Chapter 30
THIRTY
I feel his eyes before I see him, tugging me from dreams that suffocate. Shot back into reality which is somehow worse.
My nerves are shot and I’m fucking done. Either I’m escaping today or I’ll convince someone to put me down, but I’d rather die than let another man invade my body. And if it’s Eric? I’ll chew his dick off too.
And there he is, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me.
Seeing him is nauseating, made more so by the cage wall between us. As if I couldn’t be more humiliated than the last time he saw me. Strangely, there’s a softness in his eyes, just like the way he used to look at me. Before.
He’s totally still, non-threatening.
There’s a few moments where we stare each other down before he clears his throat. “Do you want to shower?”
It’s…not what I expected him to say. The offer is appealing as I’m still covered in the disgusting things left behind by the guards. If it’s a trap, then so be it.
I nod, and he leans forward to unlock the cage. The act is somehow more intimately degrading than being locked in by a stranger.
Crawling out, I rise to my feet, flinching at the deep ache in my muscles and watching as Eric heads into the bathroom to turn on the water for me. Cautiously, I scan the room for someone hiding in the shadows but it looks like we really are alone. He set me free and left my hands unbound.
As if he can hear the thought float into my head—I could kill him—he turns back to me, motioning for me to pass. His eyes stay on mine, not scanning the dried blood and crusty fluids coating my skin.
The water burns because he remembers that’s how I like my showers.
My open wounds don’t care for it but it’s purifying otherwise.
It doesn’t make sense but as the water sluices over my skin, it takes with it some of the hopelessness.
I’m not covered in the physical reminders of what’s happened.
Now, the stains are only mental and that can maybe be contained.
I decide to ignore the way Eric has propped himself against the counter, silently watching as I clean myself off, wash my face and lather my hair. All my soap and shampoo still sits on the shelves, which seems so odd.
Eventually, the water turns cold and I’m forced to leave this strange little oasis I’ve found to wrap myself in a towel and step into the harsh lights of the bathroom.
Eric is still silent, so I take the time to grab my lotion from the cupboard and slowly coat my skin in it. I almost feel human after and I watch in the mirror as I comb the tangles from my hair.
“Where’s Bo?” I finally ask when it becomes clear he’s got nothing to say.
His mouth twitches toward a frown. “He’s here.”
My heart jumps, eyes blowing wide as I turn to face him. “He’s okay?”
“He’s alive.” He amends my question and I deflate. It’s wildly obvious from the way his eyes glue to the floor that he’s uncomfortable talking about Bo.
Oh, that’s right. What he did to Bo is common knowledge now. He doesn’t like that I know.
“You lied,” I say, letting the details go unsaid. He’s lied about so many things, I’m not sure where to begin.
Maybe with being a pedophile.
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You have to understand, Emma, I did everything for you.”
I blink. “What…what did you just say?”
He looks me up and down. “Emma, look at this house. This yard. The furniture, everything. You chose all of this. It was exactly what you wanted.”
I brush past him, moving to my dresser and dragging open the drawer. It’s stuffed full of my favorite sundresses, because nobody was here to switch out the summer clothing for the winter box on the top shelf of my closet. I snatch up the yellow plaid print and fling it over my head.
I did everything for you. Another lie. Another gaslight. I’m so sick of men and the way they try to twist everything, like I’m not smart enough to see what they’re doing.
Jaw clenched, I turn on him, hating how he’s casually leaning against the counter like he hasn’t broken me. Like he didn’t just let me out of a locked dog cage so we could have this conversation.
I motion to my entire body, bruised, scraped, abused. “Thank you, Eric. This is exactly what I wanted. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”
He huffs and looks at the floor. “You sound so different now.”
“Different like my life is over? Like I’ve been kidnapped twice now, thanks to you?
” I rush forward to get in his face. The indignant anger swells until I need the conflict, some sort of release for the pain.
His eyes widen at my nerves and I hate that even more, my next words bursting out in a shout.
“Like my husband pulling down my underwear so that all those men could rape me?”
They end on a jagged scream and I watch him closely as my chest rises and falls.
I’ve caught him off guard. Never have I raised my voice to Eric. Any issue I had was handled with a soft questioning, making it eternally easy for him to be around me. Quieting myself to keep him comfortable.
Not now. The room shakes with my words. Like they matter.
“I didn't mean for things to go this way, Emma. It was good, until everything blew up,” he says, brushing me back. I see the crack in his gentle facade, and I love it. “I didn’t have a choice. By the time I realized what I’d gotten into with Bundy it was too late for me to go back.”
I laugh in his face, relishing the way he jerks away from it.
He had so many years to be a fucking monster without having to answer for it in any way.
Having a family that was willing to cover up your every indiscretion would do that to a man.
“So you’re blaming Bundy for hurting Bo as a kid, huh?
You're blaming him for you being a goddamn pedophile? You got that girl pregnant, Eric! You did that, all on your own. You lied to me about getting a vasectomy? You lied about everything. I never knew who you were.”
Another nerve hit and he snarls at my narrowed eyes, standing tall.
“You did! You had me, the best part of me.” The words sound desperate and fall to the floor when I don’t accept the lies.
Shaking his head, he pauses for a moment, then looks back to me with defeat in the lines of his face.
“I’ve never been a good person, Emma. Never.
That’s why our arrangement was made by our parents.
Mine needed to improve my image after what happened…
after Bo.” He swallows thickly as my eyes narrow.
“You did that. But I always meant what I felt for you. I tried to save the good in me for this house, for you.”
I shake my head, rejecting him and turning away. He’ll just keep twisting reality to play the victim and it’s disgusting. “You’re pathetic.” I laugh, heading for the bedroom. “I can't even look at you.”
Fuck him. He said Bo was here and he’s not doing well. I need to figure out how to get us out.
“You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve,” he says, quiet enough that I barely hear him.
But I do and the insinuation that I’ve done something to wrong him pulls me back into the fight.
“Judging me. Hating me. You had a soft life here, you know. And the second you were in the hands of another man, you gave him everything, didn’t you? ”
My face flushes. With anger and maybe a flash of embarrassment. Not because I feel caught, like I’d cheated. It’s like a stranger witnessed an intimate moment between me and a lover. It’s not his right to comment on what me and Noah have, on what we do.
“Noah’s shown me more in these past few months than you ever did. I was a toy for you, just like Bo was. You made sure both of us were dependent on you for everything, just like you liked it.”
“Isolation might have been better for you, if you were going to spread your legs for everyone in the house.”
It’s a slap in the face but I have no idea why it shocks me. He’s a narcissist and losing one of his playthings will bring out the worst in him.
“So what?” I ask, suddenly tired of this conversation, this day, of the pointlessness in arguing with someone who has no moral gauge. “Are you going to kill us?”
“No, Emma. I’m merely explaining why I’ve decided that officially giving you to Bundy is the right choice.
I felt so guilty at first, because you were such a sweet, perfect little wife.
But he reminded me how quickly you whored yourself out for that third rate Robin Hood group of yours, and now I almost want to see you ruined.
Just a bit,” he says, motioning with his hand a small amount, like it’s a joke.
"At least now you’re a little nicer looking for him.
That’s the version he wanted. The pretty blonde in a sundress.
Not the desecrated mess that he saw before. ”
Oh, so the charade is finally over. It’s the real Eric here now, and even though I knew it was in there somewhere, it’s scary to see him step into it so seamlessly.
Two gunshots ring out in the hallway, and I stumble backward, hitting the wall. The bedroom door opens slowly, completely at odds with the scene outside of them. Blood splatters the wood, dropping down the crystal doorknobs I’d scoured the local antique stores to find.
Bundy stands there, those inhuman eyes pinning me down. The gun in his hand hangs at his side and I let myself study it and the two dead bodies he’s standing over. They must have been guarding my door.
Why is he killing his men?
“Ah, I see you’ve gotten her ready.”
My heart flies but I’m ready to fight. Death isn’t enough of a deterrent anymore to make me act the way they want.
“Yes, just remembering good times, weren’t we?” Eric answers, looking back at me with that fucking fake smile on his face.
I snarl, taking a step back. Trying to keep them both in my line of vision. Something had gone wrong. He’s erasing witnesses.
Bundy doesn’t step toward me though, instead turning to Eric and grimly looking him over.
“It would appear that we’ve lost contact with Alpha and Beta houses. I’ve sent a few men to go check out the situation, but I would hazard a guess that it's not good for us.”
My heart jumps. It’s got Noah written all over it.
“What? Do you think it's law enforcement? Do we need to go?”
Bundy steps into the room, avoiding the blood puddles growing on the floor.
“Maybe. If I had to guess, though, I would say it’s much more likely to be Mercy’s men.
My little threat of a daily gang-rape must not have been enough to keep them compliant.
” He smiles at me and that brief glowing feeling dies.
“That’s my fault. I should have known you were more than a fuck toy to them when they pretended you were dead.
I’ll admit that little ploy would have fooled me if it wasn’t for Landon’s pettiness.
He just resented the way that their leadership risked their lives for a little slut like you so much.
Enough to stop giving them the little crumbs of intel I told him to pass on and decide to just blow the entire organization to pieces. ”
Oh, that piece of shit. If I ever see him after this, I’ll make sure Noah makes him pay. “It’s probably not because of me,” I say, mouth dry. “It’s probably because you’re a monster who’s forcing all those people into being trafficked. They don’t like that.”
“It’s adorable that you think they're doing good, saving the day. The second they kill me there will be another person filling that void. The demand never goes away, Emma. It’s important to know that.
Maybe I’m not a monster, but just a businessman who knows a marketable product when I see one. ” His eyes rove over me.
“He’ll take his time with you. After what you did to us and to Lily.” I hide my fear with a smirk. “I wish I could be here to watch.”
Bundy tuts. “You’ve hardened even more, its quite ugly on you. Shame. Anyway, I’ve got a plane to catch and since it doesn’t look like you’ll come quietly with me, I’m going to just have to kill the both of you.”
Eric looks at him with wide eyes but I immediately know who he means.
Me and Bo. My body reacts before my brain can catch up and I dart to the side of the bed where my nightstand houses the only weapon I kept while Eric was out of town.
Snatching the hunting knife in my hand feels ridiculous when paired against a gun, but the thought of dying without taking at least one of them with me is even worse.
It will give Bo a better chance to survive if I can manage it. Noah too, if he’s coming for us.
Bundy just laughs, like I’ve done something adorable.
“She’s quite tenacious, I’ll give her that.
I wish I had more time to spare, Emma, I’d love to break you in correctly.
The wolfish smile is back on his face and seeing it again sends a cold chill through me.
“I just know that fucking tearing you to pieces would be the highlight of my year.”
The handle of the knife is clutched tightly in my clammy hand and my heart pounds. I can't make the first move, he’ll just shoot me.
Eric does it for me, standing and walking my way like Bundy’s given him a wordless command. Panic ratchets into my throat as I hold the knife between us, wishing to God I had anything else to use against him.
He keeps stalking toward me like he doesn’t really think I’ll use it against him, but there’s no time left to think. Slashing quickly at his chest, I gasp wide-eyed as he merely sneers at the flesh wound before slamming me against the nightstand, my back bending as it digs into my spine.
The pain against my already battered body is blinding but I bring the knife down again and feel it dig into his side, ripping through his skin. I scream as he elbows me in the face, his arm breaking against mine until I’m pinned completely.
Huffing from the struggle, he manages to get his other forearm against my throat, cutting off my oxygen as he wrestles the knife from me and throws it to the ground.
Face only an inch away from mine, Eric’s eyes watch as the pain steals the fight from me. He eats it up hungrily, breathing heavy and smiling. “Now, now, Emma. I know you remember how you treat me in this house. Keep that pretty mouth shut and get on the bed.”