper? We have nothing else to say to each other. We’re over. We’ve been over.”
His wicked chuckle filled the room, and the hair on my arms stood on end.
“We’re far from over, Holland. In fact, I wanted to discuss something with you.”
“What’s that?” I crossed my arms tightly in front of me, as if forming a protective barrier against the waves of hate rolling off him.
The tension in the air was almost tangible, and I hoped I could reach him with reason.
It was evident that something in him had changed.
The man I once knew wasn’t this aggressive.
A sense of foreboding settled over me, and I had an inkling that I was on the verge of discovering what had caused his turnaround. “Do you need money?”
He threw his head back and laughed, a lock of his blond hair falling onto his forehead. I used to love it when that happened, and I’d gently brush it out of his brown eyes. The idea of touching him made my skin crawl.
“No. I have more than I’d hoped for. As soon as I helped find you … well, Draco paid off all my gambling debts and then some. Apparently, you’re worth a lot of fucking money.”
Against my will, my brows shot up to my forehead. “Draco? How do you know him?”
“I didn’t have a damn clue who the hell he was until about three months ago.
He approached me at a casino. Said he was looking for a woman named Samantha, and that you had an old debt to pay.
” Cooper shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Imagine my surprise when he showed me a recent picture of you. I have no idea where he got it, but it was clearly … well, Holland Alder. My Holland.”
“I knew it,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
“Back at the clinic, when you showed up—I told myself it was a coincidence.” I swallowed hard, the memory punching me in the gut.
“But it never sat right. You knew my name. You knew where to find me. I thought maybe I was simply being paranoid … but Draco sent you. You were watching me before I even knew Draco was in town.”
“Bravo.” He clapped.
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not your possession, Cooper.”
“You’re right. You’re not. You belong to Draco. I have orders to deliver you alive.”
My fear was so tangible I could taste it on my tongue, but this time it was laced with determination. There was no way in hell I would let Cooper take me to Draco. I’d escaped him once, and I refused to be his prisoner again.
Cooper’s mouth curled into a sick grin. “If it helps, I get to bring you in with a few bumps and bruises, as long as you’re breathing.
” He looked down at his hands, turning them over, as if considering how far he could push the instructions.
“Draco wants you scared. Desperate. So, when he gets you, you’ll be more compliant. ”
It sounded exactly like Draco. He’d want to savor my fear, burn it slowly into my bones. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but Cooper blocked the only path to the back or front door.
He took a measured step closer, a practiced calm in his gait.
“You should have stuck with me, you know. I would’ve kept you safe.
” His gaze steadied on mine, and I realized how fragile his self-delusion was.
I’d become the pint glass he’d once hurled at a wall—something he’d break just to hear the sound, then curse because he had to clean up the mess.
“I’m not going,” I said, my tone clear, almost formal as if resigning from a job. “I don’t care what he’s paying you. I survived him once. I’ll survive him again.”
He grinned, and the silver necklace around his neck caught the living room light, glinting. “You think you survived him? Sweetheart, that’s not what he said. He says you still owe him, and you know damn well he always collects.”
Images crashed through me—a locked door, bruises blooming like violets, a man with hands soft as cake icing and what they could do when pressed against a windpipe. Old debts. I forced myself not to shake.
“Do it, then.” I stood. My knees turned to rubber while I flexed my fingers. “If you’re going to break me, get it over with.”
For a second, Cooper flinched, and the shadow dropped from his expression. I remembered the man who had once spent an hour tracking down my favorite Korean pastry in a storm, just so he could watch me smile. But that was a different version of Cooper.
He lunged, and I sidestepped, grabbing the lamp instead of the pepper spray on the side table. He snatched the lamp from my hand and slammed it onto the floor. It shattered, the bulb popping with a loud sound.
I managed to scream, secretly hoping the cop from earlier was near and would hear me. Someone please hear me.
“Shut the fuck up!” Cooper shouted, but I screamed again, louder, a shrill bloodcurdling sound. He slapped me, and the room tilted. I clawed at his cheeks and drew blood, and he jerked back with a curse.
“That’s the spirit,” he spat, wiping at his face.
He reached behind him, and for half a second his balance shifted.
I seized the moment, launching myself at his back and driving us both into the glass-topped coffee table.
Cooper slammed into it chest first. The surface shattered beneath us with a vicious crack, glass exploding outward as we crashed through.
Tiny shards embedded in his hair and clothes, slicing his arms and cheek, and trickles of blood smeared everywhere.
The sharp impact jolted the breath from my lungs, but I clung to him as he tried to yank free.
I wrapped an arm around his throat—awkward, desperate, but fueled by a panic so pure it felt like electricity.
Cooper thrashed, bucking to throw me off.
My chin smashed into his bony shoulder. The taste of blood filled my mouth, slick and metallic, as his elbow connected with my temple.
Stars burst behind my eyes, but I didn’t let go.
I dug my nails into his neck and squeezed, shrieking until my voice broke.
We rolled off the table, scattering shards across the floor, until he managed to pin me.
His knee ground into my ribs and all the air left my body.
“You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.
” He wheezed, his features flashing with rage.
He pressed a fist on my windpipe, just hard enough to make the edges of my vision flicker.
Tears spilled down into my hair, but the despair that should have come never did. Instead, I spat blood into his face.
He recoiled, wiping away my saliva, and in that split second, I twisted free.
I didn’t stop to think before I crawled across the ruined lamp, the jag of the broken bulb slicing the heel of my hand, and fumbled for anything with weight. My fingers closed on a clear, heavy ashtray—mine, from another life—and I swung.
The thick glass object caught Cooper square above the eyebrow. There was a sick, wet sound, and his head snapped sideways. He collapsed, covering his head, his cursing blurry and indistinct. Blood ran over his mouth and onto my floor.
I staggered up, struggling to regain my balance.
My phone was on the side table, five feet away.
As I lunged for it, Cooper’s hand caught my ankle, sending me sprawling across the floor.
He rolled onto his knees, swaying. I kicked at his chin but caught him on the cheekbone, his teeth clacking shut.
He didn’t yell this time—just crawled after me.
On the third try, I reached the phone, but Cooper’s weight came crashing down on my back. The cell skittered under the couch. He locked my arms behind me, bearing down so hard that the breath in my chest dwindled to nothing.
“I told you Draco didn’t care what shape you were in,” he gasped into my ear.
“Might as well make this worth my while.” His hand slid up the back of my shirt.
I shrieked again and bucked against him.
We tumbled sideways and he jerked my pajama shorts down over my hips. He easily pinned my arms over my head.
“You were always a good fuck. This one’s for old time’s sake.” He scrambled with his pants and flipped open the button.
My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything but the frantic rasp of my breath.
Tears burned, hot and useless, blurring my vision as panic clawed up my throat.
His weight pinned me, my ribs straining, the same helpless pressure I’d felt in that filthy cell years ago.
The stink of sweat, the rasp of a stranger’s laugh—it all bled together, past and present twisting into one nightmare.
I kicked, writhed, fought like a cornered animal, but the harder I thrashed, the deeper he pressed me to the floor.
Terror surged, colliding with white-hot rage.
I wasn’t that broken girl anymore. I would not let him take this from me again.
I’d tear his eyes out with my bare hands before I'd let him break me.
An odd sound stilled me as my hallway closet opened and the man in the devil mask appeared behind Cooper.
“You don’t get to touch what’s mine, motherfucker.” He growled, edged with danger. He leaned down and wrapped an arm around Cooper’s neck and hauled him to his feet.
I yanked my shorts up and pushed to my feet, every muscle screaming in protest. My knees buckled, trembling beneath me, and my body shook so violently I had to slam a hand against the wall to stay upright.
My vision swam, blood seeping into my eye and stinging as I swiped it away with a shaky hand.
My chest heaved, lungs burning for air, and still I forced myself to focus—because the devil was standing in my living room.