Chapter 4
Four
Piper
I had resolved to stay quiet the entire drive. My form of protest, maybe? But upon reflection after about an hour, I decided that silence was not protest but submission. I’d gone with him willingly, without a fight, which was shameful enough. I wouldn’t sit there meekly, letting him think I was entirely at his mercy.
I had a voice. It was pretty much the only thing I had left at this point.
“What’s your name?” It was a pertinent question to ask my kidnapper. Though was it kidnapping if I went willingly, albeit under duress? Though I didn’t even know if it counted as ‘under duress’ since he hadn’t made any outright threats. Although just his existence alone was a threat.
I sighed loudly. Great. Even if I did decide to run away at a gas station and go to the police, I’d have nothing to truly convict him of, and I’d be laughed out of the station for getting in the car with a stranger.
“You work for Stone, right?” I probed when he didn’t respond to my question. “I just want to ensure that I didn’t somehow just get in the car with a stalker completely unrelated to my…” What was Stone? Definitely not a boyfriend. Not a friend. “Overly friendly with hostile undertones acquaintance who wants me to be his with my coerced consent.” The word spewed from me in a quick babble with air quotes and nervous smiling.
I did that—babbled and smiled when nervous.
He obviously worked for Stone. He’d had him on the phone, after all, a detail that had floated out of my mind. As if I could erase Stone’s very existence. I hadn’t realized just how quickly my mind would fracture in a situation as unbelievable as this. My brain was already attempting to erase memories to protect me from them.
I was looking right at him. My nameless abductor, road trip buddy, Midnight Man. Parts of me didn’t want to. Look at him, that was. Though he was hauntingly attractive, there was something unnerving about staring at him in such an enclosed space. The act of even speaking to him felt dangerous. But I pushed past that. Showing my fear would not do. You didn’t do it with horses, and you didn’t do it with mafioso enforcers or whatever his title was.
Until this point, he’d been looking straight ahead. But his head tilted enough so his eyes slid to me. It took all my effort not to plaster myself against the door and let out a little scream. I might’ve peed myself a little. Mostly out of fear but also because I’d been holding it since we left and was too embarrassed to ask for a bathroom break. One of the many things in this situation that didn’t make sense. I should be shaking with fear, terror; embarrassment shouldn’t have been anywhere in the mix.
I didn’t break eye contact, even though I really, really wanted to. The weight of his gaze wasn’t just terrifying, it was probing, ice barbs pricking at my skin, awakening something inside me I didn’t know existed. The magnetism I felt toward this man was unexplainable. And unhinged. It had to be some kind of psychological effect from being kidnapped.
“I work for Stone,” he finally said. He didn’t remind me of the exchange in the car or seem at all surprised at my amnesia, holding my eyes longer than was technically safe for the driver of a motor vehicle to be averting his eyes from the road.
Though a car crash was likely the least of my worries. And inexplicably, I knew this man wouldn’t crash. There was no way he would let ordinary dangers come to me. I felt safe with him. In that respect, at least. I was more than aware that I definitely wasn’t safe in any other ways.
I swallowed heavily. “Good.” It was an effort to keep my voice light, even.
Only because I was watching him so intently did I see the very slight twitch to his eyebrow. Before this, his face was so expressionless, it could’ve been made of marble.
“I wouldn’t say it’s good that I work for Stone De Luca,” he remarked dryly.
My bones trembled at the tone of his voice. Fear. Yes, fear was a living being inside of me. But I couldn’t deny that was the only thing I felt. There was also warmth. From the vicinity between my legs.
Unlike my sister, I did not have a bad boy infatuation.
Until now.
Not that the man beside me was a boy.
I had a hard time imagining he’d ever been a boy. This man had never been a defenseless, cute, squishy baby. No, he’d burst onto this earth ready to fuck shit up. Like an orc. Just a lot more handsome.
“No, it’s not good,” I agreed, thrumming my fingers on my thighs. “None of this is good.”
Most especially my burgeoning obsession with this man, my inability to stop looking at him, cataloguing every inch of him.
“Oh, Jesus.” I ran through the situation in my mind, picking at my cuticles. “I’m going to be on a segment of 60 Minutes one day. Maybe I’ll even get my own Netflix special if Daisy is dramatic enough about it … which she will be. My colleagues will all go on. Even Trina, and she hates me. But she’ll be talking about how we were best friends. How I lit up the room.”
I looked back at him, his profile sharp. He didn’t seem to be listening, but the sound of my own voice was better than silence.
“Have you ever noticed that murder victims always ‘lit up a room?’” I made air quotes. “I mean, sure, some of them might’ve. But just by law of averages, they couldn’t all have been angels. Even murder victims can be bitches.” I toyed with a thread on my jeans. “Do you think that death does that to the people who survive it? Makes them remember people differently? Better?”
For a moment, I thought of my parents, cataloging my memories of them. Not a single one was pleasant. They were all thorny and painful.
“No,” I decided. “Death doesn’t do that to people. TV does. Some people lie, doing whatever it takes, to be on TV.” I pause, nibbling on a dry piece of skin on my lip. “Although I do hope people lie for the airtime. I don’t want to be remembered as a bitch. I’m not a bitch. But if Trina decides to make up stories about me on national TV… well, I guess I won’t be around to care, will I?”
I rubbed my amethyst ring again, harder this time. I then fingered the onyx necklace I’d put on for protection as I’d hastily packed. As if lumps of rock could protect me in any way from this man beside me.
We lapsed into silence for a long while, me looking out the window, contemplating my fate and trying to best my bladder.
But there was only so long I could do that.
“I need to pee.” I eventually broke the long, cold, ominous quiet.
It felt infinitely embarrassing, admitting I had bodily functions to a man who seemed to be made of stone. But it was either that or wet myself.
He didn’t say anything except a slight incline of his head that I guessed was a nod.
I started to squirm in my seat as he pulled off at an exit.
Not very modest of me, nor attractive, that I was a thirty-something, childless woman who had trouble controlling her bladder. But I shouldn’t have been worrying about being attractive to this man in the first place.
My hand was on the handle before he came to a full stop, seat belt unbuckled. I was about to leap out when a band circled around my wrist.
My bursting bladder was momentarily forgotten as I looked down at a large, pale hand clutching my wrist. It made mine look tiny, dainty. And I did not have dainty limbs like my sister. The grip was tight, painful. I knew that he could snap the bone in a moment, if he wanted to.
My skin exploded with sensation at the contact between us. Not all of it was unpleasant. This close I couldn’t deny the … presence he had. It blanketed me like a shadow. His eyes were even more vibrant this close, glittering.
“You know, it would be a bad idea to try anything in there.” He nodded to the gas station. It was busy, one of the nicer establishments that boasted snacks and knickknacks. A place I normally would’ve been overjoyed to look around, buying a cheap shot glass or some sort of tacky fridge magnet or tee.
People walked in and out, parents chasing children, truck drivers clutching extra-large cups, people living normal lives that weren’t under threat of their family being murdered.
“I know.” I turned my head to him. “As hard as it may be for you to believe, I’m not actually worried about finding help right now that isn’t in the form of a porcelain throne. And even if that weren’t the case, I’m not that stupid. Now let me go .”
My voice was cold and commanding, partly because of my overwhelming need to not wet myself in front of this man and also because I was pissed off.
He held me a beat longer, as if to show he could, that he was in control. He could hold me here and watch me pee in my pants if he wanted to. For a second, I thought he would. It’s not like he was any kind of gentleman.
But thankfully, he let me go.
I didn’t hesitate, darting out the door.
No matter how tempting it was to run for the state trooper I’d just seen pull up, I went to the bathroom instead.
Knox
I watched her walk into the gas station.
More accurately, I watched her ass walk into the gas station. It was the perfect size, perky, big, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining my hands on it, the way I would slap it when taking her from behind.
The thought was a foreign invader in my mind, unwelcome and unusual as I never had sexual feelings about people.
She rushed past the state trooper without so much as a glance. Granted, she was desperate to use the bathroom; she’d been squirming in her seat for a while. I imagined her skin underneath my palm, warm, soft, breakable. I had the urge to do that, break her.
My hands twitched for the knife at my ankle. The need to grab it, slice it through the skin of my arm in order to let out the poison of those thoughts. But I didn’t have enough time. She’d notice. She’d notice because she looked at me. Right at me.
Very few people did that.
Three, in fact. My brother, Stone, and more recently, my brother’s woman, Avery.
Everyone else on the planet, in my world and on top of it, averted their eyes. Even if they didn’t know who I was, didn’t understand my reputation, some primal part of human nature understood what I was. People avoided me. Gave me a wide berth on even the most crowded sidewalks.
Though I avoided crowded sidewalks and crowds in general when possible. I didn’t like it, being around people. Living people, normal people. Hence why I made my living in death. My habitat was the underworld, full of scoundrels, demons and murderers. My kind.
Piper was not my kind. And being in an enclosed space with her for an hour was pure torture. She smelled of some kind of fruit. Peaches, maybe. Sweet. And despite the gravity of her situation, she had a fucking spring to her step as she walked into the gas station. The spring that only served to make her ass wiggle that much more.
She opened the door for someone heading in, smiling at the mother and small child in front of her as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she wasn’t hurtling toward some unknown location with a murderer. A monster. Me.
I had an urge, an almost overwhelming urge, to drive away, leave her here. Safe. As far away from me as possible.
But the problem was she wouldn’t stay safe for long. Stone would just send someone else after her. Likely Groves.
My hands clenched the steering wheel. Stone had strict instructions not to harm Piper, but I knew that Groves would do everything he could to circumvent that order, to ensure that he hurt her, took her in any way he could.
I relished in death. Pain. But only of those who deserved it. I did not like to take people apart just to see them hurt. Didn’t find joy in sullying those who didn’t deserve it.
Groves did.
He would not lay a hand on Piper. He would not even glimpse her. That was a promise I made to myself, even though there was no real way to keep it.
Eventually, I’d have to hand her over to Stone, untouched, her will broken.
The thought made me want to burn down the fucking world.
Piper
Our trip ended in the Appalachian Mountains. I’d spent a large portion of my childhood in these mountains. Some of my most treasured memories were made here. Before my father decided that he wouldn’t allow me or my sister to be away from him. Ash-filled memories that were previously coated in sunshine and smelled of morning dew against the trees.
Whether he knew about my bittersweet history here remained to be seen. How much he knew about my past remained to be seen. Stone had communicated just how much he knew about me, so I assumed he’d told his minion. I shifted uncomfortably, knowing he must have at least a rudimentary understanding of my life, my past, while I knew nothing about him other than he was highly dangerous.
Dusk was falling as we drove over bumpy dirt roads, climbing higher and farther into denser vegetation with signs of civilization growing sparse. Large trees surrounded us, encasing us in their embrace as we wove up the mountain.
Though I was plenty afraid, I didn’t think I was going to die. He wouldn’t have gone to such an effort in order to merely kill me. That could’ve been done in Central Park. Although there were plenty of other things a man could take a woman to a very secluded location for that weren’t killing her.
“Are you going to rape me?” I blurted, unable to handle the bubbling of that thought tearing away at my insides like acid. Was it better to know in advance? Probably not. There was no real way to prepare for rape, yet I asked the question, nonetheless.
His head whipped in my direction, the most attention he’s given me. The car even jerked a little, drifting precariously close to the edge of what was becoming a sheer drop to our right.
He righted the car quickly, eyes and head returning in the direction of the road.
His knuckles were pure white.
“No.” The word was heavy, settling like a weight in my stomach.
It could’ve been a lie. A man who worked for Stone was likely in the practice of lying, but it didn’t feel like one.
I rolled my lips against each other, my shoulders relaxing somewhat.
“Torture me?” I asked after a few more moments, the faint crunch of the tires against the dirt the only sound.
He didn’t turn so dramatically this time, as if the question was less egregious, or maybe he was prepared for it.
“No.” He said it quieter this time.
Though the tenor of the response was slightly different, it seemed just as sincere.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, tapping my fingers on my knees.
“No rape or torture,” I repeated. “Always a plus with abductions, though this is my first time. Being abducted, that is.”
He didn’t respond, I didn’t really expect him to. He wasn’t here to engage in conversation, after all.
The sun was quickly creeping behind the curtain of the woods, making me wonder if we would still be driving when it was completely dark. Sure, I didn’t know that much about my abductor—thankfully, not rapist or torturer. I had noted the manicured nails, the suit, the loafers. He worked for Stone in New York. It wasn’t a stretch to deduce that he didn’t have experience driving in the woods, the Appalachian Mountains. The roads weren’t reliable; turns often came seemingly out of nowhere, even in full daylight. The mountains played tricks on outsiders, as if they were sentient beings, aware of intruders in their realm. I’d always thought these ancient mountains were full of magic and wonder. With talk of dangerous, otherworldly beings roaming the woods after dark, a lot of people tread carefully there. The area had never scared me, not with the father I lived with day in and day out. Compared to him, faceless monsters were welcome.
And yet there I was, driving into the wilderness with yet another monster.
Asking him about his competence driving in the conditions wouldn’t be smart, and offering to drive would be even less so.
His posture was rigid, though it had been that way throughout the entire drive. He’d been awake … how many hours now? A badass he might be, but I was almost sure he was human. Despite my overactive imagination and fantasies about some ancient vampire being enthralled by the siren song of my blood, I knew that was less than likely.
Therefore, human. One who needed sleep. And without it, reaction times were sluggish, brain performance was hindered, concentration was more difficult.
I breathed a sigh of relief when we crested the hill and turned onto what looked like a very overgrown driveway. My body jostled as we hit dips and potholes, driving farther into the woods.
The headlights illuminated the cabin we were approaching. It was wooden, small, with a dense overgrowth of weeds and wildflowers bordering it. One of the shutters on the windows was askew, the other had fallen off entirely. But the roof was intact, and it looked vaguely habitable.
Our accommodations, I assumed.
Throughout the entire experience, I had prided myself on how composed I had been. Maybe in denial was a more accurate way to describe it. But right then, seeing the end of the road, so to speak, the reality of my situation set in.
I was in the middle of the mountains, without anyone knowing where I was, without anyone looking for me or coming to save me. I was completely powerless, at the hands of a strange, frightening man. On the orders of another man who wanted to terrify me into marrying him. If I escaped or survived this captivity, I’d just be trading it for another. Till death do us part.
My death would likely come first, since I didn’t think marriages based on coercion were long-lasting.
My hands began to shake, and my stomach roiled against the last few bumps in the road.
Spots danced in my vision, my breaths becoming rapid and shallow.
A panic attack. Understandable in the situation, but not ideal. Showing any kind of vulnerability in the presence of my captor could be my demise.
I tried to tell myself to calm my breathing, focus on something safe, stable. The problem being there was nothing safe nor stable in the car. Or in my life in general.
My breathing only grew more erratic as I understood just how far from home I was. How vulnerable. Worse still, these mountains used to be a home of mine yet now taunted me with what had been taken from me.
My lungs seized, no longer working. Pain speared up my arm as I came to understand that I was having a heart attack. Surely, I must’ve been. A feeling of doom covered me like a second skin.
Maybe a heart attack was a mercy. Nature trying to save me from an unnatural fate.
“Piper.”
My name was a command more than a title.
I opened my eyes more on reflex than anything. My vision was tilted, the world moving even though the car had stopped.
Of their own volition, as if he were a gravitational pull and my eyes were planets, they found their way to him.
There was no gentleness on his face, nothing soft or comforting. He was wearing that same cold, menacing expression he had when I first laid eyes on him. That helped, somehow. The predictability of it. Stability of it. My father had always been unpredictable. One moment he’d be smiling at you with utter adoration, yet seconds later, his eyes would be clouded with rage and violence.
“Knox,” he said quietly.
My eyelids fluttered. “What?” I asked, still gasping for breath yet, thankfully, not as badly.
“My name.” He cleared his throat. “Knox.”
Knox .
He was giving me his name. Because he saw me spiraling. Somehow, it was something to hold on to. An anchor, even though he shouldn’t be that. If I were assigning metaphorical titles to the man in question, it would be a blade, a weapon, something to hurt and cut and kill.
But still, I held on to the name. It served to tether me to the earth. To sanity.
Silence thrummed between us, neither of us looking away for a long while as my heartbeat steadied, my breathing eventually slowing to an even cadence as my fists unclenched.
I was sure that I’d blink first. I’d be the one to break our stare-off.
But it was him, his body jerking as if someone had physically shaken his shoulder. My body went slack at the loss of eye contact, and my breath left me in a whoosh as he swiftly undid his seat belt and got out of the car. I jerked at the slam of his door.
My head fell back against the headrest as I took stock of my surroundings. For the foreseeable future, I was in a cabin in the woods with a man called Knox, who might not be my murderer. But he was a killer, that was for sure.