35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
HARLOW
Moments tick by where I stand with my blood-spattered feet dangerously close to where the ground meets nothing but air, patiently waiting for my body to come down from the adrenaline rush that’s been powering my every move since I took off running.
The steady crash of coastal waves kissing the cliffside lulls me into a daze as a cool spring breeze sweeps through, lifting the free strands of my ebony hair into a levitated dance.
Peeking over the edge of the jagged cliffside, I stare down at the sloshing black water below me.
It’s deep and cold and deadly. All-consuming.
No doubt if I were to jump, I’d be sucked under by the current and my limp body would be repeatedly slammed against the rocks until I’m a sack of fleshy pulp.
A smile splits my face in two.
I wonder how long it would take the police to find my corpse.
Days? Months? Or maybe I’d become fish food and never be seen again.
It’s a thought that amuses me.
I stand there a little while longer, staring out at the navy water and watching the storm roll in, somehow feeling at peace even though my life has become something from a horror film.
Sparing the ocean one final glance, I decide I need to keep moving, my bare feet sinking into the soft soil as a shiver racks my body.
I’ve had dreams of what it would feel like to be buried beneath several feet of earth. The bugs. The moisture.
The rot.
Another shiver rolls through me, this one causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention. With my instincts flaring, I pause, the crippling fear of what’s behind me slicing through my resolve like a hot knife.
I covered my tracks the best I could. But was it enough?
I get my answer when a sharp whistle echoes through the trees.
It’s followed swiftly by all the wind being knocked from my lungs.
They found me.
They always fucking find me.
Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.
The quick flick of a blade. The searing burn of flesh splitting open. The raw, relentless throb that always followed immediately after.
They did that to me. Over and over again until I begged for death. Until I pleaded and sobbed and desperately clawed at them to show even an ounce of mercy on my soul.
But since luck has never been on my side, death never came for me. And they just laughed in my face when I’d ask for it.
So instead, I suffered through every breath I took, eventually learning to dissociate until it was over.
It was the only way I could survive the assaults.
Then I was left alone again, in the dark with my legs bleeding and the evidence of their sick depravities seeping from the battered space between my thighs, while I used whatever filthy cloth I was given to clean my wounds.
Two. One.
Breathe.
It doesn’t take long for rage to come crashing in, washing away the remnants of the initial shock and fear I felt when I realized exactly where I’d seen that sharp, craggy cliff in the painting in Lynx’s mudroom before.
And now, all I can taste on the tip of my tongue is the sweet zest of revenge. The tangy sting of death.
Whether it’s their death or mine no longer matters to me.
As long as it all fucking ends because I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle.
“Harlow,” Lily chirps, rising from her seat on the couch. “Dinner’s being served shortly. You can sit beside me.”
Two. One.
Smile.
“Okay.”
Lily beams brightly at me as I tip my chin and follow her lead into the empty dining room, feeling Lynx hot on my heels as he closes in on me from behind.
“Allow me,” he murmurs into my hair while pulling my chair out and gesturing for me to sit.
Smoothing my hands down my dress, I ignore the burning sensation at the back of my throat and fold myself neatly into the chair, my spine straight and eyes cast downward at the steak knife placed beside my dinner plate, my fingers itching to grab it and keep it close in case I need it.
Lynx helps Lily into her chair next, then takes his seat on the other side of me.
I exhale a controlled breath and force my attention upward to Severo walking into the dining room.
Except he’s not alone.
All the tiny hairs on my body stand on end, every cell buzzing to life as a heady cocktail of anxiety, adrenaline, and rage blurs my vision.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
Hunched over beside Severo is an older man. Crippled. Wrinkly. Fucking vile.
Holding him upright is a cane, the handle adorned with a dragon head with red marble eyes that glare at me like it knows something I don’t.
Two. One.
Breathe.
Franklin Fitzgerald the fucking third. The one that got away because Lynx caught me in the alley behind The Devil’s Den before I had a chance to make my move.
Confusion and a whole boatload of panic filter in.
What’s he doing here? Am I being set up?
Does Severo know who he is? Does Lily?
Does fucking Lynx?
And so my spiral begins, around and around and around, a million horrific questions flying through my brain while I sit still as a statue, staring in terror at the monster who led me to my doom.
And he’s fucking smiling, his snake eyes darting over my face briefly before wandering to Lynx. Then Lily.
Severo’s hand slides over Franklin’s shoulder. They’re familiar.
“This is Franklin, an old friend I haven’t seen in years. Franklin, this is Lynx, my nephew. Lily, his sister—my niece. And this is Harlow.” He gestures to me, and I feel a wave of heat flood my face. “Lynx’s girlfriend. Franklin will be joining us for dinner.”
Severo finds his spot at the head of the table, leaning casually in his wingback chair as Franklin takes the seat beside him, directly across from Lynx and I.
He’s playing it cool, not paying me too much mind while masquerading as an innocent old man that’s lonely for Thanksgiving.
I glance at the steak knife again, a red haze closing in around my vision just as something big and warm settles on my thigh. Lynx’s hand.
He squeezes reassuringly and leans in to whisper, “I know, pretty girl. Just breathe. It’ll be over soon.”
My breath hitches, but my eyes remain glued on his hand. At the stark contrast between his tanned, rugged hand and my pale thigh littered with faded scars.
I peek up at him to find him gazing at me with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.
He studies me for a beat before feigning ignorance and joining the conversation between Severo and Franklin. But his hand never leaves my thigh.
And the steak knife on the table in front of me never leaves my mind.
Clearing my throat, I excuse myself to use the restroom, desperate for a moment of quiet before I do something irrational. Like throw myself across the dining table and stab Franklin right here and now.
But before I rise to leave, Lynx tightens his grip on my thigh and mutters into my ear, “Don’t you dare remove the vibrator.”
Swallowing around the rocks in my throat, I stand on shaky legs, swipe the steak knife off the table, tuck it at my side, and saunter off down the hall to the washroom to lock myself inside.
Looming over the sink, I run my hands under cold water and splash a little on my neck to cool the lava coursing through me.
I want to kill him. No. I need to kill him. I need to flay him wide open and expose the cold, evil heart that beats inside his chest.
But as much as I’d love to do that right now, I fucking can’t. Because not only would I be subjecting a pregnant woman—who’s been nothing but nice to me—to trauma, but Lynx won’t fucking allow it. He’s robbed me of every sin so far. What makes this one any different?
Just as I’m turning the tap off and giving myself a mental bitch slap to remain calm, a man’s muffled voice filters through the door. It sounds like it’s coming from just down the hall, where Severo’s office is.
The back of my skull tingles, the scar on the inside of my left wrist burning the way it often does when in the presence of evil as I tiptoe to the door and press my ear against it.
Closing my eyes, I listen closely, my eardrums straining to make out what he’s saying.
When I hear something about the blonde girl being secured, I step back like the door has caught fire, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest as fear plows into me like a freight train.
Blonde girl. What blonde girl?
I plaster myself to the door again, desperate to hear what’s going on out there. To find out who the blonde girl might be and what he’s done with her.
But I can’t hear a goddamn thing through this thick slab of wood and the conversation is only one-sided, which means he must be on the phone.
With bated breath, I grip the steak knife in my hand, slowly open the door, and peek through the crack, my gaze traveling all the way down the hall to Severo’s office.
I can hear better out here, but it’s still not enough. I need to get closer.
Light on my feet, I glue myself to the wall and creep toward the office, every step sending my heart rate soaring higher. When I reach the slightly ajar door, I muster the courage to peek inside.
Nobody’s in there.
Yet the voice continues speaking.
My eyes slam to the cell phone on the desk, the recorded voice playing from the small device.
What the—
I don’t have a chance to blink before two long arms coil around me, squeezing the air from my lungs as a hand over my mouth muffles my scream.
The knife in my hand goes flying and I’m dragged backward out of the office, kicking and flailing and clawing the entire time until I’m pulled swiftly through an exit at the end of the hall and out into the pouring rain.
It all happens so fast that my head spins.
Still, I don’t give up, attempting every move that Lynx taught me in his backyard.
But none of them fucking work.
Before I know it, I’m tossed into the trunk of a car and the steel slab closes over me, shutting me out from the outside world. And every horrific memory of being locked up in that basement comes rushing back.
Except this time, I’m not sure I’ll make it out alive.
Two. One.
Scream.