Chapter 7 – Jennie #2
I start at the back, running my fingers along the brick, pressing on any section that looks even slightly uneven. A loose tile. A hollow thud. A draft.
Nothing.
My fingers start to go numb, but I keep searching, pushing against the walls and squinting into the shadows.
I don’t have a plan beyond this—I just need to find something. An opening. A passage. A crack in the armor.
I keep searching.
My hands are raw from dragging over stone, fingertips tender from pressing against every uneven groove in the cellar wall.
My breath clouds the air in front of me, sharp and cold, but my skin is slick with sweat beneath my hoodie.
I don’t know how long I’ve been down here—an hour?
Maybe more. The cold has sunk into my bones.
I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I crouch beside an old wine rack and tap the wall behind it.
Just in case. I drag it slightly to the side, gritting my teeth as the wood screeches against the floor, but nothing waits behind it.
No door. No handle. No magical escape route that frees kidnapped brides from the clutches of brutal, psychotic husbands.
A sob catches in my throat.
I press a hand to my chest, willing myself to keep it together, but my eyes blur anyway. A hot tear slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, furious with myself. Crying won’t help. I need to think. I need to focus.
I rest my forehead against the wall, the stone icy against my skin. “Please,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure who I’m begging. God? Fate?
I breathe through the ache, trying to push the panic back down.
But for the first time since I said yes, it hits me fully—I’m trapped. Locked inside a castle I didn’t choose, married to a man I can’t understand, and completely alone.
“How long will you keep searching? You’ll never find escape.”
I gasp and whirl around so fast I nearly trip. Adrian’s standing there—no sound, no warning—just him, watching me with that unreadable expression and eyes dark as sin. I didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear footsteps. He’s just…there.
I stumble back until my spine hits the cold stone, breath caught in my throat. My heart slams wildly against my ribs, fear rushing through me like wildfire.
He doesn’t stop.
He comes closer, slow and steady, like a storm rolling in. His footsteps echo against the floor, measured and precise, like he has all the time in the world to devour me.
Then he’s in front of me.
He presses his body against mine, one hand braced beside my head on the wall, the other curling loosely around my waist—not tight, not yet, but enough to cage me in. His breathing is harsh, ragged. The air shifts between us, thick with heat and danger.
“I could hear your little footsteps from upstairs,” he says softly, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw. “So desperate. So fucking reckless.”
“Get off me,” I breathe, trying to push him away, but it’s useless. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Is this how you planned to repay me?” he murmurs, his voice like velvet soaked in venom. “Sneaking through my house in the dead of night? Hunting for doors that don’t exist?”
“You’re insane,” I whisper, and I hate how my voice trembles.
Adrian leans in, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear. “You said that once already, Mrs. Rusnak. But I think we both know…you haven’t seen anything yet.”
I try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens—not enough to hurt me, just enough to remind me that I’m not going anywhere unless he allows it.
Adrian’s eyes blaze as he stares down at me. There’s something different in them now—darker, sharper. A warning curled in heat. He’s angry. Furious. And somehow, the more furious he is, the quieter he gets.
He turns me around with terrifying ease, my back pressing against his chest, his arm locked across my waist. I feel his breath at my neck, feel the tension radiating from him like a live wire.
“This is your one warning,” he growls against my skin, his lips grazing the edge of my jaw.
I flinch, heart hammering.
Then—he spins me again, facing him. Our lips almost meet. Almost.
His mouth is barely a whisper away from mine, the heat of it branding me. Our breaths mix. His knuckles brush my cheek. His eyes search mine, wild and unreadable. I’m frozen, caught in the snare of something that terrifies me—and burns me alive.
Then I snap.
I slap him, hard, my palm stinging from the impact. He barely reacts. Only his jaw tightens, a quiet fury rising off him like smoke.
“I hate you,” I hiss, shoving against his chest, trying to get free.
But he pins me back effortlessly, his hand on my hip, his voice a low, deadly murmur. “Do that again, and I’ll show you what pain really is.”
“Let me go.”
His gaze drags down my face. “If I ever catch you sneaking around this house again, trying to escape,” he says slowly, “you’ll pay, Jennie. In ways that will make you beg me for mercy.”
I shiver, fear coiling in my stomach.
He lets go abruptly, like I burn him, turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows as silently as he came.
And I finally breathe.