Chapter 29
The Prey
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, making the fear pound even harder in my chest.
My lips parted as I looked at him in utter disbelief and startling shock.
“This—”
His blade pressed against my neck harder, and I winced.
His eyes whirled in darkness, like a storm ready to strike me.
“You make any sound,” he warned in a low, menacing growl, “I have plenty of ways to shut you up.”
I swallowed as he pressed the blade deeper, and I winced at the sting. He was towering over me, his body looming like a dark, menacing shadow. His knees were pinning my legs down, and his free hand gripped my wrist, holding it painfully against the floor.
I looked around, hoping someone would walk in on us, praying for any sign of help.
But the lot was silent and empty, the only sound the ragged breaths escaping my lips.
The fact that he could see... for hell’s sake.
He could see. I recalled all the times I had embarrassed myself in front of him, how I pitied him for his supposed blindness.
Well, screw him.
Anger bubbled up inside me, mingling with the fear. I clenched my jaw, glaring at him through the tears that spilt down my cheeks.
Do not cry, Sera, I told myself fiercely. This bastard doesn’t deserve your tears or any of your emotions.
His grin widened as he saw the defiance in my eyes, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “There it is,” he murmured. “That fire. I like it. Let’s see how long it lasts.”
I thrashed against him, my body twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to free myself. “Let go of me, you bastard!” I screamed, my voice raw with fury and fear. But he only laughed, a dark, mocking sound that sent chills down my spine.
He was so much bigger, so much stronger.
It was laughable, the difference between us.
His muscles bulged under his shirt as he effortlessly flipped me onto my stomach, pinning me down with his weight.
My hands and knees scraped against the cement floor, the rough surface tearing at my skin.
I cried harder, the pain mixing with my helpless rage.
“Keep fighting,” he taunted, his voice a sinister whisper in my ear. “It’s more fun that way.”
I screamed and swore. But he didn’t care.
He was a predator, and I was his prey.
His grip tightened, and he pressed the blade harder against my throat, drawing more blood.
A dark chuckle rumbled from him, vibrating through me as he leaned in closer, the rough fabric of his balaclava brushing against my cheek. “You can keep struggling, Ptichka,” he murmured. “But we both know how this ends.”
I whimpered, a sound I hated myself for making, but it only seemed to excite him. His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back until my neck was exposed to him entirely. The sting shot down my spine, heat pooling low in my stomach despite the fear clawing at my throat.
“Look at you,” he purred, dragging the blade just enough to let a tiny bead of blood trickle down my skin. “So fucking pretty when you’re scared.”
I clenched my thighs together, a futile attempt to suppress the unbearable ache twisting inside me. My breathing hitched as his free hand skimmed lower, gripping my hip possessively.
“This is what happens when you disobey,” he mused, voice dark and taunting. “But maybe that’s what you wanted, hm? To be handled like this.”
My lips parted, but his grip on my hair tightened, cutting off the words before they could leave my mouth. His laughter was pure sin; his body pressing closer until there was no space left between us.
“Go on, fight me,” he dared, dragging his knife slowly across my skin, not enough to cut, just enough to remind me it was there. “I love it when they fight.”
The awareness hit me like a sledgehammer, and my struggles grew weaker, the fight draining out of me. Tears streamed down my face, but I refused to let him see me break.
“You’re a monster,” I spat with a trembling voice of fear and hatred.
He chuckled, and I felt him lean down, nuzzling his face into my neck and biting the skin in the process. The pain mixed with the unwanted intimacy made me shudder.
My anger flared again, hot and fierce. I gritted my teeth, refusing to give in completely.
He pulled his weight off me and then yanked me up with him, his touch wild and rough.
His hands roamed freely over my body, his fingers pressing into my skin with a cruel familiarity.
There was a wild gleam in his eyes, and his gaze was more piercing now that I knew he was not blind.
I swallowed hard, feeling the full weight of his predatory stare.
“Be a good little girl,” he warned. He looked as dishevelled as me, but unlike me, he enjoyed this chaos.
I tried to pull the same move I had earlier, raising my knee to strike him. But this time, he saw it coming from a mile away. He slammed me back onto the hood of the truck, his face contorted with anger.
“The first time was a success because I was busy fucking your mouth with my tongue,” he snarled, his grip tightening painfully. “Raise your knee again, and I’ll chop off your legs.”
His words sent a new wave of terror through me, but I refused to let him see my fear. Instead, I glared at him, my hatred burning in my eyes. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my face.
“You think you can defy me?” he whispered, his tone mocking. “You think you have any control here?”
I spat at him, my defiance unwavering. “You’re nothing but a sadistic bastard. You’ll never own me.”
His smile widened, and he wiped the spit from his face with a slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, Ptichka,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “You have no idea how much I enjoy playing with you.”
He pressed his body against mine, his hands roaming with brutally. His touch was invasive; each movement designed to remind me of his control. But even as he violated my body, I held onto my anger, my hatred. It was the only weapon I had left.
“You’ll never break me,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the fear.
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “We’ll see.”
His grin turned feral as he leaned in, his lips crashing against mine.
I shut my eyes. The kiss became violent.
His hands roughly grabbed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head with a force that made me whimper in pain.
His knee drove between my legs, preventing me from driving my knee into his worthless jewels again.
I hated him with every fibre of my being.
I kept my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But the demon of a man bit my lips hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste mixing with my emotions.
“Open up, Ptichka,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You don’t get to ignore me.”
I glared at him, hoping he could see defiance burning in my eyes.
His response was a dark, twisted laugh that echoed in the empty lot.
His face was inches from mine, and I could see every detail of his unhinged expression.
He was undeniably handsome, with sharp features and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.
His dark hair was tousled, giving him a rugged, almost dangerous charm.
But all he was. A superficially beautiful man and nothing more. He was as ugly underneath.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “So beautiful when you’re angry.”
“You’re playing a game with rules you don’t even know yet,” he murmured, his gaze tracing the panic on my skin. “Tell me, little bird—what does freedom taste like when I own the air in your lungs?”
My rage boiled over, and before I could think, I spit on his face. “You’re a sadistic bastard. You’ll never own me.”
The realization hit all at once. No, his smile didn’t change, but his eyes did. There was something wrong with them. They looked feral. That was the frightening part. The certainty behind it. Like hurting people wasn’t a choice. It was simply who he was.
He stopped. The spit slid down his cheek. He wiped it away, slow enough to make my stomach knot. He smiled. Like I’d done exactly what he’d hoped I would.
It should anger him; instead, he let out a groan. “Spit on me again.”
His grip on my fingers tightened, and amusement replaced all sense.
He seemed to like it.
“That’s it,” he growled against my lips. “Fall apart for me.”
I swallowed the sound. He drew back just enough to study me. As if I were another puzzle he’d already solved. My hands still shook. His smile only deepened.
I struggled against him. But his body pressed against mine, his knee keeping me pinned in place. His breath was hot against my skin, a constant reminder of his control.
“Do you feel that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. “Do you feel how powerless you are?”
Tears burned my eyes. “You can scare me all you want. That doesn’t mean you’ll ever own me.”
“I don’t need you to give me your soul, little bird,” he whispered, a sharp, broken laugh grazing her skin. “I’m perfectly content to play in the ashes of whatever you have left.”
He kissed me again. Harder this time. Like he meant to steal every breath I had left. Then he pulled away. Without a word, his fingers slipped to the knot of his tie. My breath caught as he untied it. Confusion flickered through me before dread swallowed it whole.
My lips parted, but fear had already stolen every word.
Before I could react, he had both of my wrists clasped together.
“What are you doing?” I thrashed, trying to free myself, but his grip was strong. I struggled against the restraint, my body writhing in desperation, but he only tightened the knot.
“Let me go!” I shouted and twisted my wrists, trying to slip out of the tie, but his hold was unyielding.
His face hovered close to mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. “Fight all you want,” he murmured, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “Like I said, it only makes this more enjoyable.”
I kicked and pushed, using every ounce of strength to resist, but he remained unmoved. His body pressed harder against mine, his knee digging into my thigh, keeping me immobilized. My breaths came in short, panicked gasps, my heart pounding in my chest.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear once more. “Feel that?” he whispered, his voice a sinister caress. “That’s called losing.”
Rage boiled inside me, fuelling my futile struggle. Fear wrapped around my heart, squeezing tighter with each second. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back, refusing to show my vulnerability.
I hated how small he made me feel. Fight. Run. My body listened to neither. His presence swallowed every thought before it could become a plan. I refused to let this be the end of me. I blinked the tears away before they could fall.
“You won’t win,” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
I wanted to spit in his face again.
One look into those unhinged eyes, and even my anger hesitated.
His smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. “Oh, Ptichka,” he murmured, his voice dripping with twisted affection. “I already have.”
The moment he moved, I ran. Hope lasted exactly two steps. Pain exploded across my scalp. I cried out as I was jerked backward, the world tilting with me.
He caught me as if I’d never had a chance. The ground disappeared beneath my feet. One moment, and I was slung over his shoulder. Blood rushed to my head.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the dizziness. Running had been a mistake. Stopping had never been an option.
My fists beat weakly against his back, my legs kicking in vain.
The world spun around me, and my sense of balance completely shattered.
I felt a wave of nausea rise, my breaths coming in short, panicked bursts.
The strength I had mustered to fight began to ebb away, replaced by a sickening sense of vulnerability.
Each step he took towards the elevator jostled me, making my head throb and my vision swim.
I tried to focus, to find some way to resist, but my body betrayed me, overwhelmed by everything.
Tears of frustration and helplessness streamed down my face, my earlier defiance crumbling in the face of his unrelenting control.
And I hated this man with every cell in my body.