Chapter 36
Kaylee
How is he here?
I look over my shoulder and find Ellis watching me ascend the stairs. It's like a fairytale, and instead of thinking about just how unrealistic this is, I'm going to revel in it.
I'm going to stop second-guessing myself and finally give myself a chance to be happy.
His explanation of what I heard him say was simple, and I could see the shock on his face when he asked me if I had been asleep the other night during his confessions. He was being genuine.
He's nothing like Troy, and I can't continue to punish him for the heartache another man caused. It isn't fair to either one of us.
He jolts when I trip over the damn dress because I'm not paying attention, but I hold up a hand to him as he begins to climb the stairs to get me. I swear he'll end up wrapping me in bubble wrap if I'm not careful, and I don't think I've ever felt more precious to someone else than I do to him at this moment.
My smile is wide when I enter the room, not bothering to turn on the light and using the light from the landing so I can grab my bag. I knew it wouldn't take me long to gather my things because I didn't bother to unpack.
I head to the bathroom, swiping my dirty clothes from earlier off the counter, but a shadow fills the doorway when I turn to leave.
I smile at first, thinking it's Ellis and I just can't see his face from the way it's backlit by the light outside the room. It's very reminiscent of the time we stayed up late talking and he could see my face in the moonlight but I couldn't see his.
I realize much too late that it isn't him. I should've known that because this man is wearing a suit rather than a giant purple eggplant costume. He's on me before I can scream, with one hand covering my mouth and the other wrapping around my throat.
He presses until my vision begins to swim, and as much as I fight against him, his hold is just too strong. Before my vision fades to black, I feel cheated. I should've at least had one night of bliss with my husband before I died.
***
If I thought my head ached when I woke up this morning with my stomach sloshing full of wine was bad, it has nothing on how my head feels now.
I realize my arms are tied down at my sides when I try to raise them to press my fingers into my throbbing forehead.
I don't have enough time to figure out what the hell happened when I notice a shadow looming over the bed.
I try to scream but there's something in my mouth, and the threat of what it might be nearly has me wrenching. I cough against the fabric, but it's wedged inside my mouth so tightly that barely any sound comes out.
I blink up at the person, but their face is covered with a mask. The familiarity of it makes my skin crawl. It takes a handful of breaths before I realize it's the man who tapped Ellis on the shoulder not long ago and asked to cut into our dance.
Is this retaliation for being denied?
Who gets so upset at a simple rejection that they knock someone out and tie them up?
The possibility of what else he can do makes a shiver of unease race up my spine.
Oh God. What could he have done before I came to?
I try my best to do a full-body scan, getting a little distracted at my mission when I realize that moving my legs is impossible because I'm tied at both the ankles and the knees.
"Please," I beg into the gag, but the word is intelligible.
I don't know if my dress rode up with him trying to get me onto the bed or if he forced it up. I don't feel like my body has been invaded, but just the thought of it being possible makes a rumble of sobs swim up my throat, making it difficult to breathe.
I fight the tears in my eyes, because as terrified as I am, I'm even more terrified of not being able to see what he might have planned for me next.
When he leans in close again, I pull a deep breath into my lungs and attempt to scream as loudly as I can. But even if the gag wasn't rammed into my mouth as far as it is, the party going on downstairs makes it impossible for anyone to hear me. This is literally what nightmares are made of.
This gag has to be the most inhumane thing I can think of. If I could talk, then I could beg. I could ask him why he's doing this or assure him that there's no need for this. I could promise him whatever he needs so long as he lets me live.
But I don't think the man has any intention of listening to any sort of pleading.
"I want you to get Morgan up here," he says, his words sounding indifferent, as if he couldn't care less if I help him, as if either direction I choose will still end the same way, no matter what.
I shake my head, muttering against the gag that I'll never help him hurt my friend.
His eyes narrow behind the mask, and I hate that he's too much of a coward to show me his real face.
Unless not seeing it might be the only thing that keeps me alive, so I can't identify him later.
He leans in closer, and only then do I sense the coolness of metal at my throat.
"You'll do it or I'll slit your throat and watch as you bleed out. What will that perfect husband of yours think then, huh?"
His words make me freeze.
Is there any way out of this where no one gets hurt? Is it possible that this works out where Morgan doesn't get hurt and I still get my happily ever after? Although it's only been a short while since I realized I might get one, it's something I want to cling to.
Tears stream down my face, but I can't waste time feeling weak because of them. It would take energy that I don't have.
It hits me right in the gut that this may have everything to do with the raid on the warehouse. Dima or someone in his crew could've somehow figured out that Ellis and his team were part of the ones who took him down, and this is the fallout from it, making this one hundred percent my fault.
As much as I'd like to be the hero who takes the brunt of all this, I'm just not brave enough. The hopeful side of my brain thinks I can reason with this man. The logical side knows better, but even she isn't listening right now.
I begin to mumble, explaining what happened, trying to come up with lies on the spot, but it's no use. I'm a horrible liar and the gag is still firmly in place.
"Where's your fucking phone?" he growls, the threat of the knife still at my throat.
I shake my head, refusing at first, but the nip of pain as the knife pierces my skin has me darting my eyes toward the bag on the floor.
He takes a step back, but I can't breathe any easier without the threat of a knife at my throat.
He turns it toward me and somehow my face opens the phone even with tears streaking down my face and a gag in my mouth.
I once again plead with him, but it's no use.
He searches through my phone and finds her contact, a new number she just gave me the other day because of the trouble she had with that blind date guy.
Fear sweeps over me once again, heightening every sense which is a miracle, considering how high they all were already.
This has to be him, the guy she was arguing with on the front porch last night, but it doesn't make me feel any better that this isn't my fault because it probably won't change the outcome.
My phone chirps in his hand, and I have no doubt it's a return text from Morgan. When he drops the phone back to the floor, telling me that he knows for a fact he won't need it again, I know my best friend is on her way, heading right up the stairs to sure death.
I have a flash of what might happen next, and I have to wonder what would be worse… if he killed me first or waited to kill me after forcing me to witness her death.
I doubt the man is going through so much trouble just so he can have a conversation with her.
Any sane person would know that doing something like this doesn't end well for at least someone involved.
His eyes dart toward the door, but the jolt against the hardwood clearly isn't the sound he was hoping for.
As if he had a Plan B all along, he runs to the window and disappears just as the door is kicked open.