Mathew’s free hand moved to my hair, fingers threading through the strands until he found the clip that held it up. Heunfastened it, then removed all the bobby pins one by one, each metal piece falling to the floor like tiny metal countdowns to my demise.
What in the creepy clown hell is he doing?
“You stripped yourself down for the world. So, let me help.” His breath was hot against my ear. “Let me show them who you really are.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and used the knife to start slicing through it. The blade whispered through each lock, chunks of strawberry-blonde falling to the floor like dying leaves.
This can’t be happening.
After everything Axel and I had been through, I thought we’d finally gotten our happily ever after. I thought the worst was behind us.
Thinking of Axel sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through me. When he found out what happened, when they found my body, Axel would never forgive himself. I could only hope Mathew would be in prison or dead because if he wasn’t, Axel would hunt Mathew to the ends of the earth and kill him.
That’s the depth of protectiveness he had for me. Axel would never let it go.
Ever.
But that wouldn’t change anything right now. As much as I thrashed around, I couldn’t escape these bindings. I couldn’t escape this chair, and I couldn’t escape this stage of horror. And even if someone somehow recognized where I was, it would be too late to save me by the time they got here.
I would never get to hold Axel again. Never get to kiss him and tell him I loved him. I wished I’d told him just one more time before I left the wedding.
“Do they still love you when you cry like this?” Mathew taunted, cutting through the last lock of hair. “Or do they finally see you the way I do now: pathetic and broken?”
Tears streamed down my face, but I swallowed back the sobs building in my chest.
I really hope Axel isn’t watching this.
But this live stream was my only connection to the outside world. Mathew might kill me, but I wouldn’t let him get away with it. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let him control the narrative.
I looked directly into one of the cameras, hoping it was still live.
“This is what happens when a man thinks he owns you. When you stop being his fantasy and become a woman with a voice.”
Mathew’s slap came fierce and hard, the crack echoing through the small room. “You don’t like it when I use your platform against you, do you?”
I spat blood onto the floor.
Mathew put the knife to my throat again, but I looked at the camera one more time.
“This is what obsessive control looks like. This is?—”
Pain exploded against my jaw. At first, I thought I’d been stabbed, especially because I was suddenly on the floor, the chair having toppled with me under the impact of Mathew’s fist. The full force hit my jaw so hard, I tasted copper and feared something was cracked.
But his attack had an unintended side effect: when I fell, my left leg’s tie had slipped off the chair leg. And with one fast kick, I got my right foot free as well.
Oh my God. My legs are free. I’m free of the chair.
My right shoulder screamed in pain from the landing, but with adrenaline flooding my system, I rolled up onto my knees.
Run.
Run, Dakota.
Get to the front door.
“Help!” I screamed, praying a neighbor would hear me through these thin apartment walls. “HELP ME!”
Another blow caught me in the ribs, sending me sprawling again. Blood dripped from my nose onto the floor, right near?—
