Chapter 2 #2
I tell myself it’s nothing. A neighbor, a cat, a shadow playing tricks .
And then a hand closes around my throat from behind, not squeezing, but the fingers spread wide across my windpipe, thumb pressed into the soft space behind my ear.
A split second later, a large body presses against my back. The world tilts sideways.
“Miss me, baby?”
The voice is low. Close. His lips brush my ear, and every cell in my body goes cold.
I know that voice. It lives in the worst part of my memory, curled up in the dark, waiting.
Landon.
He smells the same. That cologne, expensive now, not the cheap stuff from when we were dating. I guess business is good. Destroying people must be especially profitable these days.
“Let go of me.” My voice comes out steady. A miracle.
Still, his hand stays on my throat, tightening until I can barely breathe.
“Now, that’s not very friendly,” he practically purrs, his voice almost sweet.
That’s the thing about Landon: he barely ever raises his voice.
He doesn’t have to. He makes everything sound like a lullaby, and you don’t realize until it’s too late that the lullaby was a funeral song. “I came by to check on my investment.”
I try to shrug him loose. No luck.
“I’m not your investment.”
“No?” His thumb moves. A slow circle against the side of my neck. The way you’d stroke a dog before putting it down. “Your heartbeat says otherwise. I feel it right here.” He presses slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that he could. “Going so fast, Ellie. What are you afraid of?”
“Let go.”
“When I’m ready.”
His other hand finds my hip and slides across my stomach. Slow, a cartographer mapping territory he’s already claimed. His fingers spread over my abdomen and pull me back against him. The full length of his body meets mine, and everything in me turns to stone.
“I heard something interesting today,” he murmurs against my hair. “You quit your little teaching job. Walked right out. Very dramatic. Very you.” His hand flattens on my stomach. “I also heard you had lunch with Maren on Monday. At that café in Lincoln Park. Le Petit Coin.”
My blood freezes.
“Oh, you didn’t know I knew that?” I hear the slimy smile in his voice.
“Baby. I know everything. I know what you eat, where you sleep. I know you sold your car for three thousand two hundred dollars and sent every penny to my accounts, which I found sweet but also insufficient.” His hand slides higher.
Ribs. Just beneath my breast. Testing. “I know you haven’t been with anyone since me. That’s loyalty. I respect that.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“That’s not loyalty. That’s disgust.”
His hand tightens for a second. A flash of pressure across my ribs that makes me gasp.
“Careful.” His voice drops. The sweetness is gone. What’s underneath is flat and cold. “I let you have your pride, Ellie. I let you have your little job and your little apartment and your little fantasy that you’re going to pay this off and walk away.
“But don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I own you. I own every dollar you make, every hour you work, and every breath you take until that number hits zero. And you’re never going to make it hit zero. You know that, right?”
My teeth grind together. I wish I had the strength to slap him. “The payment isn’t due until next week,” I gasp the reminder. “You know that... right?”
He laughs, taunting me. “I do. But you don’t have a job anymore. And I’m wondering, how exactly are you planning to make that payment? ”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Will you?” His free hand comes up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. It makes my skin crawl. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running out of options. You sold the car. That bought you — what — a month? Two?”
“I said, I’ll figure it out.”
A snarl threatens to twist my lips. I could bite his forearm right now, dig my teeth into his flesh and cause him a fraction of the pain he’s caused me.
But at what cost?
“Or,” he continues, and his voice drops, “you could come home. Let me take care of it. All of it. You know the offer still stands.”
I know what he’s suggesting. He’s been suggesting it for a year now, ever since the payments started getting harder and the amounts started getting bigger. Come back to me. Be with me.
Be mine, and the debt disappears.
As if being with him isn’t its own kind of prison. As if the trade wouldn’t cost me more than the debt ever could.
“No.”
“Ellie—”
“I said no, Landon.”
He’s quiet for a moment. His hand is still on my throat. I feel my pulse beating against his palm, fast and terrified. I know he feels it too.
I know he revels in it.
Then he laughs. Again.
It makes my blood boil.
“Okay.”
Just like that, he releases me and steps back.
I stumble forward, catching myself against the railing. My hand immediately goes to my throat where his fingers were. The skin is hot, and I still feel the shape of his grip like a brand.
I turn around. He’s standing in the shadow where the streetlight should be buzzing. Tall, well-dressed, hands casually tucked in his pockets.
His face is the same, dark eyes and heavy beard, but his red hair has recently been cut, which only highlights his unpleasantness.
“But Ellie?” He tilts his head, smiling. “I’m adjusting the terms. As of today, the minimum goes up. Twenty percent. Consider it a... motivational adjustment.” He straightens his cuffs. “And if you’re late — even one day — I stop being patient. You understand what that means.”
I understand. I understand plenty.
“You can leave now,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “I’ll be around.”
And with that, he turns and walks away. Unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world.
And he does. He has all the time in the world, and I have none.
My hands are shaking so badly that it takes me three tries to get the key in the lock.