Chapter 24 You’re Not Going Anywhere
You’re Not Going Anywhere
Eli's Search History: How to tell if your soulmate is scared of the real you
Eli
“This is your fault,” I tell Kevin’s hanging body, cradling Emily against my chest.
I should’ve locked the door behind me. I didn’t expect her to come looking. My mistake.
Kevin had stolen my focus. His words sent a blinding rage through me.
“Saw the woman you were with, Calder,” he’d wheezed earlier, grinning like a madman from his hooked position.
“She’d fetch a pretty penny. Two-hundred thousand for the lungs alone.
” He’d paused then, his eyes trailing over the doorway.
“Although, her heart would probably be too fatty to sell. Waste of space. Could let you keep that one—as a souvenir.”
I’d picked up the scalpel then, turning it so the light glinted off its surgical edge. I didn’t yell. I didn't need to.
“That’s your mistake, Kevin,” I’d hissed, stepping into his personal space.
“You think everyone is replaceable. You see inventory—a liver, a pair of corneas, a heart.” I let the blade hover just an inch from his cheek.
“I look at her and see the only reason I have to stay on this godforsaken earth. You deal in parts. I deal in masterpieces. And I don’t let anyone touch my art. ”
I press the button on the remote to unlock the door, shift Emily into one arm, and open it. My gaze flicks back to Kevin one last time, a sneer curling my lips, before I turn and head upstairs.
Karl and the others managed to take down several men involved in the organ operation, but Kevin was useful. He gave me information that’ll help bring the rest of them down. It’s a much larger network than we thought.
I keep climbing until we reach our bedroom. I lay my angel down gently on the bed, brushing damp strands of hair off her face. She looks uncomfortable lying there fully dressed, but she told me this morning not to undress her—so she’ll have to deal with it. As much as it pains me.
Honestly, I don’t understand why she reacted the way she did. It’s not like she didn’t already know I killed Tom. I thought she’d accepted who I am. Trusted me. Maybe even started to fall for me. But she looked at what I did to Kevin like it was some kind of atrocity. She’s a strange one.
I open the drawer beside the bed.
These were supposed to be used for something much more fun. But that will have to wait.
I fasten the handcuffs around her wrists—tight enough that she can’t slip free, but not enough to hurt. The other ends click onto the metal bedframe.
Emily stirs. I step back, watching as her eyes flutter open.
“Wha—” She cuts herself off, mouth parting in a silent scream when she realises her hands are restrained. She tugs at the cuffs, frantic.
Trust me, baby. You’re not going anywhere.
“Eli,” she whimpers. The sound cuts through me.
“Angel,” I murmur, stepping closer. She struggles, pressing herself against the headboard. That stops me in my tracks.
“I didn’t want to do this, Angel.”
Her lips tremble. “Do what?”
Guilt rises, unwelcome and unfamiliar. I swallow it down.
“Keep you locked up. But I don’t trust you not to run.”
“You tortured him,” she spits, fire flashing back into her eyes.
“To get information. Yes.”
Her mouth sets into a hard line. She shakes her head but says nothing. Defiance blazes in her gaze.
“This is just temporary,” I tell her.
Still nothing.
Okay then.
“You need to eat.”
Emily wrinkles her nose at the tray in my hands. Lasagne, garlic bread, salad with balsamic glaze. A meal any normal person would devour. Yet she’s staring at me like I’m a monster.
How can she not see I’m trying to take care of her?
“Eat,” I say firmly, shoving the tray toward her. I uncuff one wrist so she can use a fork.
She snatches it from me, and I immediately spring back. I don’t trust her not to stab me right now.
Eventually, she digs in, shovelling food into her perfect mouth. A little moan slips past her lips. I smile. Proof she enjoys it.
Once she pushes the tray away with more force than necessary, I take it and set it aside, then sit next to her.
I reach to stroke her silky skin. She flinches, jerking away.
I frown. “Why are you scared of me?”
She laughs—a hollow, brittle sound. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I don’t understand.”
She studies me for a moment, then sits up slightly, crossing her legs beneath her. “Okay. Why don’t you explain the situation from your eyes?”
I twitch a smile. “We’re having a therapy session now?”
“Yes.”
Alright. I’ll bite.
“Okay. You already know I killed Thomas for touching you. You’d gotten past that, since you relaxed earlier. You didn’t run when I left you on the bike—so clearly you weren’t scared of me then.”
Emily stays quiet, but I can see her listening, processing.
“So then why would killing Kevin—someone involved in illegal organ stealing—upset you so much?”
Emily
Eli scrunches his face, concentrating.
“Unless… it’s not that I was killing Kevin. Maybe it was seeing it?”
I can’t help the small laugh that slips out. “It was the torture.”
“Well, I tortured Tom too,” he shrugs, like my argument doesn’t matter.
Which… I hate to admit… actually makes sense. Somehow, he’s put together a logical argument.
I swallow, trying to fight the creeping dread that I’m starting to see his point. That scares me more than anything.
This isn’t the first time I’ve stumbled upon something like this.
The bloodbath I walked into at Carinas father estate still haunts me.
I’d frozen, just as I did now. But then…
I’d spent so long listening to her story over the years.
Hearing about the awful things she went through because of him.
I understood why she did it, even if I didn’t condone it myself.
Eli reaches for me; I fight the urge to flinch again. His finger brushes over my cheek lovingly.
“You’re seeing my point, aren’t you?”
I nod—because, well yes, I am. But also, because I told myself I was going to pretend to fall for him so that he would let me go. While I might have gotten caught up in his charm and relaxed too far, my objective remains the same. Escape. Freedom.
So, despite the fear still lingering inside—despite the image of Kevin dangling from the ceiling that will forever be burned into my brain—I smile.
“You’re right. Maybe I overreacted.”
Eli, of course, believes my words. Why wouldn’t he? He’s deranged. He doesn’t understand normal human emotions.
His hand falls back to the bed beside us.
He grins at me.
“I’ll be back,” he tells me, climbing off the bed and picking up the tray.
“Can you uncuff me fully?” I ask.
He hesitates.
“Please?” I inflict a whimper into my tone. “My wrist hurts.”
Eli sighs, then unlocks the cuff for me. He rubs his thumb over my slightly reddened skin.
Then he’s gone.
I release a long breath of relief.
But then the distinct sound of a lock clicking sucks the air back into me.
It’s Wednesday. I have until Sunday to get him to trust me enough to let me out the house on my own.
Next time an opportunity to escape presents itself… I won’t hesitate to take it.