Page 33 of Depraved

The awful truth settles around my shoulders like a leaden blanket. “Has anything you’ve told me been true?”

“Yes,” he rasps. “You know me, Karolina. Everything I’ve told you about myself has been true.”

I rake a hand through my hair. I can’t allow myself to believe him again.

I have to get the fuck away from him. This man is more dangerous than the stranger in the café, more insidious than the Russian who was stalking me.

Because he’s worked his way into my heart. Now, his betrayal is rending it asunder from the inside.

He gets to his feet, and I take a step back. “Stay away from me.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he begs.

“Of course I’m afraid of you! What part of drugging and isolating me aren’t you understanding? You want to track me like I’m some wayward pet. That’s terrifying, Rand.”

I take another step back, but I keep my eyes locked on the threat. “I’m leaving.”

His muscles flex. “I can’t let you do that.”

My fists curl at my sides. I haven’t survived this long to be victimized by the man I was falling for—falling right into this trap he set for me.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me,” I warn. “If you care about me at all, you’ll let me go.”

He grimaces. “I care about you more deeply than you could imagine. That’s exactly why I can’t allow you to leave. You’ll be at risk. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re all that matters to me. Everything I’ve done has been for you. I love you, Karolina.”

“Don’t say that!” I shriek. I’m the one begging now.

My heart can’t bear it.

His obsession is horrifying.

I think about how I welcomed him into my body, and my stomach churns. I fucked this madman. I trusted him with my virginity.

His features harden with determination, and he prowls towards me.

Without a second thought, I grab a gilded clock from the nightstand and swing it hard at his head.

The crack of the impact with his skull makes my blood go cold.

It’s the same sound I heard when I slammed the horseshoe into Carter’s head—on the night I committed my first murder.

Rand drops to the floor. Blood pours from his brow, soaking into the crimson rug.

He’s not moving.

The clock drops from my numb fingers, and I jolt when it shatters on the hardwoods.

I only allow myself a few seconds to check that his pulse is steady, and he’s still breathing.

He’s alive. I didn’t kill the man who’s captured my heart.

I don’t think I could survive that agony again. Not after what I did to Brandon.

I can’t linger. This might be my only chance to escape.

I quickly get dressed and shove my feet into my sneakers.

Spinning on my heel, I dart out of the bedroom. The house is enormous, and my feet pound down long corridors as I frantically hunt for an exit. The wood paneled walls flash by me, their dark hue making the vast space seem to close in on me like an elaborate trap.