Chapter 2
Chapter Two
RHETT
T he taste of her lips lingers on mine, sweet and salty, tinged with the remnants of blood and sweat. My heart is still pounding, my skin flushed with the thrill of having her, but I’m not done yet. She’s mine, and I’ll carve that truth into her soul, just like I carved Jonah out of our way.
Cara’s body trembles against me, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. The way she’s looking at me—fear mixed with the haze of pleasure—is intoxicating. She’s broken, just as I wanted, and there’s nothing more beautiful than seeing her like this, utterly at my mercy.
I step back, watching as she struggles to keep her balance, her legs weak from the intensity of our encounter. Her eyes meet mine, and I see the question there—the fear, the confusion, the desire. She doesn’t understand how much she means to me, or how far I’ll go to keep her.
But she will. I’ll make sure of that.
I grab her by the wrist, yanking her toward me as I feel the pulse of my own desires still throbbing through my veins. There’s a fine line between love and obsession, between protecting and controlling, and I’ve crossed it willingly. She needs to know that, to understand that there’s no turning back now.
“Look at me, Cara,” I command, my voice low and firm. She hesitates, her gaze flicking to the knife on the floor before slowly lifting to meet mine.
“Rhett…” Her voice is shaky and laced with fear.
I cup her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes, to see the raw truth in them. “You belong to me— only me . No one else will ever fucking touch you. I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”
Her breath catches, and I see the conflict in her eyes. I know she’s torn. There’s still a tiny part of her clinging to the remnants of her old life, the life before she became mine. But that part is quickly fading, weakening with every touch and every word I speak.
“Rhett, this isn’t—” she starts, but I cut her off, pressing my bloodied thumb against her lips.
“Shh,” I whisper, leaning in close so she can feel my breath against her skin. “Don’t lie to yourself. You felt it, didn’t you? That connection between us? That’s real, Cara. That’s something no one else can give you.”
I know she knows it’s true. My girl might not be ready to admit it to herself yet, but she knows it.
She wants me.
Her eyes flutter shut, and I feel the tremor that runs through her body, the way she melts into my touch despite herself. She’s fighting it, but it’s a losing fucking battle.
And I’ve already won.
I lean down, pressing my lips to her ear, my voice dropping to a hushed, intimate tone. “Say it, little nightmare. Say you’re mine.”
She doesn’t respond for a moment, and I feel the tension in her body as she struggles with the weight of the truth. But then, slowly, her lips part, and she breathes out the words that seal our fate.
“I’m yours, Rhett.” Her words are soft, but they’re there.
Fuck . Her surrender sounds like a goddamn drug, flooding my senses with euphoria. I’ve never felt more alive, more powerful. I knew she wanted this.
I knew my girl wanted me, craved me just as much as I did her. And now, she’s mine in every way that matters; there’s no escaping that now.
I pull back, letting my eyes roam over her face, taking in the flushed cheeks, the teary eyes, the way she’s trembling with the aftermath of everything we’ve just shared. She’s goddamn perfect, even in her brokenness. Fuck, especially in her brokenness.
“We’re going to build something beautiful together, Cara,” I murmur, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “But first, you need to understand—there’s no running from this. From us. If you ever try to leave me…”
I let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but clear. Her eyes widen, but she nods, the fear in her gaze mixed with a dark, twisted acceptance.
I smile, satisfied with her submission. I know this isn’t the end. My girl is tough, and there’s still more fight in her, but tonight, she’s spent. Tonight, she has no energy left for this little game. There are still pieces of her that need to be molded so she can see just how perfect we are for each other. So that she can accept me, us .
But she’s close. So fucking close.
I step back, releasing her wrist and watching as she slowly sinks to the floor, her body giving out from exhaustion. She’s beautiful like this, vulnerable and at my mercy, just as she should be.
Reaching down, I gently lift her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her head rests against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. I carry her through the darkened house, up the stairs, and into the bathroom, sitting her down gently on the side of the tub.
Turning the chrome faucet, I fill the bath for Cara, watching the water and steam rise and the mirrors become fogged. The scent of vanilla fills the air as I pour in the soap, creating thick, luxurious bubbles. The warmth of the water and the softness of the bubbles—they’re all for her. To help her relax and understand that I might be rough, but I’m not a fucking monster.
Not entirely, anyway.
I care, and I need her to know just how important taking care of my possessions is to me.
I turn to see her sitting on the tub, her eyes wide. She’s still frightened. But there’s no need for that. Not anymore. I walk over and gently help her to her feet. I slide the remnants of her torn and tattered costume down her body and steady her as she steps out of it before I guide her to the tub. She doesn’t resist, surprisingly. But I guess she’s running on empty after what she’s been through tonight. Her body is weak and exhausted after my assault.
I doubt anyone has fucked her as hard as I did, so being this sore, this exhausted is new to her.
She steps into the tub, using me for support, and I ease her into the water.
“Just relax, little nightmare,” I whisper, my voice as calm as the water enveloping her. “I’ll take care of you.”
I pick up the sponge, soaking it in the warm water before running it gently over her skin, washing away the dirt and grime from the pumpkin patch. I can see the tension leaving her body, her muscles unwinding as I wash her with slow, deliberate strokes. She leans into the touch, and for a moment, I think my girl finally understands—she knows that this is how it’s supposed to be.
That, with me, is where she belongs.
When I reach her hair, I pour water over it, using my fingers to brush out the dried leaves and chunks of dirt as I feel the silky dark strands slip between my fingers. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, I squeeze some onto my hands before massaging it into her scalp and working it into a lather. She sighs, melting under my touch, and I can’t help but smile.
She’s finally mine. All fucking mine.
Just like we both wanted.
Everything I did to get here, to this fucking moment with my girl, was worth it. The blood I shed, the cameras, the stalking, all of it brought me here, and fuck if tonight hasn’t been the best fucking night of my life. But it wasn’t only my doing.
All the small things my little nightmare did to get my attention helped ensure I’d be right where I am now, because even she wanted this.
Sure, she may not have loved my gift as much as I expected, but I’ll blame that on the night's events. Maybe I shouldn’t have spooked her so much in the corn maze, and then again in the pumpkin patch, but she had it coming.
Going out like that, in that tiny little dress. Showing off that perfect little inked body, she’s just lucky it was me she crossed paths with and not fucking Jonah.
At least for once, she actually had her needs met.
Even if I did go out of my way to ensure it.
When I’m done rinsing her hair, I lift her out of the water, pull a black towel off a hook on the wall, and wrap it around her body. I gently wipe her off, making sure every inch of her is warm and dry. Then, I lift her back into my arms before carrying her down the hall to her bedroom. I can’t help but wonder if she’s confused about the fact that I know my way around her house, because after how fucked up she was when I brought her home that night, there’s no way she remembers me being here.
I help her into clean clothes, soft and comfortable, before guiding her back to the bed. She looks at me, and there’s something in her eyes—something like resignation. She’s learning. She’s finally starting to understand.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the handcuffs, securing one around her wrist and the other to the bed frame. She doesn’t fight it, just watches me with those wide, tired eyes. I brush a strand of wet hair from her face, smiling down at her.
“Get some rest, little nightmare,” I say softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
The next morning, I’m up early. Cara is still asleep, her breathing even and slow. I stand over her, watching her for a moment before making my way downstairs. Plopping down on the couch, I pull out my phone and open the browser. I can’t leave her alone, not yet. The house isn’t adequately secured, and before I can ensure she can’t escape, I need some supplies. I’ll have to order everything we need online and have it delivered.
I order food and supplies—everything we’ll need for the next few weeks. I make sure to include plenty of her favorites, anything to keep my girl happy. She deserves that.
After everything, she needs to be treated well.
Besides, what better way to let her know how much I care?
Once the order is complete, I move on to securing the house. I’ve already gone over it a hundred times, but now I need to make sure it’s perfect. Every window, every door—I check them all, reinforcing the locks and adding more to the doors; that way, if she somehow manages to get free, it will take her a while to escape.
I board up the windows so she can’t see out of them. I even install more cameras, pulling them out from the hidden compartment in my phone case.
I position them carefully, ensuring they cover every angle and possible escape route. She won’t get out. Not even if she somehow manages to free herself. This house—it’s our sanctuary, our prison, our home. And I’ll make sure it’s perfect for us.
When I’m finally satisfied with the security, I step back and take a deep breath. The house is quiet, still. The only sound is the faint hum of the cameras. Everything is in place. Everything is perfect.
But there’s one last thing to take care of.
I head to the garden in the backyard, shovel in hand. The earth is soft from the recent rain, making it easy to dig the hole. I choose a spot between a bush and a tree toward the back of the yard and start digging. When it’s deep enough, I make my way to the front porch where we left my little gift last night—Jonah’s head. His face is still frozen with that last moment of surprise I carved into it. Eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. I tuck the decaying chunk of flesh under my arm, the ears I severed off last night still shoved in his mouth. I have something else in mind. A better, more fitting item for Jonah to have in his mouth while he rots in the dirt. Pulling the ears from his mouth, I shove one into each eye socket before making my way to the back of the house.
Reaching the hole I dug, I smirk as I pull the cob of corn from my pocket—the one I had used on Cara. I shove it into Jonah’s mouth, forcing it past the jagged carving wound.
“Enjoy eternity, Jonah,” I mutter, tossing the head into the hole. “Now you can spend it with the taste of what you missed out on coating your tongue with.”
I bury the head, patting the earth down firmly before standing back. The yard looks the same as it always has, but now it holds a secret—a reminder of what happens when anyone tries to come between me and what’s mine.
I head back inside, wiping the dirt from my hands. Cara is still sleeping, still oblivious. Everything is ready. Everything is finally as it should be. All I can do now is wait for my little nightmare to wake up and see if she’ll be as cooperative as she was when she went to sleep or if that feisty side of her wants to go another round.