Chapter 26
THE FINAL ACT
EMERY
Fifteen hours remain until my untimely death.
That’s nine hundred minutes. Fifty-four thousand seconds. I need to make every fucking millisecond count. It’s time. These past four days have brought me to this exact moment.
It’s now or never.
Literally.
If this doesn’t work, I’ll never have the chance to do anything ever again.
I’ve played my part perfectly. I’ve laid down the foundation.
And on that foundation, I’ve built the most gorgeous structure.
It’s made out of malleable trust. The kind I can twist and bend to my will.
She doesn’t know that. She thinks it’s made out of iron, or steel, or platinum.
But that was the goal. She’s so unaware that it’s almost funny. And I almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
But then I remember that she bashed a crowbar against my head and locked me in a dirty basement.
I don’t feel bad after that thought.
Moonlight trickles into the room, casting shadows as I sit chained to the cold, unforgiving floor. Unforgiving. Like me. I straighten out my shoulders and quietly clear my throat.
Alright. It's time. I need to draw Toni closer, hit her where it truly hurts.
I’m ready.
A subtle sniffle escapes me, a feigned sign of vulnerability.
Toni shifts in her chair, her gaze momentarily flickering toward me, but she remains silent.
Undeterred, I turn up my performance, forcing tears to trickle down my cheeks, the moonlight catching the shimmering trails of a beautiful final act.
As the quiet sobs increase, I glance up at Toni, pleading for a connection. I’m playing a very delicate role, the sort of manipulation that requires finesse. Through thick, salty tears, I catch a glint of something in her gaze, a storm of concern, and I seize the opportunity.
My cries grow louder, my breathing more erratic. Like a poor, helpless woman on the verge of a total breakdown.
She buys it. Of course, she does. I’ve always been an expert on supply and demand.
Toni turns away from her computer, worry etched across her features.
"Breathe," she says. "You need to breathe, bella."
I don't.
Instead, I choke on my tears and pretend to hyperventilate. Unable to resist my theatrics any longer, Toni scrambles off her chair and rushes toward me.
“Emery.” She kneels before me, like a good little puppet, and places a palm on my back, searching my damp face for answers. “What is wrong? Please, breathe, bella. You need to—”
I mentally crack my knuckles and crumble under the fabricated despair.
"I don't want to die," I sob, the words strained and rehearsed.
"I don't want to die, Toni. I-I’ve barely lived. He… He's not going to pay. I know he’s not going to pay.” My head feels light from all the dramatics, but I continue.
“I'm going to die. He... He won't pay. I know he won't. I'm... I'm worthless. "
“Emery, please,” Toni tries to soothe me. “You need to calm down. You need to—”
She thinks that I’m weak. And I use it. I use that perceived weakness as a weapon, a tool. I let the tears flow freely, my shoulders shaking with every manufactured sob.
"No. You were wrong, Toni," I wail. "You're wrong. He won't pay.” The basement rattles with my sobs as I draw in my captivated audience. “I’m nothing, Toni. You don’t believe me but it’s true. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here, alone and worthless.
God, why me? Why is this happening to me? ”
Luna pats me on the back. Jesus Christ. I’m a natural-born talent.
“You are not nothing, Emery,” Toni whispers, her own damn eyes glossy.
Oh my God… Is she crying? This is going better than I anticipated.
"No one's ever loved me, Toni," I whimper. "I'm just a toy they play with then throw away. I'm disposable, Toni. You were wrong. So wrong…"
“Stop saying that, Emery. That’s not true.
You are special, Emery Jones. You are so…
” She swallows, her raw gaze flitting across my face, a hunger in her eyes that she can no longer conceal.
She lifts a tentative hand, cupping my cheek, her thumb stroking the river of tears streaming down my face. “So very special.”
"You’re wrong, Toni. I’m not. I’m nothing," I cry, my voice laced with sorrow and yearning. A cocktail mixed just for Toni. “You took the wrong woman. You…”
Toni lets out a long breath as her fingers turn rigid on my skin.
Her nails comb through my hairline, scratching against my scalp, tugging at my roots.
“No, I did not.” Her chest rises and falls, her dark gaze staring at my parted, quivering lips.
And then, with a tenderness that catches me off guard for a second, she lurches forward and kisses me.
She fucking kisses me.
Houston, we’ve made contact.
Despite knowing it’s all an act, my heart still races as her lips crush against mine, soft yet urgent, and I find myself reveling in the sensation. But I check myself. Not yet. One more hoop.
She needs to earn it.
After a beat, I feign shock and pull back.
I gasp as if I didn’t plan for this to happen. “What… What are you…” My gaze shifts to the door. “What about…?”
Toni grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. Breathless and starved for more, she grunts, "Nothing else matters, bella." Toni swallows. "I know what I want." A charged pause. "Tell me... What do you want?"
To escape.
I pretend to think about it, forcing a bashful expression, and then I whisper, "I want you, Toni. I want..."
Toni's lips crash onto mine again, but this time her kiss isn’t soft. It's hard like stone and diamonds and bricks. Heavy. So fucking heavy that it nearly crushes my composure.
Our mouths meld together, tongues dancing and twirling and flicking, and I almost forget that I hate this fucking woman. But my hatred only fuels me, makes me crazy for a taste of her, for a small, decadent bite of revenge.
Toni's hands snake around my waist, pulling me closer as the heat between us intensifies.
I can taste her desperation, her need to touch me, taint me, consume me, and I’ll let it happen. I’ll let her have me. She can drink in every ounce of me until she’s full. Until she’s bloated. Until she’s gagging on her own lust and gluttony.
Soft moans escape our lips between breaths, my hands finding their way into Toni's hair. I tug on her roots, pulling her closer to me. Toni's fingers tug on the zipper of my jacket. She wants more. More contact. More skin. More of me.
Eager to please my oh-so-gullible captor, I reach forward, fumbling with the zipper before successfully pulling the jacket off.
My T-shirt follows. Cool air kisses my exposed skin, and I swallow, reaching for the hem of Toni’s sweater.
When I see the embers burning in her eyes, I yank it off, wanting to create a damn wildfire.
Our bodies press together, the hunger palpable as we kiss, her tongue taking charge, making her think that she’s in control.
So foolish. So perfect. Toni's fingers trail down my spine, and my skin tingles as I revel in the sensation of being wanted.
This may be a performance, but I seem to enjoy being a method actor.
Toni’s expert hands explore my body, and she knows exactly where to touch me, which spots will make me squirm. She pulls her lips off mine and dips down, latching onto my nipples, the suction sending a zap straight to my core. Oh God…
I can't help but throw my head back, a throaty moan escaping as pleasure courses through me.
Breathless and wanting, I remind myself of the task at hand. We’re ninety percent at our finish line. Just ten more to go. I know she wants every inch of me, and I want to give it to her. That’s my prize. I get something out of it too.
Letting out a deep, guttural moan, I attempt to shift farther up the mattress, my muscles straining against the restrictive chain that binds me.
The metal holds me back. I force myself to jerk.
A deliberate motion that Toni doesn’t catch.
Of course, she doesn’t. She’s too busy kissing my skin, tasting me.
I try again, pausing, pretending to look frustrated, and then she comes up for air, looking up at me, our eyes locked.
My gaze floats to the chain, a silent plea for her to untie me. I swallow, genuinely nervous about what she’ll do next. She stares at me for several loaded beats, and then her gaze flits down my glistening, sweaty body until she notices my soaked panties.
“Please…” It comes out in a pathetic, desperate whisper.
It’s just what she needs to hear.
Without uttering a word, Toni concedes to my whimpering plea. She reaches for a key in the pocket of her discarded sweater. My breath catches in my throat.
Yes. Do it. Unlock me. Fucking do it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the key finds its way into the lock. With a click, the chain releases and I’m free.
I’m free to make Toni my little toy.
“On your back,” Toni breathes, smoky and depraved. She guides me farther onto the mattress. “Open your legs for me, Emery Jones. I want to taste you.”
Or I’ll be her toy.
Either way.
I win.
Toni slithers toward me like a rattlesnake, and I let her bite me. I buck my hips as she slides my panties off, tossing them to the side, and then I lay there naked and ready to become her feast.
Her lips and tongue and teeth drag against the apex of my thigh, and I moan, squirming under her control. Her fingers are delicate, much more calculated and thorough than any partner I’ve had before. She touches me like I’d touch myself. She knows my body. She knows what I want.
Her hot breath fans against my skin, against my sex, and then she surges forward, devouring me, so starved, so beastly, and so fucking stupid.
I drag my fingers through her tangled curls, holding her in place, making her deepen the pressure. That’s right, Toni. Own me. Take me. Consume me until you cannot stand. Until you cannot walk. Cannot talk. Cannot see. Cannot fucking breathe.
Enjoy yourself, Toni. Drink in my poison. For come tomorrow, I won’t be the one chained to a fucking mattress.
You will.