Chapter 28 Landon
LANDON
Twenty-five hours. One hour after the time when I could have claimed her again.
I sit in my car outside Sadie’s building, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. The digital clock on my dashboard mocks me with its glowing numbers. I could have been here at nine PM exactly, the moment our mandatory separation ended.
Instead, I forced myself to wait and sit in my home office, staring at the monitors displaying every angle of her apartment as she paced, checked her phone, and eventually fell asleep alone in her bed.
Pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic.
I’ve never waited for a woman. Never counted minutes. Never felt this gnawing emptiness in my chest when separated from someone.
“Compose yourself,” I mutter, adjusting my white mask. I’ve worn it since leaving my penthouse, needing its protection when I face her again.
I’ve tracked her movements all day through the spyware on her devices. Watched her research me. Observed her reaction to the BDSM video she accessed. Felt something twist inside me when she slammed her laptop shut.
Was it disgust I saw on her face?
The thought of her seeing those videos makes my skin crawl. I hate it. Hate that she’s glimpsed parts of me I keep hidden.
I check my watch again. Twenty-five hours and seventeen minutes.
“Perfect,” I say aloud. “She’ll think I didn’t care enough to come the moment I could.”
But we both know that’s a lie. The truth is, I couldn’t trust myself to run to her door the second the clock struck nine. Couldn’t risk her seeing the desperation in my eyes, the need that’s been clawing at my insides.
I exit the car and straighten my jacket. With each step toward her building, I rebuild my walls, seal the cracks in my composure. By the time I reach her door, I’ll be composed again.
I have to be.
Because the alternative—admitting how much I’ve missed her, how much I need her—is unthinkable.
I knock on her door with firm, unhurried raps. Assertive but not aggressive. I’ve calculated everything—from the timing of my arrival to the pressure of my knuckles against the wood.
When she opens the door, her eyes widen in surprise. “Landon.”
I push past her without waiting for an invitation, scanning her apartment. Everything exactly as I’ve seen through her cameras. “You didn’t disable my surveillance.”
“I know.” Her voice is steady. Too steady.
I turn, studying her face. She’s wearing loose pajama pants and a tank top. No makeup. Hair pulled back. She knew I was coming but chose not to prepare herself.
“You watched one of my BDSM videos.” Not a question.
“Yes.”
“And?”
Her eyes meet mine unflinchingly. “Is that what you want to do to me? Carve patterns into my skin while I’m restrained?”
A darkness pulses through me. “If I wanted to, I would have already.”
“What do you want at this time of night?” Sadie asks.
I shake my head. “The cooling-off period has ended. You’re mine now.”
She takes a deliberate step back, creating distance. “This isn’t the Hunt anymore.”
I close the gap between us. “The Hunt never ends, little butterfly. Not for people like us.”
“People like us?” Her eyebrow arches.
“Broken. Twisted.” I reach for her, but she sidesteps my touch.
“I’m not broken.” Her voice hardens. “And I’m not your property outside of Purgatory.”
I laugh, the sound scraping my throat. “You think there’s a difference?” I tap her forehead. “It’s all in here now. I’m in your head, just as you’re in mine.”
“I researched you,” she says abruptly. “Your company. Your brothers. Your... history.”
My jaw tightens. “And?”
“You’re obsessive. Controlling. Possibly psychopathic.” She tilts her head. “But you’re also brilliant. And you’re afraid.”
The accusation stings. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“You’re afraid of losing control.” She steps closer, invading my space now. “You’re afraid of needing me more than I need you.”
Her words slice through me like a scalpel, precise and sharp. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” I snarl.
Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her throat. Not squeezing—holding, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. The delicate column of her neck fits perfectly in my grasp, like she was made for this. For me.
Her eyes widen, pupils dilating until they nearly swallow the brown of her irises. But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t struggle. Instead, she tilts her chin up, exposing more of her throat to my grip.
“Don’t I?” she questions.
The apartment disappears around us. There’s only Sadie, only the heat radiating between us, only the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. My fingers tighten, feeling her swallow against my palm.
“You think you’ve figured me out after a few days? After watching one video?” I lean closer. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
But she does. That’s what infuriates me. What terrifies me. This woman—this brilliant, maddening woman—sees right through the walls I’ve spent decades constructing.
Her lips part. I feel her pulse quicken beneath my fingers, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. The air between us grows thick, charged with danger.
“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” she breathes. “The question is whether you’re brave enough to let me see it.”
My grip tightens at her challenge, and a small gasp escapes her lips.
I stare at her, rage and desire battling within me. Her challenge echoes in my mind.
Whether you’re brave enough to let me see it.
She thinks she wants to see all of me, but she has no idea what that means.
No one sees all of me and walks away.
“You want to see what I’m capable of?” I whisper, my thumb caressing the hollow of her throat. “You’re not ready.”
My hand slides into my jacket pocket, fingers wrapping around the syringe I prepared before coming here. I always have contingencies. Always plan three steps ahead. Tonight was no different.
The needle gleams in the low light as I pull it out. Recognition flashes in her eyes, followed by confusion, then pure terror.
“Wha—”
I yank her closer by the throat and bring the syringe to her neck. The needle punctures her skin with a satisfying resistance.
“No!” Sadie thrashes against me, her hands clawing at my arm, nails digging deep enough to draw blood. “Stop!”
I depress the plunger, emptying the sedative into her bloodstream. Her movements grow more frantic, wild with panic. She manages to break away, stumbling backward, hand flying to the injection site.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she screams, eyes wide. Her body sways as the drug begins to take effect. “Landon, what did you—”
She lunges at me, a desperate attack that’s easy to sidestep in her compromised state. Her coordination is already failing.
“You wanted to see me,” I say, watching as she grabs the edge of the counter to steady herself. “All of me. That’s what this is.”
“You fucking psycho,” she spits, fighting to stay upright as her knees buckle. “You can’t just—”
Her words slur as the sedative works through her system. She makes one final attempt to reach for her phone before she’s about to collapse, and I catch her in my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder, dark hair spilling over my arm. She’s lighter than I expected, fragile in unconsciousness.
“You should have known better than to challenge me,” I murmur, adjusting my grip as I move toward the door.
I glance around her apartment once more, confirming I’ve left no evidence. Precision in all things. I allow the heavy door to swing shut behind me, listening for the automatic lock to engage.
The hallway is mercifully empty as I carry her to the elevator. I positioned my car in the building’s blind spot, away from security cameras.
Cool night air hits my face as I exit the building. Sadie stirs slightly in my arms, a small moan escaping her lips. The sedative won’t wear off for hours, but I quicken my pace anyway.
“Almost there, little butterfly,” I whisper, approaching my matte black Audi.
I shift her weight to one arm, opening the passenger door with my free hand. Carefully, I lower her into the seat, positioning her head against the rest. Her skin looks pale in the dim parking lot lights, making the injection mark on her neck stand out.
I secure the seatbelt across her body, making sure it’s not too tight. My fingers linger at her collarbone, tracing the marks I left during the Hunt.
The driver’s side door closes with a soft thud as I settle behind the wheel. I start the engine, glancing at Sadie’s sleeping form beside me.
“You think you saw darkness at Purgatory?” I say to her sleeping figure, pulling out of the parking lot. “That was me on my best behavior.”
I navigate through empty streets toward my penthouse, streetlights casting shadows across her angelic face. What she experienced during the Hunt was a performance for the audience as much as for her.
But now? Now there are no witnesses. No brothers to intervene. No rules to follow.