19. Katelyn
I stare at myself in the mirror one last time. The reflection staring back at me doesn’t feel like me at all. My hair is pulled back into a neat bun, the sleek strands so tight they almost hurt. The navy blue pencil skirt and matching blazer are crisp, professional, a stark contrast to the chaos inside me. I adjust the non-prescription glasses on my face and take a deep breath. If I’m going to play the part of Wendy Carmichael, I need to look it.
I grab my purse but opt to leave my phone at home. It’s too risky to bring it. The last thing I need is for anyone to trace this visit back to me.
The Uber ride feels endless, every turn tightening the coil of nerves in my stomach. When the driver finally pulls up to the prison, the imposing gray building looms over me like a fortress. My palms are sweaty as I step out and approach the entrance.
At the front desk, I keep my head down as I speak to the guard. “Wendy Carmichael,” I say, keeping my voice low so he doesn’t hear how nervous I am. “I’m an investigator for the prosecutor’s office. I’m here to speak with Aleksandras Kazlauskas.”
The guard squints at me for a moment before nodding. “Detective Collins informed us of your visit. Follow me.”
I clutch my purse tightly, my heels clicking against the concrete floor as he escorts me down a maze of sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors. I keep my head down and walk behind him to shield my face from any cameras they may have. We venture to a quiet place, and it’s so secluded I start to wonder if they use this room to forcefully extract information out of prisoners. No one would even hear their screams.
I push the thought out of my mind. My imagination will run wild if I don’t put a stop to it. The guard stops in front of a door, pulling out a set of keys.
“This is the room,” he says, unlocking it. “I’ll bring the prisoner in shortly.”
I step inside, scanning the small, unremarkable space. No cameras. No windows. Just a table and two chairs. My heart pounds as I sit down, waiting.
When the door opens again, Alex steps inside, his wrists and ankles bound in heavy cuffs. I haven’t seen him in six weeks, and he looks the same, yet different. His hair’s grown out slightly, his jaw more shadowed than before. The stark orange of his two-piece prison uniform—a button-down top and loose pants—contrasts sharply against the cold, gray walls of the room.
The fabric pulls slightly across his broad shoulders as he moves, every step restrained by the weight of the chains. His eyes lock onto mine, and his jaw clenches. Hard.
The guard shoves him into the chair and hands me the key to the door. “Knock when you’re done,” he says before stepping out.
I wait until the door closes, then lock it behind him.
Once we’re alone, every ounce of control I’ve managed to cling to shatters. I want to run up to him, throw my arms around him, and hug him tight. But I dare not move. His steely gaze keeps me firmly in place.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is sharp, hostile, the anger rolling off him in waves.
I notice how his eyes discreetly move around the room, and I know what he’s looking for. “There are no cameras in here.”
“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t be here. I told you to stay the hell away from me.”
This isn’t exactly how I envisioned he’d react to seeing me. I thought he’d be...happy. Swallowing my nervousness, I ready myself to face his wrath. “I wanted to see you. To make sure you’re okay.”
He scoffs. “You wanted to see me? Great. You’ve seen me. I’m fine. Now turn around, walk out that door, and forget you ever came.”
“No.”
“You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some game. You can’t just show up like this. Do you realize Victor’s in the same fucking building? If he finds out you were here—”
The sentence stops midway when his rage overwhelms him. He’s seething now, so livid he can’t even look at me. He runs a rough hand over his tightened jaw, his hands balling into hard fists.
“I took precautions.”
That statement was meant to ease his worry, but it only aggravates him more.
“I don’t give a shit what you did. You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here!” His voice rises, his frustration bubbling over. “Why did you come?”
“I came because...I want you to testify against Victor.”
He doesn’t even think about it. “No.”
“Alex—”
“I said no.” His tone is unyielding. “It’s too dangerous.”
Detective Collins said that he can’t guarantee that the DA will agree to release him, and nothing has been finalized yet, so I don’t want to get his hopes up by making promises I can’t keep.
“Look, I’m trying to push for more, but as a minimum, they’ll reduce your sentence. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he snaps. “They might be housing Victor in the high-security wing here, but he’ll find a way to come after me. You’re talking about a reduced sentence like it means something. It doesn’t. One day is all it takes. One wrong place, one wrong time, and Victor will make sure one of his guys takes me out. If I turn on him, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I can’t live like that.”
“Is your loyalty to Victor really worth that much?” I fire back, unable to hold back the anger simmering beneath my skin. I take my fake glasses off and toss them on the table. “You’d rather risk him walking free, terrorizing more innocent people, just so you can...what? Stay silent like the rest of them because your allegiance to that monster is more important?”
His eyes narrow, the lines on his face hardening. “This isn’t about loyalty. You think I owe Victor something? I don’t give a damn about him.”
“Then what is it, Alex? Because I don’t understand. Why is staying silent more important than doing the right thing?”
He exhales sharply, his frustration growing in tandem with mine. “I thought the evidence was enough to bury him. I saw what was in those files. The bodies. The records. How is that not enough? Why the hell do they even need me?”
“They need someone to connect the dots. The prosecutor said it’s all circumstantial. It paints a picture, but it’s not enough to convict him. They need someone on the inside to testify, someone who knows all the details.”
He sneers. “Of course, they do. So, they want me to stick my neck out, risk getting killed in here because their case isn’t strong enough?”
“It’s the only way, Alex!” My exasperation finally spills over. “It’s the only way to make sure he’s locked up for good.” We stare at each other, the tension between us thick enough to suffocate. I take a deep breath, softening my tone. “What if I could convince them to let you go? To give you your freedom? Would you testify if it meant...if it meant there was a chance we could be together?”
Something about that question makes him freeze. Possibilities flicker in his eyes, and I see...uncertainty, or an emotion I can’t quite place. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by cold, steely indifference.
“Leave,” he says, his voice low and detached.
“What?”
“I don’t want you here.” His words are a knife, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“Alex, please—”
“Go!” His gaze hardens, his tone unrelenting. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”
I freeze, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces. He’s shutting me out, building a wall so high I can’t see over it. I thought I could break through, that I could reach him, but he’s retreating further and further away.
“You shouldn’t have wasted your time coming here. I’m not worth it. What we had was...nothing, so I don’t understand why you’d come here when I specifically told you not to seek me out.” He slams his bound hands onto the table, the chains rattling violently. “You think I want you here? I don’t. I was perfectly content with never seeing you again.”
He might as well have slapped me because the impact of that statement is just as brutal. It’s hard to see him like this, so cold and callous. It’s hard to hear him say that we were nothing when the last time I saw him, he held me like I meant everything to him.
“You don’t mean that.”
His nostrils flare slightly as he tries to keep his temper from spiraling. “Yeah, I do. Now leave.”
He says it with such conviction that, for a moment, I almost believe him. But then I see it. A weakness. A single chink in his armor. And once I see it, the entire facade crumbles. It’s all just a defense mechanism. He’s being abrasive, but it’s just to keep me safe. He did the same thing that day in the bathroom when he pulled a gun on me.
I’m sure it’s his past that hardened him this way. He doesn’t react well when he feels helpless or vulnerable. He becomes cold and emotionless to regain any sort of power because, just like me, he hates not being in control.
I decide not to give him what he wants. He’s trying to ignite my anger, to make me storm out and leave him behind. But I won’t fight fire with fire. I’ll smother it. I’ll starve it of oxygen until there’s nothing left.
Slowly, I reach across the table, my fingers brushing over his knuckles. His skin is rough and warm beneath mine. He flinches at the contact but doesn’t pull away. I run my hand over his wrist, my touch light, almost absent. Then I trace my fingers over the frayed shoelace still tied there.
“If what you’re saying is true...” I look up at him, my voice soft but unwavering. “...then why are you still wearing this?”
His eyes flick to the shoelace, the slightest hesitation betraying him, before he jerks his hand away like I’ve burned him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m going to mark today as the first day you lied to me.” My taunting whisper is met with harsh rejection.
“Leave!” His jaw clenches harder, the muscle twitching as he glares at me. “Call the guard and get out.”
“Hm?” I press a pensive finger to my lips and even that slight gesture puts him on edge. “It’s weird how you think you’re in control of this situation. You can’t make me leave. I’m staying right here.”
He doesn’t like that. Not one bit. And to prove that he has no say, I stand and move around the table, closing the distance between us. He stiffens, his entire body locking up as I get closer. I stop in front of him, and slowly—so very slowly—I hike my skirt higher up my legs.
He catches one glimpse of my thighs and immediately looks away. “Katie.”
It’s a warning. I can hear it. But I pay it no mind.
I swing my leg over, straddling his lap, and his chains clink against the chair as he tries to shift away.
“Get off.”
He could shove me off, but instead, he pulls his hands in, keeping them close to his chest. He won’t dare touch me. The slightest caress will unravel him because I am the chink in his armor. I’m his weakness.
“You don’t want me to leave,” I say softly.
“I do.”
“You’re still lying.” I slowly lift his bound wrists above my head to loop his arms around me as I bring them down. “You’re trying to hurt me, push me away, because you want to hide how much you care about me.”
“You’re overestimating my feelings for you. You were a distraction that landed my ass right back in jail. I shut the door on whatever happened between us the second you left me there. So, no. I don’t give a single fuck about you, your dad, or this case. I just want you to leave me the hell alone so I can rot in this place in peace.”
For a moment, I falter, guilt gripping me in its unforgiving tentacles. But then I remind myself that this is a ploy, a tactic to keep me at a distance. I don’t fall for it because even as he spits this pure, undiluted venom at me, I feel him hardening between my legs.
“So, you don’t care about me?”
“No.” He keeps his eyes locked on mine, as if that will somehow convince me he’s telling the truth. It doesn’t.
I lean down slightly, brushing my lips just over his ear. “Do you ever think about me?”
“No.” The word is jagged, razor-edged, like he’s using it to cut right into me. It does, but I persist.
“Not even when you’re alone...late at night.” I press a soft, lingering kiss just below his ear, my fingers sliding up to the back of his neck. “You don’t think about how it felt to kiss me, to have your mouth on mine?”
He says nothing. The only response I get is the eager twitch of his cock against me.
“You don’t think about my legs wrapped around your waist, or me moaning your name in ecstasy.” A choked groan escapes him when I grind against his cock. “You don’t remember what it feels like to be on top of me... inside me?”
“No.” The word is expelled with a heavy, ragged exhale.
“You don’t remember the symmetry of a moment just like this one?” My lips ghost over the corner of his mouth. “When you had me chained to a bed, my legs spread wide for you...and you had your wicked way with me?”
That imagery is his undoing. He sucks in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes as if that will get rid of the memories flashing through his mind. It doesn’t work. I know it doesn’t because I feel another delicious twitch against my crotch.
Yet even though he’s barely hanging on by a thread, his stubbornness prevails. It’s possible he’s more stubborn than me.
He keeps his expression neutral and forces himself to remain indifferent. “You’re nothing but a distant memory now, so distant you’re almost forgotten.”
“Then let me remind you.” My fingers skim over his chest, trailing along the lines of his jumpsuit as I slowly undo the buttons.
His breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, but I catch it. “What are you doing?”
“The door’s locked...and I have you in here for an hour.”
It’s the sultry promise in my voice that makes his eyes widen slightly. My reputation as a prude must precede me because he stares at me in disbelief.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
He realizes I’m not bluffing when my fingers move over his defined abs to the drawstring of his pants. “Katie.”
It’s another warning I don’t heed as I tug the strings loose.
“Stop.” He tries to sound firm, but his voice cracks, the raw edge of emotion bleeding through.
I feel his fists clench behind me as he fights himself, fights me. But it’s a losing battle. His arms are looped around me, so he has very few options to get me off him. He can’t do it without hurting me, which means he won’t do a damn thing. And knowing I have this advantage over him is an absolute thrill.
I’m high on power now, drunk with desire, intoxicated by the control I have over him. He probably felt just like this that night he had me handcuffed to the bed. Now I understand why he loved seeing me so helpless and completely at his mercy. It’s exhilarating.
When I stepped onto the prison grounds today, this wasn’t my intention. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. But I haven’t felt the warmth of his body in six weeks, and now the yearning to be closer to him is overwhelming, insatiable.
I press my lips to his cheek, testing his resolve, and he turns his head to avoid the contact. He tenses beneath me when my hand slips beneath his waistband, his breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts. He groans when I wrap my fingers around his cock, and there’s something so sexy about that sound. It’s soft and restrained, like it’s taking everything in him not to flip me onto this table.
“Tell me again that you don’t want me,” I whisper, tightening my grip around his shaft. “Tell me you don’t care. Tell me exactly how you feel about me.”
“Right now...” His eyes lock on mine, blazing with frustration, anger, and unadulterated lust. “I fucking hate you.”
I smile, not even offended by the harsh remarks. In fact, it spurs me on even more. I take a second to tug his pants down lower. His cock springs free, hard and ready for me. His thickness fills my hand again as I lean closer, but he turns away before I kiss him. It’s unclear why he’s still resisting when we both know it’s pointless.
I kiss my way along his jaw instead, my lips brushing against the stubble that scratches my skin. My hand moves faster, and his head drops against my shoulder. Fevered breaths fill the space between us, and he becomes more flustered with every rapid stroke. His entire body stiffens, the tension in him coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Muscles taut. Hands clenched. He wants me so bad he’s shaking.
I realize how similar we are because I, too, am not above using this weakness against him. It’s at this moment, when he’s desperate and needy, that I dip my head and lightly skim the edges of his mouth with my tongue. He freezes for a heartbeat, his body rigid beneath me.
I shift, lifting my skirt another inch to press closer against him. I’m not sure if it’s the softness of my thighs against his forearm or the dampness of my silk panties that sends this man over the edge, but he flies off the rails faster than a bullet train going at full speed.
His mouth crashes against mine, fierce and ravenous. His kiss is wild, feral, an eruption of all his anger and frustration.
“Fuck it,” he rasps. “You win.”
His teeth graze my bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth. His bound hands are clumsy as he tries to grip my hips as tightly as they can. My nails rake over his scalp, holding him to me like he’s the air I need to breathe. My lips burn under his, the heat of him igniting something deep inside me.
A hot mouth trails down my neck, biting, sucking, leaving a searing path of sensation. His hips buck up, his tip impatiently seeking entry.
“Now,” he orders. “I want to fuck you right now.”
I’ve never considered myself petty or vengeful but hearing that unlocks a side of me I didn’t know existed. “Ask me nicely.”
His eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth, hating every second before he submits and gives me what I want. “ Please ...” His face scrunches as if the word is so bitter it burns his tongue. “...let me make sweet, sweet love to you.”
The sarcasm in that statement draws a giggle out of me. My hand moves down between us and sneaks beneath my skirt. I shift my panties to the side, and he groans when he feels my moisture coating his tip.
I rub against him, taunting him, teasing him until he asks for more. But he doesn’t ask. He just takes what he wants. His bound hands yank me against him, the chains rattling as he forces himself inside me.
He smirks, a mixture of his indignation and the satisfaction of seeing the shock on my face. “I don’t ask twice.”
I shift my hips, trying to adjust to his girth. “You smile now?”
That adorable smile widens, but it’s still laced with an ample amount of frustration. “God, you drive me... insane .”
He nudges my hips, and they begin to rock against him. Thick and hard, he hits that sweet spot deep inside me.
“Unbutton your shirt.”
It’s another order, and in my haze of ecstasy, I can’t find the will to argue. My hands are frantic as I undo the buttons, and the sight of my breasts bouncing turns him on in a way I haven’t seen before.
His hands clasp around my back, and he pulls me closer. His hot mouth trails down my neck, his teeth scraping along the curve of my shoulder, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. A guttural sound echoes in his throat, the sound vibrating against my collarbone as his lips press there, firm and insistent.
I tilt my head back, giving him more access, and he takes it, his lips moving hungrily over every inch of my exposed skin. My pulse pounds beneath his mouth, and I gyrate my hips before hitting harder against him.
The way his cock moves inside me feels electric, crackling through me like a live wire. I chase my own pleasure, the chair lightly screeching against the floor as the urgency builds within us. My fingers trail down his jaw, over the faint stubble that scratches my skin, before sliding down to his chest. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
The chains clink again as he shifts, pulling me closer, trying to find some way to hold me. “Fuck,” he rasps, his breath hot against my skin, his voice trembling with a mix of need and frustration.
I press my lips to his again, silencing whatever protest he’s trying to make. His tongue sweeps over mine, and I feel the world tilt, like nothing else exists but him—his heat, his strength, the way our bodies are fused together.
I quicken my pace, my breaths coming out in hasty puffs. He bites into my shoulder, trying to stifle every rapturous sound he makes as his climax draws closer. The little wrinkle on his forehead is the first sign. His body stiffening is the second. But then he shuts his eyes, and after a strained groan, I feel warm liquid trickling down my thigh.
I don’t stop, though. I’m too close. Gripping onto the back of the chair, I ride him harder and faster until I burst. The pressure releases and euphoric waves of pleasure ripple through me.
Sated and breathless, I drop my forehead onto his. I hold him close and wait to feel normal again. “I hope I proved my point,” I say after a long while.
He’s still huffing. “Which is?”
“You can’t push me away. You didn’t leave me, so I’m not leaving you. I won’t give up on you. Trust me...I’ll keep fighting until I get you out of here.”
His arms tighten around me, and he nestles his head in the curve of my neck. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“It’s not what you did, it’s what you going to do,” I whisper, lifting his head for him to look at me again. “You’ll testify, right? You’ll do it for me?”
He lets out an irritable groan because he clearly still hates this idea. “You’re slowly proving that I’d do just about anything for you.”