Chapter 62
DAKOTA
I tried two more times to scream my address, my location, and his identity for police, but Mathew clamped my mouth each time until finally, he threatened me.
“I’ll stuff your mouth with cloth,” he warned. “But you might choke to death on it.”
My heart stilled. I couldn’t risk choking. I had to keep him talking, keep dragging this out, looking for an opportunity to escape or pray to hell the cops would show up in time.
“You’re never going to get away with this.” I thrashed around, trying to escape the knife.
“If you don’t hold still, you’re likely to really get hurt, Dakota. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” His voice was sickeningly patient, like he was talking to a child.
“You’re about to slash my throat.”
“Not yet, Dakota. Not yet.” The promise in those words made my blood turn to ice.
Mathew’s free hand moved to my hair, fingers threading through the strands until he found the clip that held it up. He unfastened it, then removed all the bobby pins one by one, each metal piece falling to the floor like tiny metal countdowns to my demise.
What in the creepy clown hell is he doing?
“You stripped yourself down for the world. So, let me help.” His breath was hot against my ear. “Let me show them who you really are.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and used the knife to start slicing through it. The blade whispered through each lock, chunks of strawberry-blonde falling to the floor like dying leaves.
This can’t be happening.
After everything Axel and I had been through, I thought we’d finally gotten our happily ever after. I thought the worst was behind us.
Thinking of Axel sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through me. When he found out what happened, when they found my body, Axel would never forgive himself. I could only hope Mathew would be in prison or dead because if he wasn’t, Axel would hunt Mathew to the ends of the earth and kill him.
That’s the depth of protectiveness he had for me. Axel would never let it go.
Ever.
But that wouldn’t change anything right now. As much as I thrashed around, I couldn’t escape these bindings. I couldn’t escape this chair, and I couldn’t escape this stage of horror. And even if someone somehow recognized where I was, it would be too late to save me by the time they got here.
I would never get to hold Axel again. Never get to kiss him and tell him I loved him. I wished I’d told him just one more time before I left the wedding.
“Do they still love you when you cry like this?” Mathew taunted, cutting through the last lock of hair. “Or do they finally see you the way I do now: pathetic and broken?”
Tears streamed down my face, but I swallowed back the sobs building in my chest.
I really hope Axel isn’t watching this.
But this live stream was my only connection to the outside world. Mathew might kill me, but I wouldn’t let him get away with it. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let him control the narrative.
I looked directly into one of the cameras, hoping it was still live.
“This is what happens when a man thinks he owns you. When you stop being his fantasy and become a woman with a voice.”
Mathew’s slap came fierce and hard, the crack echoing through the small room. “You don’t like it when I use your platform against you, do you?”
I spat blood onto the floor.
Mathew put the knife to my throat again, but I looked at the camera one more time.
“This is what obsessive control looks like. This is—”
Pain exploded against my jaw. At first, I thought I’d been stabbed, especially because I was suddenly on the floor, the chair having toppled with me under the impact of Mathew’s fist. The full force hit my jaw so hard, I tasted copper and feared something was cracked.
But his attack had an unintended side effect: when I fell, my left leg’s tie had slipped off the chair leg. And with one fast kick, I got my right foot free as well.
Oh my God. My legs are free. I’m free of the chair.
My right shoulder screamed in pain from the landing, but with adrenaline flooding my system, I rolled up onto my knees.
Run.
Run, Dakota.
Get to the front door.
“Help!” I screamed, praying a neighbor would hear me through these thin apartment walls. “HELP ME!”
Another blow caught me in the ribs, sending me sprawling again. Blood dripped from my nose onto the floor, right near—
The knife!
In our struggle, one of the cameras had been knocked over, too, its red recording light still blinking frantically.
“Goddammit,” Mathew snapped, pressing his finger to his split lip and drawing it back to reveal blood. “You’re a pain in the ass—you know that?”
I rolled my body over the knife before he could see it, the blade’s handle digging into my back as Mathew stood up to fix one of the cameras.
Come on, come on.
As Mathew spat out a stream of curses, picking up the tripod and adjusting the lighting that had been disrupted in our struggle, I rolled onto my side and began sawing at my bindings. Fast. Furious.
Snap.
I heard the slight pop at the precise moment my wrists freed themselves, circulation rushing back into my hands like fire.
“Now.” Mathew stalked closer to me, his mask slightly askew. “Time for the finale.”
I rolled onto my side and jumped to my feet, holding the knife out in front of me with trembling hands. “Stay back!”
He froze. Those dark eyes, the only thing visible beneath that mask, narrowed with fury.
My lips quirked up in the first genuine smile I’d felt in hours. “Oops. You dropped your knife, MATHEW.”
His chest heaved.
“Mathew Ashford,” I announced to the cameras, my voice stronger now. “He’s my ex-boyfriend and evidently an obsessed stalker.”
“You’re a lying little bitch.”
Mathew lunged for me. I tried to stab him in the gut, but he was faster, grabbing my wrist and twisting it behind my back, spinning me around so my back was pressed against his chest. My arm burned where he’d wrenched it, the knife trapped between our bodies.
“That was a very stupid move, Dakota.” His breath was hot against my neck.
With my one free hand, I reached up behind me and grabbed the edge of his ski mask.
And ripped it off.
Exposing Mathew’s face for all the world to see.