9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
The Huntress
“What’s your name again?” Samuel, a very drunk—and very horny—trust fund baby asks me as we step into the elevator. “I keep missing it.”
“Emily,” I answer him with a wicked smile.
“Emily,” he repeats, nodding his head. “I can’t wait to get you alone and in private. It’s so sweet that you won’t get naked in public. I like that.” He arches his body over mine, his bloodshot eyes focused on my face. I run my fingers down his chest and then back up to his tie.
“I think we should loosen this.” I wrap my black nails around the material, gently tugging at it. The elevator is empty, and I’m surprised he’s not trying anything given how handsy he was on the walk here.
“You can do whatever you’d like. I like a woman who thinks she has control.” His hot, tangy breath is vile as his nose brushes my jaw. I swallow hard, hoping that if he notices, he’ll think it’s just my nerves getting the best of me.
The doors chime at the seventeenth floor, and he pushes off the wall. He wraps his large hand around my wrist and drags me behind him.
Eager. And rough.
I nearly trip as he picks up his pace—and I struggle to keep up. “Why are you running?" I try to laugh it off, but my stomach is doing somersaults now.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls the keycard out of his pocket and swipes it, opening the door to his suite. Sirens go off in my head. Something feels off about the way he’s jerking me around.
But something’s felt off all night.
I swallow hard, trying to put on the brakes as he slings me inside. He lets go then, and I lose my balance, thudding to the floor. A cry escapes my lips at the impact, and he bursts into laughter.
“I knew you’d be fun. You were so fucking modest, trying to come across like a little innocent bird. Are you an innocent bird, Emily? Or are you just another closet slut?” He rubs his hands together over me, and then drops to his knees.
Get in control, Cher.
“Can we have a drink first?”
He raises a brow. “Are you nervous all of the sudden?”
“Um... I just like to loosen up a little.”
He narrows his dark gaze. “Okay. Fine. Let’s drink.”
I nod, my gut churning nauseously. What is wrong with me tonight? My head is spinning, and as he stands to his feet, I find myself remaining on the odd, burgundy-colored carpet, trying to catch my breath as I feel the heaviness seep into my mind.
‘You’re losing your edge.’
I squeeze my lids shut, darkening out the scene in front of me.
‘Come on, little girl, get up and play along.’
My eyes flutter open to a drink in front of me, and Samuel is giving me a curious gaze. I take it from him and kick my heels off. He doesn’t stop me.
“You’re so nervous,” he chuckles as I stand shakily to my feet, without his help.
“I just need to freshen up,” I tell him, though I feel more like I might need to vomit. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure?” He gives me a strange look. “But hurry up.”
I nod, and trudge out of the sitting area to the bathroom off the entrance of the room. I push down on the handle and step inside, taking a deep breath. It reeks of more expensive cologne, and something about the scent takes me back to Jude.
Shutting the door, I spin around and brace against the counter, clamping my eyes closed again. I’m met with visions of Jude, looming over me. Suddenly, he’s all I can smell, see, and feel, the mental image coming to life around me. My heart pounds at the sight, a weird sense of longing sweeping through my body.
What the fuck?
Go away, Jude.
GO. AWAY.
I slam a fist down against the white countertop, and wince as pain sears through my hand. I set the glass down on the counter and pull out my vial of GHB, pouring the entirety of the contents into the glass. I just want Samuel to fucking die so I can feel better. Glaring down into the liquid, I force a deep breath as I slosh the drink around.
You know the drill. Go out, come onto him, and give him the drink.
My eyes lift to the mirror, and I’m shook by what I see. Dark circles appear painted beneath my hazy blue eyes. My Bloodmoon shade of lipstick is smeared, and in the harsh light of the bathroom, I look as crazy as I feel.
What does this guy even see in me?
‘Nothing. He sees nothing,’ the voice coos in my head.
Moisture pools against my bottom lid, and I blink it away. I’m cracking at the seams.
‘Then take your power back, you pitiful little girl.’
I cock my head far enough to the right to crack my neck and then do the same to the left. Fuck them all. Fuck. Them. All. And fuck Jude. Fuck the man who did this to me. I sweep up the glass from the counter and rip the bathroom door open.
“What were you doing in there?” Samuel stands in the threshold, his eyes narrowed. “It sounded like something fell.”
“Yeah, I’m just a little drunk,” I force out a giggle, and then brush past him. “But I’m feeling a lot better now.”
“Hmm,” he mumbles behind me. I feel his presence drawing near, and I spin, grabbing his tie before he can get me. A portion of the drink spills over onto my wrist, and I inwardly panic.
“Sit down,” I tell him, pushing him toward the couch.
He gives me a funny look, but does as I say, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. I straddle him and his hands slide down my waist to my ass, squeezing it.
“Here,” I tip the glass to his lips.
He turns his head. “No thanks. I made it for you.”
I lean down, my lips brushing his earlobe. “But you’re not as drunk as me.”
He chuckles darkly. “I don’t want to be.”
“Oh come on,” I whine, giving him my best pout. “Just do it for me. Please. ”
Samuel tips his head back, meeting my gaze. “I said no. I’ll make my own damn drink if I want something.” With that, he swats the drink from my hand, sending it crashing to the floor. I stare at the dark, now-wet spot on the carpet.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Ripping my eyes from it, I try to act surprised and slightly wounded. “Well, that was unnecessary, Samuel.”
“I made that drink for you. ”
My brows raise as he shoves me off of him so hard, I fall, once again, to the floor. “I’m s-s-sorry?” I try to find the right words. I’ve never had one refuse to take my drink. However, then it hits me.
I didn’t see him make it.
‘Stupid, stupid girl. He was going to drug you.’
It’s been tried before, but I usually insist on making my own after it happens. I was so caught up in my head tonight, I nearly let it slip. I nearly became the victim. Again.
“Get the fuck up,” he barks, his dress shoe colliding with the middle of my left thigh. “And get undressed.”
Bail. You need to bail now.
“Actually, I think I’m going to go,” I say, pushing myself up off the floor. I have a hard rule that when something goes wrong, I fucking leave. There’s no point in taking a risk that might end with the police. And it’s only ever happened one other time—when a guy tried to call all his friends to partake.
“No, you’re not going anywhere.” Samuel reaches down, his fingers threading through my hair. He yanks me upward, setting me on my knees. “You’re going to suck this dick. Now. ”
I shake my head. “No.”
He cackles. “You think you have a choice? No.” Fisting my hair with one hand, he undoes his pants, pulling himself out. “Open up, cunt.” The tip of him brushes my lips, and I fight the urge to vomit. However, it’s just the beginning of my body coming to life in his hands.
Anger simmers. My demons scream so loud in my ears, I can’t hear anything else but the chants of their deep voices to do something about this disgrace.
I glare up at Samuel. “Your dick reeks of disease.”
His face reddens. “You need to learn your place.” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he sends me backward as hard as he can. I careen like a ragdoll, my back slamming into the wall so hard I lose my breath. He laughs. “You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”
Samuel, the trust fund baby, comes at me then, grabbing my shirt by the hole over my cleavage. He rips it open, exposing my black lace bra. I kick at him, but it does nothing. I knew it wouldn’t. My heart thrums in my ears, panic looming overhead like a bolt of electricity, waiting to stun my body.
‘He’s just another asshole. Show him you wanna play along. That’s what he wants from you. Give him it.’
Blinking away the haze, I undo the front snap of my bra, giving him a view of my breasts. “Is that better, Samuel? Is this what you want?”
He looks at me with pure disgust.
And then punches me in the side of the face.
I gasp as copper fills my mouth and my hand flies up to the aching spot. What the fuck was that for? I eye him, bracing for what’s coming.
“I’m going to make you another drink, Emily. And this time, you’ll drink it. I don’t like women who speak. It’s a fucking nuisance. Just open your legs and shut up.”
“Fuck you,” I growl, my tone ice cold. I lunge for him, and he yelps as his body buckles. I take him down, climbing on top of him as his back slams against the carpet.
“ Bitch ,” he spats as I throw my own fist at his nose. Red blood seeps from his nostrils, but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing for my shoulders and slinging me sideways, knocking my head into the side of the couch.
My visions darkens for a moment, and it takes me a few beats to register him pulling at my jeans, tugging them down over my hips. The action triggers panic, and I realize as I reach to try and stop him, I’m still disoriented from the hit.
“You little fucking...” I don’t hear what else he says as he slams me over onto my back. I kick again, but my legs aren’t working right.
No, no, no... Am I shutting down?
That’s what I always did when he came for me. Everything stopped functioning. He got what he wanted without much effort after the first couple of times. The voice cackles in my head.
‘He’s going to get you, little girl.’
‘He’s going to crush you.’
My teeth begin to chatter as he forces my legs apart, his figure a terrifying shadow above me. I reach up to cover my ears as the voices wail louder than my own thoughts. The man above me freezes, and at first, I think he’s the one making the high-pitched scream.
But then I realize it’s me. It’s me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shouts, leaning away from me. “Stop doing that. Shut up!”
But I don’t. And suddenly, I can see clearer.
Samuel’s dark eyes are stark wide as I rise upward. I drop my hands from my head, the pulsing screams quieting.
“You’re fucking nuts, ” he says, repugnance etched in his features.
My eyes drop to his now-limp dick. I smile. And then kick as hard as I possibly can. Samuel barrels over, letting out a low groan. I rush across to the place on the floor where my purse lies. I rip it open and grab the taser. His arm slings around to grab me, but I’m faster.
I place the prongs right on the back of his neck and pull the trigger. He’s instantly stunned, slumping over. But I don’t stop there. I follow his downward trajectory, continuing to send shockwaves through his body.
And I don’t stop.
I don’t stop even when he starts to convulse and seize. I don’t stop when his eyes grow hazy. And I don’t stop even after I assume his heart has long since ceased to beat.
“ Fuck you, Samuel, ” I whisper as I give him one last shock. I lean forward, placing two fingers on the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse—just in case I’m wrong.
Nothing.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip and then inhale as deeply as I can. My ribs ache from the impact with the wall. My mouth is bleeding profusely. The skin on my knuckles is bruised and broken. My DNA is all over this room.
But I still won.
Reaching to my forehead, I wipe the sweat away. This one might be my downfall. I glance around the room. It’s clear a struggle happened. Should I clean up? I know I could call Henry, and he could make it all disappear... But then...
‘Then he’ll know who you really are.’
I run my hands over my face with frustration at the unsilenced voice, further smearing the blood oozing from my mouth. I slowly pick up my clothes, refastening my bra and sliding on my ripped top. I dance back into my tight jeans, annoyingly sticking to my sweaty legs. I’ve never wanted to leave a place so bad, and as I glance back to Samuel, a sense of nausea penetrates my gut. He looks murdered.
Maybe they’ll just assume he tried to assault someone?
My eyes roll at the notion. He’s still dead. They’ll want to know what happened. I reach down and sift through his pockets, grabbing his wallet and peering down at his driver’s license.
Samuel Robert Erickson.
“I wonder if anyone will miss you,” I say to him, taking a seat on the couch beside his limp body to catch my breath and once again wipe away the blood from my face. “They’ll probably all talk about how great of a guy you were, and how much you loved your mommy and daddy—but you really just loved their money.”
Sighing in response to myself, I pull a few hundred dollars out of the thousand in his wallet, just to cover my time. I toss the wallet off to the side of the floor.
And then I come up with an idea.
Reaching into my purse, I pull out the white powder. I rip open one small pouch, and then drop to my knees beside him. It’s a stretch, but it could at least put them on another trail for a while. I pry open the guy’s locked jaw and put a little bit of it into his mouth—and then dump the rest on the floor beside him.
‘This is a stupid idea. It’ll never work. It looks like an amateur’s work.’
”I am an amateur. I’ve only killed like nine men—and it didn’t go anything like this,” I answer the voice, shaking my head. “I’m not a professional. I’m not like my brother.”
‘He expected you to become a cute, little housewife.’
“No, he expected me to become a lawyer,” I argue. “He wanted me to be successful .” I blow a piece of hair out of my face and wipe fresh blood onto my sleeve.
‘Too bad you hit Ben with a paperweight.’
“Shut. Up,” I growl. “He deserved it.”
‘Did he?’
I shake my head, refusing to replay the way I lost my job. That was years ago. And Ben deserved it. Stupid fucking asshole wouldn’t stop flirting with me. That was before I knew how to get along with the voices, too—before they became my... friends?
No, they’re not my friends.
No one is my fucking friend.