The Mercedes weaved through the city, the sun glinting off its polished surface. I stayed back, letting the city's pulse swallow me, another car lost in the urban ocean. My gaze remained glued to their taillights, a silent promise hanging in the air. This chase was a dance, a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and I was the relentless predator.
They turned onto the highway, their destination unknown. I gripped the wheel, the leather cool against my sweating palms. The open road stretched before us, a canvas for their escape and my pursuit. The miles blurred into a monotonous rhythm, the hum of the engine a lullaby to my growing obsession.
Hours passed, the cityscape giving way to rolling hills and open fields. They were heading away from the city, further into the unknown. An instinct, sharp as my blade, told me they were heading somewhere important. I adjusted my speed, matching their pace, my eyes scanning the landscape, searching for any telltale signs.
A secluded mansion, nestled amongst ancient oaks, came into view as we followed the signs of a winding road. The grounds were expansive, guarded by an imposing wrought-iron gate. This must be the destination, and suddenly, my chest tightened. The thought of this man and Fallon in that mansion fueled the jealous fire that burned within me. I pulled over just beyond the gate, hidden in the shadows of a thicket. Watching. Waiting.
I killed the engine, the sudden silence deafening. The air crackled with anticipation. The guard checked their IDs before finally raising the gate. They went in, and I watched the black car disappear down the long, winding drive. I ran a hand through my hair, then picked up my phone and sent a text:
E, got a location; they're at a mansion outside of town.
Then, I killed the phone and tossed it aside. I didn't want to get involved with E. I had my own game to play. I needed to see what she was doing. I needed to know what secrets this mansion held.
With a dark chuckle, I climbed out of my truck and began to walk towards the gates, my mind already calculating the best way to get inside. It was time to get closer to my prize. It was time to uncover the truth.
nine
a killer secret
Hitch
The moment we swept into the mansion's sprawling driveway, a sense of unease settled over me. It felt less like we were being followed, and more like Fallon was the target, with me simply along for the ride. I couldn't decipher if she sensed it too, but she played it cool, a dazzling smile gracing her face as we stepped out of the car and I instinctively reached for her hand.
She was a vision in a scarlet gown, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. It sculpted her curves, the swell of her hips and the gentle lift of her breasts, and made her sun-kissed skin shimmer. The low neckline, barely clinging to her shoulders, offered a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, and my gaze, inevitably, followed. She cleared her throat, a soft sound, andbrushed a cascade of platinum curls over her bare shoulder, her skin catching the light from the mansion's festive front yard.
"My eyes are up here, Hitch," she chided playfully, her small hand cupping my cheek, cold and delicate.
Fallon, though petite, possessed a quiet strength in all the ways that mattered. She was fiercely independent, a quality I deeply admired. I squeezed her hand as we began our trek towards the house, a charade of attendance for my boss's Christmas party. He wasn't a good man, I knew that with a certainty that settled in my bones, but I was tangled in his web, trapped like so many others who inhabited this gilded cage.
Fallon's heels clicked a staccato rhythm against the brick walkway, the entire property a riot of Christmas lights and decorations that amplified the holiday cheer. Her hand, nestled in mine, felt warm and safe, but I saw a flicker of nervous energy in the curve of her red lips, a vulnerability that tugged at my heart. I hadn’t wanted to drag her into this world, this mess, but I kept telling myself it would be harmless, especially if we didn’t stay long.
As we neared the front door, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled, a warning I tried to ignore, refusing to glance around and risk worrying Fallon, who had already endured enough hardship since we met.
We were practically kids when our parents—after two years of a secret affair—decided to marry. I was seventeen, she was thirteen, and Brady, her brother, was fifteen. It was a shock, but the intensity only escalated when we all moved in together. I became consumed by her, and somehow, miraculously, she fell for me too. But I’d ruined it, humiliating her at a party in front of everyone we knew. She never let me forget it. We'd gone years without speaking, only reconnecting a couple of years ago.
"Whose house is this?" she whispered as we approached the door, security guards scrutinizing IDs.
"Just someone I know through work. I told him I'd stop by," I said, a half-truth, but not an outright lie.
"This bodyguard gig must give you some serious connections, huh?" Her eyes, searching, seemed to pierce right through me.
"You could say that," I murmured, retrieving my ID from my wallet.
Once inside, we were greeted with trays of champagne. We each snatched a glass and downed the bubbly in one breathless gulp. I saw the panic growing in Fallon’s eyes, and she immediately reached for another glass from a passing server. I draped my arm around her back, resting my hand on her hip, drawing her close, wanting her to feel safe.
"What's wrong, crazy girl?" I whispered into her ear, weaving through the pulsing crowd, the music a physical force.
She leaned into me, her voice a low murmur against the music. "I don't like this, Hitch. It feels…wrong." Her hand tightened on my arm, the delicate pressure a tangible plea. "Let's go, please?"
I looked into her eyes, seeing the fear and the vulnerability that she tried so hard to hide. My gut twisted with guilt. I'd brought her here, into this swirling vortex of superficiality and hidden agendas. I'd put her at risk, and for what? To appease a man I despised, a man who, if I was right, was capable of unspeakable things.
"Soon," I promised, my voice raspy. "Just… let me say hello to the man of the hour. We'll leave after that. I promise."
She didn't look convinced, but she nodded, the briefest of movements, and leaned back against me, her body softening against mine. I guided her through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, their laughter and animated conversations a constant hum. We navigated the opulent rooms, each more lavish than the last, a dizzying display of wealth that felt suffocating. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, casting a shimmering glow on the ornate furnishings. The air was thickwith the scent of expensive perfume, freshly cut pine, and something else… something metallic, that I couldn't quite place.
Finally, we reached the heart of the party: a grand ballroom where a live band was playing a jazzy rendition of a Christmas carol. At the center of the room, surrounded by a cluster of sycophants, stood Mr. Foley, my boss, the reason we were here. He was a man of imposing stature, with a cruel gleam in his cold, grey eyes and a perpetual smirk that hinted at secrets he enjoyed keeping. He was impeccably dressed, his tuxedo tailored to perfection, and he radiated an aura of power that both intimidated and repulsed. He saw us, and his smile widened, a predator pleased with his prey. He gestured us over, his fingers beckoning.
The blood in my veins turned icy as he caught my eye. This was it. The moment I had been dreading. I could feel Fallon tense beside me, her breath catching in her throat. I squeezed her hand, a silent promise. We were in this together. And whatever was about to happen, I wouldn't let him hurt her.
