Chapter 33 Dove
DOVE
My head throbbed as I slowly regained consciousness, the darkness around me pressing down like a suffocating weight. The air was thick and cold, tasting of metal and dampness, and the smell of mold and decay clung to my skin.
My hands were bound tightly behind me, wrists raw from the friction, and my legs were shackled, cold stone pressing against the back of my thighs. Every part of my body ached, and yet, the deep, gnawing fear in my gut was the worst of it.
My breathing came in shallow, frantic bursts as my eyes strained to make sense of the shadows. They flickered, shifting in the dim light from a lone, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling.
The room was small, oppressive; the walls closing in like a tomb. I could barely make out the faint outlines of cold, gray stone, the kind of stone that seemed to absorb all warmth, all life.
And then, I heard it.
The soft sound of footsteps echoed through the room—heavy, deliberate. Each step was slow, calculated, like the footsteps of someone who knew they were in complete control.
Bentley James.
I didn’t need to see him to know it was him. I could feel him, the darkness around me thickening as his presence grew closer.
My breath hitched as I tried to twist my body away, but the ropes kept me trapped, the metal shackles digging deeper into my flesh as I fought against them.
My heart raced as I tried to breathe, tried to steady myself, but the panic was rising, clawing at my throat.
The footsteps stopped.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, tall and imposing, his presence suffocating.
Bentley James. I could barely see him clearly, just a silhouette, but I could feel the malice radiating off him.
He was all angles—tall, broad, with dark, sharp eyes that pierced the darkness.
The cold, cruel smile on his lips sent a tremor down my spine. He was a predator, and I was his prey.
“I see you’re awake,” Bentley’s voice slithered through the silence, low and smooth, like something that shouldn’t belong to a man but to a thing far darker, far more dangerous. His voice alone made my skin crawl.
My pulse raced as I twisted my body further away from him, my throat dry, heart pounding. My thoughts scrambled, racing for an escape that wasn’t there.
He chuckled, a dark, sickening sound that made my stomach turn.
“You’re wondering how long I’ve been waiting, aren’t you?
How long I’ve been biding my time for this moment.
” He stepped closer, his shadow consuming me, and I could feel the temperature drop even more, the coldness seeping into my bones.
His voice dropped even lower, mocking, cruel. “Eight years, Dove. Eight long years.”
My breath hitched. Eight years? It felt like a lifetime ago, when my world was ripped apart. When everything I knew was taken from me. My parents, murdered. And now, here I was, bound and helpless. It didn’t make sense.
“You remember them, don’t you?” Bentley’s voice was a slow, torturous tease, dragging each word out like a knife slicing through her chest. “How could you forget? After all, I made sure it was… special. A welcome home gift.”
His laugh echoed in the room, sending a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The darkness closed in tighter, pressing against me, suffocating me.
My eyes filled with tears that I refused to shed, my throat tight with the weight of his words.
The memories were so fresh, so real, even now.
The blood, the violence that tore my world apart in a single night.
It had been a massacre, and Bentley had been the one to paint the walls with my parents’ blood.
“I’ve waited, Dove,” Bentley continued, his voice turning more guttural, more vicious, as he paced around me.
“Eight years, and now… now, I finally have you.” He stopped just in front of me, crouching so that our faces were inches apart.
His breath was fetid, hot against my skin, and his eyes gleamed with something sickening—something that made me want to scream and run, but I couldn’t.
“And you’re going to regret running from me.
No one is going to save you. Not this time. ”
My heart thundered in my chest, the ropes digging painfully into my wrists as I struggled against them. My body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the sheer terror that was crawling through my veins like poison.
Bentley’s eyes bored into mine, gleaming with malice and something worse—something that chilled me to the bone. I could see it in his eyes. The obsession. The hunger. The twisted pleasure he derived from my pain.
“No one is coming for you, Dove,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a mocking tone, cold and venomous. “Not anyone. You’re mine now.”
His hand reached out, brushing my cheek, and the touch was like ice, sending a violent shudder through my body. I wanted to scream, to break free, but the fear, the realization that I was truly alone, kept me paralyzed.
Bentley’s lips curled into a sick grin as he leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “And this time, Dove… I’m going to make sure you never forget who did this to you.”
My mind reeled, the suffocating terror creeping up my throat. How had it come to this? How had I gone from the woman I used to be to this broken shell, helpless and trapped in the darkness?
Bentley stood, his figure towering over me once more as I felt the suffocating weight of his presence pressing against me.
And I knew, with a sickening certainty, that my nightmare had just begun.
Bentley’s dark eyes gleamed as he watched my terror grow.
He was like a spider, methodically drawing out my fear, relishing every tremor that wracked my body.
He could smell it—the raw, tangible fear in the air, the way my chest heaved, the way my body trembled as if every fiber of my being was trying to escape him, but there was nowhere to run.
He moved closer, so close now that his breath brushed against my face, foul and hot.
The faint smell of decay lingered on his skin, and the hairs on my neck stood on end.
The rope that bound my wrists dug deeper into my flesh, but I couldn’t focus on the pain.
All my mind could do was scream, scream to get away, scream to get out, but the words were trapped in my throat.
Bentley reached down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His fingers dug into my skin, his grip strong, unyielding, as if he were trying to imprint himself into my soul. His eyes bored into mine with the intensity of a predator savoring its prey.
“Do you think you’re better than me?” His voice was a soft hiss, the words venomous, dripping with disgust. “You thought you could run. You thought you could hide. You thought you were safe.”
My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to speak, wanted to tell him that he was wrong, but my tongue was heavy, like I was suffocating under the weight of his gaze.
Bentley’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “But you’re not safe, Dove. Not from me. Not anymore.”
He slowly ran his fingers across my cheek, caressing my face as if he were savoring the moment.
I recoiled, but the ropes kept me frozen in place.
He laughed softly, the sound twisted, manic.
“Did you think you were free? Did you think they would come for you? No one is coming, Dove. No one but me. You’re mine now.
You’ve always been mine. And you’ll never escape me again. ”
He leaned in, his breath searing my skin, his mouth almost touching my ear.
“Do you want to know what I did to your parents, Dove?” His voice was low, guttural, as if savoring every word.
“I made it slow. I made them scream. They begged me for mercy. But I didn’t give them any,” he whispered, dragging out the words.
“And now, I’m going to make you beg too. ”
My stomach churned. The images of my parents’ final moments flashed in my mind like a nightmarish slideshow.
I tried to block them out, but they kept coming, kept repeating.
The sound of silence. The sight of blood.
So much blood and nothing left of them that I could recognise.
Just so much blood. It was too much. It was too real.
I hadn’t witnessed what he’d done or even seen their last moments, but I could imagine it.
I never even got to say goodbye. He had taken that away from me, too.
Bentley’s grin widened as he saw the way I flinched, the way I couldn’t hide the pain in my eyes. “That’s right, Dove. You remember. You remember the fear. You remember what it feels like to be powerless, to be at my mercy. And it’s allcoming back.”
He stepped back, eyes flicking over my helpless form. I could feel him circling me, prowling like a lion sizing up its prey. His shadow loomed over me like the embodiment of my darkest nightmares. The silence in the room was deafening, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“Do you think I’ve forgotten you?” He suddenly barked, his tone rising.
“No. I’ve never forgotten you. I’ve waited years for this.
YEARS!” His voice grew louder, his anger palpable, and I flinched again, as if expecting him to strike me.
But his hand stayed still. Instead, he grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face closer to his.
“And you know what? I deserved this. I deserved the right to do this to you. To punish you for being the one that got away. The one that survived.”
The surrounding air grew colder, the temperature dropping like the room itself was freezing from the inside out. He was enjoying this. He was soaking up my pain like a sponge.
He moved even closer, his mouth brushing against my ear. “Tell me, Dove,” he whispered, “do you feel it? That darkness crawling inside of you, that fear… you know, I think it’s getting comfortable, isn’t it? I think it’s starting to feel like home.”