Chapter 29 #2
“I knew we could count on you, sweetheart. Come on. Let’s go. I see you’re injured. I’m going to get you all patched up.”
He stands up, reaches a hand out, and I grab it. He pulls me up, then helps me walk to a car parked a little while away.
He was telling the truth. There’s no one here but him.
We reach the driver’s side, and he opens the door, gesturing with his head to the passenger’s seat.
I take a step forward, so that I’m standing right behind him, then whisper, “Mr. Mattson?”
He turns around, smiling. He’s still smiling, a frozen, sickly sort of grin, when the steak knife in my hand plunges into his heart.
And then, I find myself doing it again and again, fury strangling me as I think of how he so gleefully spoke about frying Damien. And about how he so paternalistically called me sweetheart.
The blade goes in and out, in and out, all over his stomach and chest as he stares at me in utter shock and confusion.
And then, in a final choking sound, his body topples over to the ground, unmoving.
I don’t waste any time. I fumble through his pockets until I’ve found the nanochip. I return to the lake and throw it, as far as it will go, into the water.
“Well, well, well.”
I freeze.
The voice is cold and raspy. I recognize it. Vale Jameson.
“I was not expecting that when I told Mattson where to find you. Guess you have a little bit more loyalty in your bones than I gave you credit for. Too bad you’ll die at the hands of a guy who doesn’t give a shit.”
I whirl around to face the Devil. His eyes look me up and down, taking in my appearance. They rest for a moment on my shirt, which clings, soaked, to my wound.
“So, you didn’t die after all. You really are a wriggly thing, aren’t you, pet? You can’t just let yourself die. Don’t you get sick of flailing around helplessly like a fucking fish?”
I try to swallow the anger surging through me.
“You betrayed them,” I accuse him. “You’ve had the nanochip from the beginning. You convinced them I had it. You… you’ve been working with Angel. And the FBI.”
He claps his hands slowly in a mocking gesture.
“Good job, pet.” He speaks my nickname derisively. “Stellar deduction skills. Too bad you’ll be dead before you can share your discovery with anyone else.”
He grabs me by the collar and drags me through a thicket of trees. Behind it is his own car, carefully concealed from view.
“Get in,” he grunts, pushing me into the passenger seat.
He slams the car door shut behind me and I hear the lock click. Vaguely, I hear him moving something heavy into the trunk of the car, grunting with effort. I’m too exhausted to try to escape, and besides, it’s no use. I’m stuck in a locked car.
Then he slides into the driver’s seat. He slips the ignition key in and turns on the engine before reversing onto the main road. He presses down on the gas pedal, sending the car barreling down the street, so fast that I lose my breath. He sure is giving Logan a run for his money.
I grimace in pain, leaning back on the seat. I’m aware he hasn’t tied me up, probably because he figures I’m too injured to go far. But now that I know, all I can think of is Damien.
Maybe I can reach him yet. Maybe I can convince him. Beg him to listen.
I choke down a sob as I remember his arms around me, the feel of his lips against mine. I’m not ready to die anymore. I need him so bad. Even after everything that’s happened, the idea of leaving this Earth without seeing him again is unbearable.
Distantly, I hear Vale chuckling. The asshole probably finds my distress amusing.
I find myself sinking into a fitful, unnatural sleep as he drives on, past both Oakley and Astley, down a highway I don’t recognize.
After some time, I’m shaken roughly awake.
“Thank God,” he mutters. “Thought you were dead.”
I blink up at him in confusion, my eyes focusing first on his bloody hands then on him.
Bloody hands... bloody hands... what has he done? What have I done?
“I want to have my fun with you before you die,” he smirks, and I see something of Igor’s hunger in his eyes as he yanks me out by the arm.
The cold night air forces me out of my hazy state of mind. He’s driven off the highway into a tiny path. We’re in the middle of a great forest, and it’s so dark I can’t see a thing.
“I like games,” he says. “Do you?”
I don’t answer, but he’s not expecting me to.
“I really enjoyed that poker game where Damien lost you to Logan,” he chortles. “So, I figured we would play another game. This one is called, Run as fast as you can, bitch.” He takes a gun from the breast pocket of his coat, and I cringe as he raises it in the air.
“Don’t worry,” he soothes me mockingly. “No one can hear us out here. They won’t hear you scream in pain and beg for mercy. You’ll be doing both, by the time I’m done with you. Now start running.”
He aims the gun at the sky and pulls the trigger. The moment I hear the explosive detonation, my survival instinct kicks in. I hit the ground running.
I know he’s just behind me, and I run as fast as I can, panic overwhelming me.
My arms and legs are scratched by the brambles hanging low, my dress is caught in the thorns, I can barely breathe.
I run blindly, faster than I ever have, through shrubbery, between trees, their branches whipping at me, my dress soon reduced to rags, my body covered in scratches and oozing welts.
I force myself onward, adrenaline helping me to overcome the pain in my stomach that still stabs at me, the haphazard stitches coming undone from my effort.
I’m bleeding everywhere, and still, I keep running.
Just die already, I think to myself, but I can’t do it. I just can’t.
It’s not fair.
The old childish refrain makes my body spasm with anger and bittersweet regret. Why, God, why? Why did you give me such a shitty life? Why can’t I be like one of those happy people I see on TV, interviewed about the weather?
Yes, it’s very hot out today, but we’re keeping cool, my dog and I. Just out for a jog in the early morning and then we’ll stay inside and drink a lot of water.
Yeah, well, fuck you too.
I choke out a sob, thinking of those smiling idiots leading their happy, asinine little lives, as I lay dying in a forest, chased by a guy with a gun, all because…
I have no idea.
Because I got caught up in something I have nothing to do with. And now, I’m paying for it.
Because I fell in love with a man who doesn’t give a shit about me, and when I tried to escape the pain it caused me, I was punished for it.
Because I’m Seraphina Connor, and that’s my lot in life. To suffer, and then to die, like the sad little jellyfish I am.
That last thought is the one that rings truest. I let my bitter tears fall for a few moments, allowing myself to sink into the thought of It’s not fair, allowing the words to hit me like a ton of bricks.
I succumb for just a few moments to self-pity before dashing my tears away angrily, and come to a stop in the middle of a tiny clearing, breathing in great gulps of air and taking stock of where I am.
Dense trees and shrubbery surround me. The branches are so thick, dripping with such foliage, that the sky is blotted out. I can’t tell if it’s morning or night anymore. No ray of sun or moon pierces through the leaves. It’s pitch black.
I hear his thundering footsteps grow nearer. He must know this forest well. Either that, or I’ve left an easy trail of blood for him to follow.
I can feel him closing in, but my stupid body won’t let me give up, even as my lifeforce leaves me, making me feel faint.
I spot a boulder in the distance, just behind a thicket of trees, and crouch behind it, pushing a sweaty palm down on my mouth to keep myself from making noise. It’s pointless, though. My breathing is so labored I’m pretty sure everyone in a one-mile radius can hear.
I hear his taunting, cruel voice, and my hands clench into fists. He’s laughing at me. My pain and fear are big, fucking jokes to him. I’m a joke.
I’ve been a lot of things in my life. A pathetic jellyfish, a needy captive, but I’ve never yet been a joke.
The three men in my life before I was kidnapped used me, but they didn’t find me funny.
Damien laughed at me a lot, but even now, after my cruel disillusionment, I can’t believe he truly saw me as a joke.
Everest certainly didn’t. Igor... well, Igor was probably too stupid to see me as anything.
No, I wasn’t a joke to any of them. Not even to Logan.
I realize that for the first time as Vale’s laugh grows louder.
As the danger closes in, my thoughts inexplicably turn to Logan. Sudden understanding dawns on me. My suffering was never a punchline to him. Under the cruel bullying, he cared. Cared about Devil, but mostly, about Damien. He loved him, and he protected him.
Just like I did, when I killed that agent.
I close my eyes, letting a nice feeling wash over me as the footsteps draw nearer. At least, I will have done something useful before I die. It doesn’t matter that Damien doesn’t love me. What matters is that I love him, and I saved him.
I let my thoughts drift back to Damien. The feel of his hands against my body. His lips on mine. The way he made me feel such pain, and such pleasure too. All of it entwined. Sensations I’d never felt before. The way he got me to hand over control, for the first time in my life.
It felt so good to lose control. To feel that he possessed me. To feel that he took care of me, in his way.
If only I hadn’t messed it all up…
He liked to play games too. I smile slightly at the memory of that game of hide-and-seek. I was so scared. So scared, and so turned on.
I hear another loud report, and cringe again as the thundering sound echoes through the forest. I look down at my stomach, but the bleeding there hasn’t gotten worse. It doesn’t seem as though I’ve been hit. Maybe he’s just shooting wildly to scare me. I stay crouched behind the boulder, shivering.