Chapter 29 #8
He clasps her hands in his, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on her skin as he continues. “Surgeons need steady hands, don’t they? He could’ve been exceptional, but we’ll never know now. He won’t be able to touch you again, not his fingers anyway.”
His grip on her hands tightens, the pressure increasing until she buckles slightly, wincing in sharp pain.
“STOP!” she cries out, struggling to free her hands, but his hold remains unyielding. “Just don’t hurt him. Please! He’s my—”
“He’s your what?”
My fucking everything, she wants to scream.
Closing her eyes, she draws a deep, trembling breath and forces the words out, bitter and raw. “He’s my first love. The only one who’s ever been kind to me. I’ll do anything.”
“I don’t know. I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”
Something snaps within her. Anger surges like wildfire, hot and uncontrollable, leaving her trembling with the sheer force of it.
“I was never yours to begin with, you fucking psycho! You’re not going to get away with this. The police—I’ll call them and have you taken away.”
He releases her hands and reaches into the back pocket of his trousers.
“Oh, you mean with this phone?” he sneers, pulling out her device and holding it before her face.
Her blood runs cold at the sight of the familiar yellow case.
Without waiting for a response, he hurls it against the wall.
The phone crashes loudly, its screen shattering into jagged shards that scatter across the floor.
The once sleek device now lies in ruins amid the other broken debris.
She bolts upright, scrambling for the shattered device with trembling hands. She frantically presses every button, trying to power it on, but the fractured screen stays dark and unresponsive.
“YOU… ASSHOLE!” she screams, her voice breaking as tears of rage spill down her cheeks.
“Cunt,” he replies, flat and cutting.
She storms toward him, her face flushed a deep, fiery red.
Without hesitation, she swings her hand back and strikes him hard across the cheek.
The sharp crack of the impact reverberates through the room, and his head jerks to the side.
She glares at him, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she watches him slowly turn back.
Surprise flashes across his face, eyes wide, as the red mark blooms on his cheek.
The sting of her anger hangs thick in the air, and her own hand throbs painfully from the force of the strike.
He seizes her slender wrist and yanks her toward him. “Don’t ever do that again,” he growls. “You’ll regret it. One call, and your little boy toy will be missing some digits. Understand?”
“I won’t. I promise. Please just let him go.”
“You really love him, don’t you?” he asks, his voice cracking with hurt as he loosens his hold on her.
“No, I don’t.” She shakes her head, forcing a false calm into her voice. “Not anymore.”
“You sure put a lot of effort into someone you don’t love anymore.”
Max walks over to the bedside table and retrieves a folder she hadn’t noticed before.
Its plain black cover gives nothing away, but its contents are anything but ordinary.
When he opens it, a cascade of images spills onto the floor—photos of Jake captured in private moments: collecting his mail, entering his apartment, jogging, socializing with new friends.
Completely unaware that someone had been watching him all along.
“Well, would you look at that,” Max says, his voice low and menacing as he drops the emptied folder on the floor. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Lila. I got all this, and so much more, from your phone.”
Lila stares at the photos, her heart hammering as fear and confusion spiral together. How could he have bypassed her lock screen? The horror flickering across her face seems to amuse him. He advances toward her, deliberately stepping on one of Jake’s photos as he closes the distance.
“This is what happens when you try to fuck with me,” Max says, contempt thick in his voice. “You think you can just walk away and be happy with someone else? Think again.”
Then, his tone softens, almost tenderly, as he gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“He really doesn’t appreciate you,” Max murmurs.
“Imagine his reaction if he knew you came all this way just for him. Renting an apartment you can barely afford—just to be near him.” His lips curl faintly.
“The photos… countless snapshots of him, taken in secret and saved on your phone. I have to admit, I’m impressed.
I wish someone cared about me like that… ”
“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, heavy with defeat.
“Did you like it when he fucked you?” he asks quietly. “Did you let him come inside you?”
“We used a condom,” she says, her voice hollow and drained.
“Really?” His tone carries a mix of surprise and subtle amusement as his eyes assess her with a calculating gaze. “He used a condom with you?”
She lets out a strangled sound as her face scrunches up, lips pressing together as she fights to compose herself.
“Answer me.”
“Yes! Really!” she exclaims, her voice trembling as tears begin to well. She feels an overwhelming urge to curl up somewhere dark and give up entirely.
“What a shame,” he murmurs. “You feel so fucking good without one. Has he ever tried fucking you without it?”
“No. We always used one.”
“Why?”
“Just to be safe since marriage wasn’t really on the table yet…”
“What about other men?” His voice drops, husky and intense. His gaze roams over her petite frame, possessiveness and desire evident in his eyes.
She loathes how he’s forcing her to divulge things she knows he already knows. “I’ve only been with him,” she says, then swallows. “And you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, a futile attempt to protect herself.
“So, I was the one who gave you your first cream pie?”
Nausea churns violently in her stomach, leaving her dizzy and unsteady. She recoils inwardly, overwhelmed by the ugliness of his words and the crushing reality of her situation.
“I really hate you,” she says, her voice shaking with anger and disgust.
Her words seem to vanish into the air, falling on ears that are impervious to her pain.
“Lila, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, pulling her into a heated embrace. His fingers tilt her chin up, firm but controlled, and his lips capture hers. “Kiss me back,” he urges, his voice a low, demanding whisper. “I want you to touch me. All over.”
He pushes her onto the bed and straddles her, pinning her beneath his weight.
One hand braces against the mattress beside her head while the other grazes her cheek.
His touch is unnervingly gentle, almost reverent, as if he fears that applying even the slightest pressure might shatter her.
“How about we start over?” he says softly. “Hi. I’m Max. What’s your name?”
“Get off me, you fucking psycho!” she cries, shoving at his chest.
“Watch your mouth,” he snaps, suddenly gripping her jaw. His thumb and fingers press into her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes linger on her pouty, pink lips before he kisses her, unyielding even as she stiffens beneath him. “Be sweet to me,” he murmurs as he releases her slowly.
“Why?’ she bites out. “You’re not sweet to me.”
“I am very sweet to you,” he says, positioning himself between her legs. “I’m sweet to only you.”
“You’re a monster.”
“Shh,” he whispers. “No more name-calling.”
“Creep. Scumbag.”
A pang of guilt flickers through him. Like a newly captured bird, she is terrified, desperate to escape the gilded cage he has built around her.
Yet her words cut deeply, and if she insists on seeing him as a monster, then he will embrace that role.
In that moment, he vows never to let her leave.
He knows that if she’s given the chance, his precious bird will fly away forever.
He trails kisses over her exposed skin, hoping each one will make her forget everything but him.
“Stop it!” she cries, pressing her palms against his chest, trying to hold him back.
He shushes her softly, as if offering comfort, and gently wipes the tears from her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, sweetie,” he murmurs. “You should fall in love with me instead.”
28
Lila hadn’t thought she could fall asleep, not after everything, but exhaustion must have won out. When her eyelids flutter open, it’s already morning. Pale blue light spills softly into the room. Max lies beside her, gently stroking her hair.
“Morning, sleepy,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tired.
She gazes back at him wordlessly, her expression unreadable against his faint, weary smile. His eyes are red and swollen, bleary from a sleepless night. She can only imagine hers look just as bad, if not worse.
“You’ll be living here with me now,” he says. “Don’t worry about rent.”
“Great,” she mutters, her voice hoarse, too tired to care whether the sarcasm lands. A dull ache pulses behind her temple, her throat dry and raw. There’s so much more she wants to say, but what’s the point? Her words are wasted on him.
They lie side by side in silence, the quiet between them dense and unmoving. Minutes stretch into something that feels like eternity until her eyelids grow too heavy to fight. Slowly, reluctantly, she drifts off again, carried by the steady rhythm of his breathing beside her.
A heavy week crawls past.
Nothing is ever said aloud, but she knows, deep in her heart, that the price for Jake’s freedom was her own.
Max.
Her smooth-talking travel companion. Her generous lover. And now, her obsessive captor.
The man who, just over a week ago, had been the source of her thrill and fleeting bliss has now become the reason she loathes waking up in the morning.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” her cruel abductor whispers above her.