Chapter 4 #2
Bob opens the door, his expression unreadable.
As I slide into the backseat, an unsettling feeling ripples through me.
Will I truly be safe? What if the sheriff can’t protect me?
The locks click, and the engine hums to life.
We pull away; the bar shrinking behind us.
With a shaky hand pressed against my chest, I exhale slowly.
I’m safe. I need to calm my racing mind.
The cruiser slows, pulling up beside a sleek black car, the paint gleaming under the streetlights like polished onyx.
My stomach knots as the back door swings open and I see him. Cyan.
Those unnatural blue-green eyes bore into me. No. No, no, no. I snap my head toward Bob, my breath sharp and ragged. “Sheriff, please. Don’t do this.” My voice quivers, but I don’t care; I’ll beg if I must.
Bob meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just family business, sweetheart.”
The sharp click of the automatic locks makes me flinch. I stare as Cyan reaches for the handle; another soft click and he slides in beside me. The scent of whiskey and leather fills the air, wrapping around me like a noose.
Instinct takes over. I lunge for the opposite door, fingers scrambling for the lever. But before I can throw myself out, Cyan’s voice cuts through the air—stopping me in my tracks.
“Tasha Diamond.” I freeze. My stomach plummets.
He says her name like a loaded weapon, like it alone could bring me to my knees.
My hands drop from the handle. Slowly, I turn back to him.
Cyan watches me, smug and victorious. He lifts his phone, with Tasha’s picture.
“Aria Concetta Boschett, you really thought you could run?”
Thud, thud, thud. My heartbeat is a war drum in my ears.
“You’re a junior accountant at J they’re heading to my house. “Please,” I choke out. “My gran has nothing to do with this.”
Cyan tilts his head. “Every choice has consequences, and I’ve already mapped out your debt.”
A shudder racks my body. “You have me.” My voice is barely audible. “Just leave them alone.”
Cyan leans in, his fingers grasping my chin, angling my face to his.
“I accept your offer, Dove.” My tongue refuses to work, as ice floods my veins.
“You’re mine just like every inch of this town.
” The car stops. Bob steps out, opening my door.
Cyan doesn’t wait for a response. “Get some sleep, Dove, you look worn out.” I don’t hesitate; I am moving in a rush to get my ass out of damn car.
But as I’m halfway out, his voice cuts through the night.
“If you tell anyone about tonight...” I feel his sly gleam before turning around and seeing it.
“You’ll pick their funeral dates. I’ll be seeing you around…
Dove.” The second I’m a safe distance away, the car speeds away.
I stand outside my house, my pulse still unsteady, my breath shallow. My fingers brush over my throat, feeling for bruises. Did he leave a mark? The phantom sensation of Cyan’s grip lingers, tightening like an invisible shackle.
My hands shake as I smooth my hair, straighten my dress, pull out the cardigan, and yank it on.
Pausing at the door, I take a deep breath and adjust my bag until I look presentable.
I need to look normal. Like, I haven’t become someone’s possession, whatever that means.
I step inside. The door creaks closed, and Tasha’s head whips toward me from the couch.
The glow of the TV casts flickering shadows across her face, but it’s the sharp concern in her eyes that nearly undoes me.
Tasha gets up from the sagging couch cushions. “You’re back! Why? What happened?” she crosses the space toward me.
Forcing nonchalance as I slip off my shoes and tuck them into the entry closet. “My plans changed.”
Tasha folds her arms. “Your last text said everything was going great.”
“It was …”
“Then, Ari, why are you here with me and not getting your pipes unclogged?”
I force out a laugh, but it comes out hollow.
Pivoting on my heel, I escape into the kitchen, putting distance between us.
“I saw the real Hayden tonight. He wasn’t who I thought he was.
So, I bailed.” I look down, seeing dirt on my hand and under my nails.
Heading to the sink, I give my hand a quick wash, keep my back to her, and reach for a paper towel.
Avoiding Tasha’s prying eyes, I yank open the fridge.
My eyes land on a half-finished bottle of white wine. Perfect.
Behind me, Tasha sighs. “What happened?” I grab a glass, busying my hands, pretending to focus on the wine instead of everything that happened tonight.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say too fast, too defensive.
“Let’s just be grateful I saw him for what he is.
” But my fingers fumble with the cork. My hands are still trembling.
Damn it. Tasha watches me for a moment, then wordlessly takes the bottle from my grip.
With an ease that makes me resent my weakness, she pops the cork and pours.
I grab the glass the second it’s full, swallowing a deep gulp.
Tasha leans against the counter, her eyes never leaving me.
“I can see whatever happened is messing you up…So, I’ll let it slide for now.
But trust me, I’ll find out eventually, and when I do, Trevor and I will pay that piece of shit a visit.
” Despite everything, despite the threat now hanging over my life, a laugh escapes me.
Because I know she would. Tasha and her damn baseball bat, Trevor, would absolutely go to war for me.
But she does not know who the real enemy is, and that Hayden is already fucked.
“Don’t worry, his deeds will catch up with him.” I’m sure Cyan doesn’t let debts go unpaid, and Hayden owes big. I take another sip.
Thanks to Hayden, Cyan has claimed me, and I don’t know what the hell that means.