Chapter 32 Sadie
SADIE
The code on my screen blurs as my concentration wavers. My eyes burn from staring at the monitor for hours, but work provides the only escape from my reality. From him.
My phone buzzes again—the eighth time in two hours. Jolene.
Sadie, please just let me know you’re okay. I’m worried sick.
Call me back, I swear I’ll call the police if I don’t hear from you soon.
This isn’t like you. Did something happen after the Hunt?
If only she knew. I type a quick response:
I’m fine. Just busy with work. Talk soon.
The lie is bitter.
Landon had all my belongings moved here two days ago—clothes, laptop, even my robot figurine collection.
Like he was erasing any evidence of my independent life.
At least my boss agreed when I called to request working remotely for personal reasons.
He values my work enough not to question the sudden change.
The door swings open without a knock. Landon strides in wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket, his presence overwhelming the room. I keep typing, refusing to acknowledge him.
“Get ready,” he announces. “There’s a street race tonight. I’m competing.”
I stare at my screen. “I have work to do.”
“Work can wait.” His voice carries that familiar edge—the one that expects immediate compliance.
“No, it can’t. This code needs to be finished by morning.”
He moves behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I stiffen but don’t pull away, knowing it would only provoke him.
“You need to get out,” he says, massaging my tense muscles. “You’ve been at that computer all day.”
“I said no.” The words come out firm. “I can’t leave my computer for something as trivial as watching you and your brothers risk your necks.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and oppressive. Since that night—when he drugged me, carved his initials into my skin, and violated me while I was unconscious—we’ve been locked in this strange battle. I try to preserve a fragment of autonomy, but he wants it all—every last piece of me.
I hear him exhale sharply. “Fine. Work.” His frustration is palpable as he walks toward the door, pausing before he leaves. “I’ll be back late.”
The door closes with a quiet click rather than a slam. Small victories in this prison feel hollow, but I’ll take them wherever I can.
The moment the door closes, I feel a weight lift from my chest. The penthouse feels less suffocating. I check the time—just after seven. If he’s racing tonight, he won’t be back until the early morning hours.
I grab my phone and stare at Jolene’s messages, guilt washing over me. She’s my best friend, and I’ve been keeping her in the dark about everything. About what he did to me. What he’s still doing.
Before I can overthink it, I dial her number.
“Sadie! Thank God!” Relief floods her voice. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “Listen, are you free tonight? Landon’s out at some street race. I could really use a friend right now.”
“Of course. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I close my eyes, fighting back tears. “Not really. But I can’t explain over the phone. Could you come over? We could get takeout, and I’ll... I’ll tell you everything.”
“Text me the address. I’ll be there in an hour with Chinese food. Is that okay?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Jo.”
After sending Landon’s penthouse address, I head to the bathroom. The woman in the mirror looks like a stranger—pale, with dark circles under her eyes. I pull the collar of my shirt down, revealing the angry red “LB” carved below my collarbone.
I open the closet and search through my clothes, pulling out a high-necked sweater that will cover every mark he’s given me. There are other bruises too—on my wrists, my throat, my thighs. I select loose jeans and examine myself critically after putting them on.
Everything is covered. Jolene won’t see what he’s done to me.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. For the first time since the Hunt ended, I’ll have an ally in this nightmare. Someone who knows the real me—not the version of myself I’m becoming.
I sit down on the sofa and flip through channels, barely registering what’s on the screen. Some reality show about home renovations blends into a cooking competition, then a crime drama. The noise provides a comforting backdrop to my racing thoughts. What will I tell Jolene? How much can I reveal?
The doorbell rings, sending my heart into my throat. I cross the spacious living room, my footsteps echoing on the marble floors. Through the peephole, I see Jolene’s familiar face, bags of Chinese food hanging from her hands.
I swing the door open, and she immediately pulls me into a hug, the food bags bumping against my back.
“Oh my God, Sadie!” She steps back, eyes wide as she takes in the penthouse behind me. “What the hell is going on? And why are you suddenly living like a millionaire in the swankiest apartment I’ve ever seen?”
I usher her inside, taking the food bags and placing them on the kitchen island. “It’s... complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jolene spins around, gawking at the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering city below. “This place must cost more than I’d make in twenty years!”
I haven’t had time to appreciate the luxury surrounding me. The sleek furniture, the expensive art, the breathtaking views—none of it matters when you’re a prisoner.
“It doesn’t feel like home to me,” I admit, unpacking the containers of food.
Jolene stops her exploration, turning to face me. “What happened, Sadie?”
I take a deep breath. “Remember the Hunt that I told you about? Well, Landon caught me. He’s... claimed me for a year. It was in the contract I signed.”
“Claimed you? What does that even mean?”
“It means I belong to him. Legally, according to the contract.” My fingers rise to my collarbone. “I have to live here, with him. I have to do what he says.”
Jolene’s face transforms from confusion to horror. “That sounds fucked-up, Sadie. Contract or not, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
I shake my head, crossing to the couch and sinking into its plush cushions. “I signed an NDA and a contract, Jo. I didn’t—” My voice catches. “I disregarded the one-year claiming that was in the small print, thinking it was unlikely to happen.”
“So what? You are basically like a prisoner for a year?”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends.
“I signed it. Everything that’s happening is technically within the terms I agreed to.
” What I don’t want to admit is that deep down, I have no desire to run or escape.
That Landon is right. What we have is exactly what I’ve been missing all this time.
Jolene sits beside me, her expression fierce. “That’s bullshit. No contract in the world can legally force you to stay with someone.”
I stare at my hands.
“Is he treating you badly?” Jolene asks, reaching for my hand. “Has he hurt you?”
The question hangs between us. I think about the initials carved into my skin, the night I woke disoriented with him already inside me, the endless surveillance, the threats. I think about how sometimes he’s almost gentle, and how that confuses me even more than the cruelty.
“He’s a bit unhinged,” The words tumble out in a whisper. “Landon doesn’t really care about boundaries.”
Jolene grabs my hand. “What has he done to you?”
I pull away, wrapping my arms around myself. “Nothing really.”
Jolene shifts closer. “Sadie, whatever he’s done, it’s not your fault.”
The shame burns deeper than his knife ever could. How can I possibly tell her that beneath everything lives a darkness that I’ve never admitted to anyone—not even myself?
“It’s not what he’s done,” I say, my voice barely audible. “It’s... how I’ve responded to it.”
“What do you mean?”
My fingers trace the outline of his initials beneath my sweater. “The things he does—most people would say they are cruel and wrong.” I swallow hard. “But...” I hesitate. “I’m drawn to him in ways I can’t explain with logic.”
Jolene stays silent, waiting.
“The other night,” I continue, “he drugged me. I woke up with him already—” I can’t finish the sentence, but Jo’s sharp intake of breath tells me she understands.
“That’s assault, Sadie. Plain and simple.”
I shake my head. “But when I woke up, feeling him inside me, I wasn’t disgusted. I wanted him so badly.” I hate the way my cheeks flame at admitting this to her. “What kind of person does that make me?”
“It makes you human,” Jolene says. “Some people respond to it. Did you have a conversation with him about it beforehand?”
I think back and shake my head. “Not exactly, but during the Hunt, we... we acted out a lot of scenarios. Resistance. Force. Me saying no while my body said yes.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I got off on it. That’s the sick truth I haven’t wanted to admit.”
The fact is I wanted it. I crave Landon’s brutality, even being owned by him. The way he watches me, tracks me, knows everything about me. The way he forces pleasure from my body.
“Maybe he did it because of that. Because he knew you’d enjoy it?” she suggests.
I hate myself for it—this twisted need he’s awakened. More than I hate him.
“I’m so fucked up, Jo,” I whisper. “Sometimes I think he sees the damage that was always in me—the part that lines up with his.”
Jolene squeezes my hand. “I get it. I’d never judge you for that. You could have told me.”
“I know, I just felt so ashamed.”
“Don’t be,” Jolene states, shaking her head. “We all have our kinks. I never told you I love being tied up and spanked. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”
I laugh at that. Always trust Jolene to make light of a situation.
I pull my hands away. “Landon sees me—the real me. Not just the person I show to the world. He sees the darkness I’ve been hiding for so many years.”
“And do you care about him?”
It’s a good question. Can I care about a man like him? Deep down, I am scared of the answer.
“He gives me what he knows I want, even when I’m too afraid to admit it to myself. Landon doesn’t see me as broken. He sees me as perfectly matched to his own darkness.”
Jolene stares at me. “Do you believe that?”
Deep inside, in places I let no one see, I know the truth. Vanilla relationships, like the one I had with Melvin, left me hollow—going through motions without feeling. The problem wasn’t just him; it was me. A part of me has always craved an intensity most people would find disturbing.
Landon doesn’t try to fix me or pretend my brokenness isn’t there.
How could I ever confess this to Jolene—that maybe I need someone like Landon? That his control, his cruelty, the way he drives me past every boundary, makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever been?
I hate that some part of me recognizes his sickness as the perfect complement to my own. That beneath all my fear and anger, there’s a voice whispering that no one else will ever understand the darkest corners of my mind the way he does.
The thought of telling him terrifies me even more than telling Jolene. Giving him that knowledge would be handing over the last piece of myself. It would be admitting defeat—or worse, admitting that we truly are made of the same twisted material.
I could never be happy in a normal relationship. I see that now. The realization sits like ice in my stomach.
I shrug, looking away from Jolene’s searching eyes. “I think I do.” It’s a half-truth, as I believe it with all my heart. He may be a monster, but so am I.