Chapter 26
The Graveyard
Two months earlier
Droplets of water pound onto my leather jacket, and despite her being in the safety of her car, she’s no safer than a criminal on the run. I watch as she hugs herself, the dried tracks of mascara on her cheeks smudged from angrily wiping at her face.
It’s the third time in a week she’s frequented this car park.
After watching her almost take a razor to the delicate skin on her wrist two nights in a row, I’m surprised she’s back tonight to try again.
I knew she didn’t have it in her. Every time she came close to even touching the razor to her skin, her eyes would close, and she’d look away like she was ashamed.
Something is different tonight.
The way she holds herself together, like it’s her last hope of making it through the night, and the heavy sorrow she carries in her hazel eyes is amplified.
I catch sight of a glint from her lap. The click of her car door has me leaning forward to get a closer look, and as she steps out, the knife looks out of place in her hand.
What are you going to do with that, Miss Knight?
Her midnight hair sticks to the sides of her face as she strides through the creaky old gates of the cemetery, and I follow behind her closely, intrigued.
I half expect her to get spooked and head back to her car, but she doesn’t flinch in the slightest when the wind knocks over a pot nearby, the shattering sound slightly muffled by the thunder.
She reaches a grave, the plot slightly bigger than the rest, sectioned off by pavers.
Stepping behind a tree, I watch her drop to her knees, the wet soil now marring her expensive black dress.
The thin fabric sticks to her skin, outlining her round breasts as she heaves the air into her lungs, and I’m immobilised by the unfolding scene in front of me.
Will she take the next step?
Will she do what she’s been wanting to?
The knife she holds kisses her wrist ever so lightly, her tears mixing with the rain pouring down on her, and I fight with myself to continue watching.
“It’s not worth it.” I step out of the shadows and into the moonlight as she gasps at the intrusion on the moment she believed to be hers alone.
Pointing the knife at me, she wobbles to get to her feet. “Stay back,” she warns, her voice so evidently broken from all the crying she’s been doing.
“Drop the knife, Miss Knight.” My voice slips into a serious tone, and her hazel green eyes clash with mine. She can’t see my face beneath my mask, and I want it to stay that way. Until I can watch her beg me on her knees to let her go, she’ll never know my identity.
“Don’t come any closer!”
I chuckle at her pathetic attempt to scare me and take a step forward, inching closer into her comfort zone.
“W-who are you?” Her voice comes out shaky, almost as if she’s warring with herself over whether she should kill herself or kill me instead. “Why are you following me?
She takes a step back, her shoes now digging into the mud. With a swift motion, I catch her wrist in mine, gripping it tight as she struggles in my hold.
“Let it go,” I demand, and she swings her other hand at me. Seizing it mid-air, I shake my head slowly, tightening my grip around both her wrists. She whimpers, sending a jolt of electricity from my core to my dick.
I didn’t plan to confront her tonight. My only goal was to watch her torture herself some more from afar while plotting all the ways she’ll become my newest obsession.
However, she didn’t stick to the script.
She’s an anomaly, and typically, I’d eradicate any glitch that poses a risk to my larger plans, but her, I want to have fun with, play with, maybe even taste the tears on her cheeks as she cries for me.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done. My father—”
“I know exactly who you are and who your father is, Miss Knight.” I squeeze her wrists a little tighter, pulling her closer into me.
A confused expression overcomes her face, her perfectly groomed eyebrows coming together as she tries to lift her foot between us, but I don’t give her the chance. My body presses against hers, and the breath leaves her lungs in a gasp as I push her against the tree, harder than I intended to.
“I have money in my purse. You can take it all. Take the cards and my phone. You can even take my car, just don’t hurt me,” she pleads, her words swallowed up by her sobs in between.
“Don’t hurt you?” I mimic her words, pulling her wrists into the middle of her chest. She looks up at me, fury, fear, and disbelief in her eyes. “Wasn’t that what you were about to do to yourself?”
My question hangs in the air, the raindrops cutting off the sounds of her laboured breaths as she slowly closes her eyes. I know she wasn’t about to take her own life because I know she doesn’t have the guts to do it. The only reason she was here, by her sister’s grave, was to torture herself.
When she doesn’t respond, I take it as confirmation that she indeed didn’t have the heart to do it.
“When the time comes, I only need one thing from you, Miss Knight.”
Her eyes spring open and land on mine, the rain now creating its own masterpiece on her face with her dark makeup.
“Your cooperation.”
The minute I got to her Brighton apartment, I knew something was wrong.
I stood there frozen, staring at the blood on the floor of the bathroom with my phone in hand.
I hadn’t bugged this apartment like I told her I had, but it was my next step.
I dialled her number first, but of course, there was no answer.
Then I dialled the men I had posted here, and all they could give me was Astrid’s location.
So now, weeks later, I’m here again, sitting in her Brighton home with Astrid and Emmett, wondering where the fuck Isla is.
Astrid stirs the sugar into her coffee, every clink sending me further into a spiral. Emmett stands at the edge of the bench, arms crossed, watching me intently.
Once again, I try her number, hoping for another outcome.
I curse when the robotic voice answers immediately. I shove the phone back into my jacket pocket, curling my hands into fists, forcing myself to fucking breathe.
“We’ll find her, Malik,” Emmett says, returning his gaze to Astrid.
“It’s been weeks…”
“We found her car. She’s still in London. We will find her.”
Someone has taken her.
It hit me the second I saw her bags still in her boot, the gun on the driver’s seat.
“Have you called Ezra?”
“No,” I say in a low voice, every bit of energy drained from it. I haven’t because I don’t think I could ever face the ghost in my past. Not when Isla needs me.
“Why not?” His brows pull in, his gaze connecting with mine. “You know he’ll help you, right?”
“I’m stuck, Emmett,” I confess.
He faces me, intrigued, and I take a deep breath. I haven’t told him yet, and although I don’t know how he’ll react, I know he’ll call me crazy.
“He found her.”
“Wh-what? Her, her?” he asks, taking a step toward me, and I nod once. “Is she alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know!?” he asks incredulously. “Wait. You mean to tell me he found the one thing you’ve been searching for, the ghost that’s fucking sat right there on your shoulder your entire life, and you’re sitting here, obsessing over some other woman?”
I rise to my feet, the frustration boiling up inside me, threatening to spill over. “She’s not some other woman. She’s in trouble and she fucking needs me.”
He scoffs. “I don’t know whether to laugh or punch you straight in the fucking throat.”
“There will be no punching, or any form of violence,” Astrid says, her eyes bouncing from mine to Emmett’s. “Everyone needs to have a level head because we need to find Isla.”
“Do you know anything at all? Even from your childhood? Anything that could help us?” Emmett asks, stepping closer, then leaning on the bench beside her.
“I don’t think so. I mean, nothing of significance. How can I know if something is significant or not?”
I guess she’s right. She can’t possibly know what is or isn’t worth mentioning.
I grab my keys and reach for the door.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Emmett asks.
“I’m going back to her place. Maybe I missed something.”
I know I haven’t because I combed that place top to bottom, but I need to make sure.
The cabin of my car is silent, but my head is as loud as a rumbling train. When I finally reach her place, I spot a car in the driveway. I can read the plate from here, just as fucking obnoxious as he is.
ADGENAL
I bet he thinks it’s the smartest play on words, merging his name with his favourite football team.
I guess God is real, because he finally heard my prayers.
Stepping out of the car, I make my way through her front yard and tap my knuckles on the wooden door.
There’s no answer, but just as I’m about to slide the key through the hole, the door creaks open and his sky-blue eyes meet mine.
His frame is a little smaller than mine, but the man is solid, I’ll give him that.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, tone clipped as he attempts to shut the door.
Wedging my boot in the gap, I force it open and let myself in as he steps back. Closing it behind me, he waits for me to speak, but I take him in. The clean-cut dress trousers, white collared shirt beneath the black blazer and tie, like a respectable businessman, or as he likes to pretend.
“What do you want?” he asks, inviting sinister thoughts into my head at the way he speaks to me.
I want to suck the soul out of your body and watch it rot.
“We haven’t officially met.”
“I know who you are, but why are you here?”
“I have a better question. Why haven’t you filed a missing person report yet?” My question catches him off guard, and he looks away. “Isla has been missing for three weeks, and there’s still no missing person report. Not from you, or her father. It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”
“Why would I do that?” He shoves his hands into his pockets, likely to hide the shake in them.