14. Briar
Chapter Fourteen
brIAR
Isit on the cold wooden floor, staring at my phone but there is no new text. Is he still watching? Still listening?
I bite my lip hard and press play on the video again.
The candlelight flickers across his tall, broad frame as he moves over me, the black hellebore petals scattered across my skin, it almost looks ritualistic. His hands, strong, big but so careful as they peel my dress away. The way he looks at me…
Why didn’t he fuck me?
He could have. I was completely helpless, and yet he didn’t take it, he only gave.
I watch him kiss down my body, worshiping every inch. When his head settles between my thighs and he tastes me, a broken sound escapes my throat. My hand slides between my legs without thinking. I’m soaked.
“Oh God…” I breathe out, fingers circling my clit as I watch him devour me on the screen. His deep, gravelly groan vibrates through the phone when he slides a finger inside me.
My breathing turns ragged. My hips roll against my hand as the video plays on, his tongue working me, his shoulders flexing, the way my unconscious body arches for him. When he growls that low, wrecked “Fuck” my orgasm crashes into me.
I moan loud, thighs shaking, back arching off the cold floor as pleasure rips through me. For one delirious second I hope he’s still watching. That he can see what he does to me.
I stay there for a long moment, chest heaving, phone forgotten on the floor beside me.
He cleaned me afterward. He held me. He laid me down gently and placed a hellebore on my chest.
He didn’t take anything for himself.
Something about this makes me feel strange, like there is something about him that feels safe—no. He’s not safe, also how the hell am I supposed to stay here with all the cameras that I can’t find.
I text Lucille, telling her everything is fine and that I’m spending the day deep cleaning.
Deep cleaning my ass. I’m going to find those damn cameras even if I have to tear down the walls.
It’s been five hours and I’ve already found three cameras.
I really doubt that’s all of them. As for microphones, I haven’t found anything yet. Maybe they’re built into the cameras? I honestly don’t know what the hell I’m even looking for anymore. I’ve torn apart my apartment like a madwoman, checking every corner, every socket, every stupid lampshade.
He’s been very quiet. I keep expecting a text telling me to stop, or threatening me, but nothing. What if he already got what he wanted last night and that’s it?
And why does that thought make my chest feel strangely heavy?
I can’t be falling for a stalker. That’s actually insane. Maybe I should call Luke… or some other guy. Someone normal. Someone safe.
I glance at the clock. I could walk to the bar on the next block. Just one drink to take the edge off. Now that I know my stalker doesn’t want to physically hurt me… at least not in the violent way I feared… maybe it’s okay.
I take a quick shower, dry my hair and leave it in natural waves. I throw on black jeans, my combat boots, a black turtleneck sweater, and my fluffy coat. A little eye makeup and nude lipstick. Simple. Quick.
The walk to the bar is cold and damp, but the rain has stopped. The chill bites at my cheeks and helps wash away some of the suffocating anxiety from the last twenty-four hours. The cold makes me feel alive.
The bar is only half full, typical for early Saturday evening. Mostly men in small groups. I slide onto a high stool at the counter.
“One cider, please.”
The bartender nods and slides me a glass with ice and a can. I pour and take a long sip. It hits my empty stomach fast. Not the smartest idea, but smart decisions haven’t exactly been my strong suit lately.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
A guy sits down beside me. Tall, lean, with a blond pony tail, dark eyes, tattoos peeking out from under his suit sleeve. He’s cute. Clean. Normal.
“Hi,” I reply, forcing a small smile. My mind immediately drifts to the stalker. This guy isn’t him. And for some messed-up reason, that realization stings.
“You’re alone?” he asks, leaning over his beer.
“Yeah.” I turn toward him, trying to focus. “I’m Briar.”
“Tom.” He gives me a gentle, easy smile.
My phone vibrates on the bar top. I glance down.
“Don’t talk to anyone. Tell me where you are and with who?”
I frown and look around the dimly lit bar.
“You okay?” Tom asks.
“Yeah, sorry.” I smile at him. “So… you new around here?”
We talk. He moved here recently for work. Doesn’t know many people. I offer to show him around sometime. He seems nice.
My phone vibrates again.
“Briar. I won’t ask again.”
I bite my lip. Why should I obey him? He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t get to control who I talk to.
I keep chatting with Tom. When he offers to walk me out, I accept.
“I’ll wait until you get a cab or something,” he says, holding the door open for me. “It’s dangerous to walk alone this late.”
The night air is colder now. Fog curls thick through the streets, glowing under the streetlights. My cheeks burn from the sudden chill.
I pull out my phone to order a ride. Tom stands close beside me.
When I look up to thank him, something in his eyes shifts. His entire face changes, the friendly smile gone, replaced by something cold and sharp.
Oh no.
I try to scream as he slams into me, shoving me hard into the dark alley. His hand clamps brutally over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air.
“He didn’t say you were this hot,” he growls against my ear, licking a wet stripe up my cheek. “Maybe I’ll take you for myself first.”
“Please—” I cry into his palm, the word muffled and broken.
“Hmm, I love when they beg.” He presses me harder against the cold, wet stone wall, his body heavy and suffocating. His knee forces its way between my thighs, grinding painfully against me. “Just a little taste before I hand you over.”
Tears stream down my face. I thrash, trying to knee him, trying to bite his hand, but he’s stronger. His free hand gropes my breast roughly, squeezing hard enough to bruise. The fog swirls thick around us, muffling everything except the sound of my panicked breathing and his low, excited grunts.
My mind fractures.
Suddenly I’m back there, years ago, cold hands pinning me down, laughter echoing in a dark stairwell, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat.
The same helpless terror floods me. My body locks up.
I stop fighting. I close my eyes and go somewhere far away, the way I learned to back then. Just let it happen. Just survive.
His hand slides lower, roughly yanking at the waistband of my jeans.
Then, a feral, inhuman roar splits the night.
Tom is suddenly ripped off me with terrifying force. He flies across the alley and crashes into the opposite wall with a sickening thud.
A tall, massive figure is on him instantly.
Fists rain down, fast, brutal, merciless. The sound of bone meeting flesh echoes wetly in the fog. Blood sprays across the dirty ground as he pounds into Tom’s face again and again. The green eyes I recognize flash with pure, unfiltered rage in the dim light.
He doesn’t stop.
Blood coats his gloved knuckles. Tom’s head lolls, limp and broken.
Then the stalker turns toward me.
“Go home! Now, Briar!” He snarls, voice low and dangerous, chest heaving.
I can’t move. My legs won’t work. I’m still pressed against the cold wall, tears streaming down my face, mind caught between past and present.
He moves fast, grabbing my shoulders with blood-warm hands.
“I need you to move,” he says, shaking me gently but urgently. “Go home. Run. Don’t fucking stop!”
The command breaks through the fog in my head. A loud, broken cry tears from my throat. I look up at those forest-green eyes, the only thing visible through the mask and shadows, and something snaps.
I shove him off me and run.
I run as fast as my legs will carry me, boots slapping against wet pavement, fog swallowing me whole. My heart thunders in my ears. Tears blur my vision. Every shadow feels like it’s reaching for me, but I don’t stop.
Not until I’m far away from that alley.
Not until the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing and the distant, fading screams of violence behind me.
I run up the stairs, hands shaking so badly I can barely get the key into the lock. The second I’m inside I slam the door shut and turn the alarm on with trembling fingers. I sprint to the kitchen, grab the biggest knife I own, and clutch it against my chest as I back into the living room.
I stand there in the dark, breathing hard, staring at the door. Minutes crawl by. My heart is hammering so violently I feel sick. I reach for my phone, it’s gone. I must have dropped it in the alley when Tom shoved me.
Shit. I can’t call the cops, but I can scream. Loud enough to wake the entire building if I have to.
I keep staring at the clock. The longer nothing happens, the more I start to breathe again. Maybe he didn’t follow me. Maybe I actually got away—
A soft click breaks the silence.
The lock turns.
The door opens.
A massive figure steps inside calmly, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Black hoodie pulled low. Black mask covering the lower half of his face. Forest-green eyes glinting in the dim light.
He looks at me. Then at the knife I’m pressing against my own stomach.
He turns to the alarm panel and enters the code. The beeping stops.
My mouth falls open.
How the hell does he know the code Lucille chose? How does he have a key?
He closes the door behind him with a quiet finality and walks toward me, slow and deliberate, like a predator who already knows he’s won.
“Are you going to use that?” His voice is low, deep, almost gentle as he nods at the knife.
I nod frantically, tears burning my eyes.
“Okay then.” He pulls his hoodie down. Messy black hair falls over his eyes, still damp from the night air. “I told you to leave the bar, Briar. I almost didn’t make it in time.”
Is that… disappointment in his voice?
I don’t speak. I just stare at him, knife shaking against my stomach.
“Briar,” he says, stepping closer, eyes locked on mine. “Why is someone after you?”
“I don’t kn—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” His voice drops into something darker, more dangerous. He moves fast, grabbing my wrist and squeezing until I drop the knife with a clatter. “I saw your emails with Lucille. I heard you talking to her. So don’t lie to me.”
“You read my private stuff?” Tears spill down my cheeks. The violation burns worse than the fear.
“Briar,” he says, almost softly, “I put cameras in every corner of your house. In the bakery. In your car. You really think I would stop at emails?”
I shake my head, barely able to breathe.
“That guy has been following you for days,” he continues, voice low and lethal. “He was parked outside your building two nights ago. Someone sent him.”
I feel the floor tilt beneath me.
He steps back, jaw tight. “You can’t stay here.”
“I’ll go to Lucille’s…” I say quietly.
“That’s not going to happen.”
He reaches into his pocket and before I can run, his arm wraps around my waist and I scream. His other hand presses a cloth over my mouth and nose. It’s sweet and floral.
“It’s time, Briar,” he whispers against my ear, voice dark velvet and smoke as my knees buckle. “I’m taking you to Hellebore.”
“What—” I manage, the word slurring as darkness rushes in.
The last thing I feel is his strong arms catching me as the world fades to black.