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“What are you going t-to do?” I choke out.
His grin is vicious and cruel. “End his life, sweetheart. I’ll end his life so ours together can finally begin.”
I find my voice and let loose a deafening scream.
Two
Every bone in my body aches from sleeping for only God knows how long on a cold, concrete floor while handcuffed to a pipe and my bladder feels like it’s going to burst at any moment. When I’d come to, Dr. Skeller wrenched my other hand to the handcuffed one and zip-tied it to it. I started cursing up a storm and making vicious threats, all of which ended with him stuffing a washcloth into my mouth and slapping thick utility tape over it from cheek to cheek.
I’d been forced to listen to his heavy breathing and then his psychotic monologue as he explained how and why we got here.
He’s obsessed with Gemma.
Gemma’s stalker is Dr. Skeller.
We waltzed right through his front door and right into his poisonous trap.
Unbelievable.
I wanted to believe it was only a matter of time before our parents found us, but then Dr. Skeller—or Owen as he said to Gemma—revealed his detailed plan he’d executed to lead the search elsewhere.
If we want out of here, we have to do it ourselves.
But how?
I’m handcuffed and gagged, for fuck’s sake.
I attempt to shift my body to alleviate the ache in my lower back but only manage to send more pain shooting through my tressed up arms. A grunt of frustration whistles out of my nostrils.
Gemma’s sudden scream has me tensing. From my position on the floor, I can’t twist around to see her. Is he raping her? I yank on my bindings hard enough both metal and plastic cut into my flesh. Breaths heave in and out of my nose heavily as my eyes water.
I have to save her.
I can’t.
Footsteps make their way over to me and then Owen is towering above me. He’s no longer in his suit but now dons regular clothes. If I had my hands free, I’d tackle him, grip his neck, and squeeze the fucking life out of him.
If only.
He squats down in front of me and grins. “We both know you’re not good enough for my Gemma.” He pats the top of my head in a condescending way that makes my blood boil. “She’s quite literally a gem and you’re nothing but a waste of air.”
If I were free, I could take this old man. There’s nothing special about him. He’s not big and muscular like Dax or Dempsey. He’s just old and fucking crazy.
“I’m about to work on my garden,” Owen says jovially. “Your rotting corpse will make for perfect compost.”
He’s going to kill me.
Fuck.
Tears of frustration, rage, and utter fear burn hot down my cheeks. Owen touches my wet cheek before wiping the tear off on his jeans as though I’m diseased.
How will he kill me?
As though he can hear my thoughts, he smirks. “A gun will be too loud. I have neighbors nearby and I can’t risk it.”
Gemma shouts at Owen, filth flying out of her mouth, and then quickly turns on her charm to beg. She’s begging for me. For my life. Trading anything he wants from her to let me live. Sex, submission, her own life. My heart aches to be with her.
“I said hush, sweetheart,” Owen chides. His eyes meet mine. “It’s unfortunate, but I’ll need to gag her as well.”
