Chapter 17 Aria
ARIA
“Scream and lose all your privileges, or stay quiet like the good girl I know you can be, and you’ll be rewarded.”
He clips close enough so only I can hear, his breath hot against my ear as we step into the hotel lobby. Surrounded by strangers and the dull hum of conversation, he wants me silent—obedient—before I have the chance to make a scene.
I sit on the edge of the bed, the threats still looping in my head as I listen to Ledger end his call with Frankie, who’s at the other end of the hall.
“We won’t be staying long,” I hear him say to her. He paces the room, shoulders drawn tight, scanning like he’s looking for something out of place. Then his gaze settles on me.
I tense, arms still strained behind me from where he tied them earlier, the pillow at my side having long absorbed the sobs I stifled there. Even now, the sound of the locks on the door still rattle in my head, first a soft click, then a deeper clunk that settled into place.
I hadn’t realized it at the time, not with my eyes blurred by tears, but now, I see it wasn’t just the hotel’s lock. A second lock sits wedged tight against the original, bulky and unfamiliar.
It doesn’t belong here.
Neither does he.
His presence is far more jarring than the lock itself. Anyone would be able to notice that hunk of metal. It sticks out. Signals the red alarm bells.
Unlike his calm, steady facade that seemed to fool the ditzy receptionist downstairs, who couldn’t snap her gaze away from him long enough to notice the tension lodged in my throat.
It’s all starting to feel futile. The fight had seeped out of me as I slogged through the warehouse to this hotel.
He’s got everyone fooled. And for a moment, even myself. But whatever was starting to bloom between us was swiftly snipped apart before it got the chance to spiral into something more.
Something dangerous.
The trust between us is gone. I’ve ruined everything. Even if there was somehow still a chance at mutual trust, I’ve definitely shattered it by now.
His eyes narrow on me. Like he’s studying, contemplating whether he needs to threaten me again or whether I’ll stay cooperating. I stay rigid in my spot, knees pressed tightly together to keep them from quivering, the ache in my shoulders tugging through me. There’s no use in resisting anymore.
The silence around us thickens.
He takes a step forward, and I can’t help the way my heart soars. Each beat against my chest is another reminder that despite everything he’s done, I still can’t stop the attraction from building.
“You know why I had to do what I did…don’t you?” he asks, halting at the halfway mark between the bed and the doorway.
I try to find my voice, and when I do, I muster every ounce of fortitude I have left.
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone about you,” I say, even as the sharp glint in his eyes nearly drives the words back down my throat. “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true,” I add, stunning myself with the calmness in my voice.
He raises a wry brow. “Suppose I believe you,” he says, darting a quick look to the windows where the curtains are already drawn for privacy. “It doesn’t really change anything.”
My shoulders droop, the small movement tugging painfully against the restraints. I already know in the deepest parts of me that he’ll never let me go, but still, I need to understand. “But why?”
He stares at me for a long moment. His gaze sparking a familiar heat that builds the longer his eyes stay trained on me. My heartbeat doubles, slamming violently against my chest.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I wonder briefly if he can hear it through the stretch of silence.
“So much determination,” he utters more quietly this time, mostly to himself. “It’s fascinating, really.” His eyes are piercing, cutting straight into my soul. Not even the sharp end of his blade can match that kind of intensity.
“W-What do you mean?”
He takes another step forward, inching closer.
Suddenly, my tongue grows heavy, along with the rest of me, as memories of touching him resurface. The heat already simmering in my core dips lower. And lower. The thudding intensifies with it, pulsing deep between my thighs.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A shameful blush creeps up my cheeks. Why am I reacting like this? What’s wrong with me?
He reaches down to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind my ear once he’s close enough, and my breath catches. His eyes darken to a cold shade of gunmetal. Beautiful. Deadly. Like the rest of him.
My next breath is shallow, unlike the pounding behind my ribs that feels hard enough to fracture a bone. A malicious curve tugs at his lips like he knows what’s stirring in my head, relishing the pull he has on me.
“You’re fighting hard to go back to a place that never wanted you,” he says, his hand still holding the hair behind my ear.
My chest constricts and my eyes burn. But I keep my emotions locked up tight, away from his amusement. Those are mine. Nobody can take that away.
“Let it go,” he says flatly, like those words don’t sting. “Stop fighting the inevitable. Those people won’t let you live past an hour if you go back to your old life.”
Swallowing through the tightness in my throat, I keep my head held high, without a flinch. Even as his warm breath spreads over my face.
“You mean your boss?”
I recall Frankie saying something about them…The Raiders? Ranger…? Then it clicks back into memory. The Ringer. That’s it.
He searches my face, his gaze steady and unreadable. Heat crawls up my neck as my stomach coils tight. “Yes,” he answers.
His fingers trail away from my hair to my throat, his thumb pressing against the warm, delicate flesh in a way that sends chills down my spine.
How can a simple glance feel so intimate?
Like he’s seeing straight through every defense I’ve built, exposing whatever’s left of me underneath.
I’m thankful I’m seated, or else he’d notice the tremble in my limbs.
I force my thighs together to hold them still, but it only turns the fluttering into something sharper.
“The past won’t help you now. Holding onto that life is only making this harder.”
Something unwelcome curls low in my stomach. I shake my head, unable to find anything else to say. There’s nothing I can say. His mind is made up.
He really thinks this is the only way forward.
My eyes round as an idea comes to me. “I’ll vouch for you,” I stumble over my words, rushing to get the thought out. He narrows his eyes on me.
“You’ll vouch?” he echoes.
I nod with fervor, a slight dizziness following it. “Those people after you, after us…The Ringer? They aren’t above the law. If you come forward, I’ll back you up, say that without your protection they would’ve harmed me.”
The moment his eyes harden on me, the rest of my rambling dies in my throat. A cold, dark, paralyzing fear takes hold of me.
“Where’d you get that name from?” His tone is clipped. All trace of softness gone.
I flinch when he leans closer to me, his breath adding to the heat already radiating from my cheeks. Despite his hard glare, I don’t give up insisting.
“I know you don’t trust the police. Frankie told me everything, but I promise I’ll—”
“Not a chance,” he bites out before I can finish. “You think you know everything now? That you get it?”
His words snap like a whip, fast and cruel. The thumb on my neck digs deeper, almost like a warning that each breath I take is a mercy he’s afforded me, but can still easily be revoked.
My lips quiver, his gaze dropping to them in an instant.
They linger before snapping back to my eyes.
“Did you stop at least once to consider that maybe there’s no way to get around the fact that I’m the cause behind your little school friend’s case?
” His grasp on my neck remains, but his other hand lifts to tap the side of my head, not too hard but enough to make me flinch.
“What about the guy from the cabin invasion, smart girl? Could I get around all of that because my little captive vouched for me?”
My heart accelerates. Blood swooshing loud in my ears.
“Tell me,” he whispers, daring me to answer.
I speak before the discomfort can settle between us, before the tension turns suffocating. My tongue flicks out to wet my lip. “I’m not scared of you.”
My voice is strained, barely making it past the tightness in my throat.
His eyes track the movement, narrowing into a mean stare. Like he might turn rabid and sink his bared teeth into me to put me in my place. Teach me a lesson on what and who he is to me. But he doesn’t do it. He just stares at me, his gaze focused on my lips.
“You should be,” he says, the words laced with a cold indifference, contrary to the heated stare he’s still pinning me down with. “I’m not a good guy. Don’t think I won’t hurt you in a second if you step out of line again.”
His threat is meant to scare me. To keep control. To make sure that neither of us spirals so the lines don’t get crossed again.
But I’m past caring. Past pretending this hasn’t already gone too far. That the lines have faded a lot sooner than either of us is willing to admit.
“You really think you could hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt?”
“Baby, I know I can,” he grits out.
Hunger flares behind his eyes, but there’s a hint of fury, too.
“Then do it,” I say, my voice low, shaking. “What are you waiting for? Hurt me.”
I stare straight at him. Daring him to go through with his threat. Go ahead and hurt me. Break me. I want him to unleash everything he’s hiding behind. To acknowledge the real reason he’s been unable to rid himself of me.
And with a low growl, he gives into the madness.