I’ll weave my web around your heart, and that’s how I’ll get in.”
I throw the phone across the room, and it skids to a stop near the door. My entire body shakes, and I bite down on my hand to keep from screaming. I have to get out of here. I have to keep moving.
I crawl over to the phone, snatching it up, checking the screen.
Why did you throw me away? That’s not very nice, Little Spider. Didn’t your mother teach you how to be polite? You’ll have to learn better manners when you’re mine.
A sob rips through me, and I stagger to my feet, forcing myself to move, to leave this place. I push out the back door, emerging into another alley that smells like mould and rust.
I hear something behind me—a faint scuff of boots on concrete. I whirl around, but there’s nothing there. Just empty space.
My phone pings again, and I can’t help but look.
You’re so close to giving in. Just a little more, Little Spider. Let me catch you. Let me show you how good it feels to belong to me.
I break into a sprint, pushing through the pain in my legs, not knowing where I’m going—just away. Away from his voice, his words, his eyes that I can feel crawling over my skin.
But I know deep down that it’s useless.
Because he’s right.
I can’t run forever.
And when he finally catches me, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAMIEN
Iwatch her run.
It’s almost too easy—the way she bolts down the alley like a rabbit with a wolf on her tail. I lean against the edge of the warehouse, half-hidden by shadows, a cigarette dangling from my lips. The smoke curls around me, masking the scent of cold metal and wet concrete.
She’s beautiful like this—wild and panicked, her hair a tangled mess from the wind, eyes wide and terrified. I can see the exhaustion in every step, the way her legs almost give out when she turns the corner. She’s not used to running.
I flick the cigarette to the ground, grind it under my boot, and slip out of the shadows, moving at an unhurried pace. I’m in no rush. Let her think she’s escaping. Let her believe the city can swallow her up.
My phone buzzes. A text from my guy at the coffee shop.
She looked fucking terrified. You’re pushing her too hard.
I smirk, fingers tapping out a reply.
That’s the point.
I pocket the phone and keep walking, tracing her steps through the maze of warehouses. She’s predictable—always running toward the light, never the dark. She always chooses the safer path, even though safety is the last thing she will find.
I hum softly under my breath, a melody that wraps around me like a second skin.Incy wincy spider…
My pulse thrums, and I can almost feel her fear, taste it on the air. She fights to hide her fears and to appear strong.
But tonight, she’s unravelling.
I follow the trail she left behind—a dropped hair tie, the faint scrape of her boot against the concrete. She thinks she’s clever, ducking into that warehouse, but I know every inch of this place. I used to come here to think, to let the noise of the city fade.
When I slip inside, the air is thick with dust and rust, the faint echo of her footsteps bouncing off the metal walls. I stay in the shadows, eyes adjusting to the dim light. I spot her immediately—curled up behind a rusted machine, trying to make herself invisible.
I lean against a support beam, pull out my phone. The photo I take of her huddled there is almost too perfect—like prey caught in a trap. I send it, waiting for her reaction.
