Max was here.
Rightbehind me.
The deep sound of his voice sent shivers down my skin. Everything sounded smooth on his tongue. It always had.
We were merely a foot apart, the space between us threatening to consume me entirely. I wanted it to. I couldn’t handle not knowing what would happen to me.
The thought of becoming another one of his victims flicked briefly across my mind, yet even the threat wasn’t enough to coax a sliver of my courage. I didn’t think I had anything of the sort. In the grand scheme of things, what difference did it make? I was being thrown to the wolves regardless.
Turn around.
My body refused to obey. I was scared to see what lay behind his eyes.
His hand brushed against the small of my back. It felt like a branding iron, searing a message deep into my skin.
“Rose?” Sean’s voice was now booming, but somehow, Max’s was much louder.
I swallowed. “I ... I have to go.”
I hung up.
Before I could muster the strength to turn, he’d moved in front of me, making me look up. Panic clawed at my throat, constricting my airways. His eyes, they burned into mine, holding me captive. I knew they wouldn’t be as kind as they once were. Something far worse had replaced his kindness. He was now demanding.
His hair was longer in the back, tamed by a black bandana. He had a rough look to him, and he pulled it off well. He was handsome, but in a dangerous way. He looked exhausted. I hada feeling I knew what had exhausted him. It was me, along with the lies I’d told.
My heart felt as if there were a fire beneath it. Everything burned, and I couldn’t do anything to stop the pain.
He seemed bigger somehow ... stronger, and that wasn’t a good thing. He’d terrified me enough before. His hands didn’t help matters—they were painted red. Or was that mud? No, it had to be blood.Whose blood?My breath hitched once more. What had he done?
He took a single careful step closer, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet. Instinctively, I took one back.
The pinch in my stomach ... some called it butterflies, believe it or not, but I’d call it moths, and I didn’t want it.
I. Couldn’t.Breathe.
“Max.Please,” I choked out, my voice raw.
My hands rose, palms open in a desperate attempt to create a barrier. My breath was stuck in my throat.
Then he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing the unspoken question that trembled on my tongue. Gentle shushes escaped his lips as he shook his head slowly. My back pressed harder against the wall. He was close—impossibly close. I could feel his breath.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “Not yet.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” I managed to force the words past the lump of terror lodged in my throat. My voice came out a broken whisper. I braced for his answer, the silence screaming louder than words. He seemed shocked I’d even think something like that.
Who could blame me? I’d heard the whispers and the rumors about what he was capable of.
Monstrous things. All of them.
“No.”
Then what was he going to do to me?
“What do you want?” I challenged.
I was about to have a panic attack. I could feel it brewing in my chest.
Max looked down, disappointment written across his face. He was upset with me—furious, even—but beneath his anger, there was a hint of sadness hidden in the divot of his brow and a subtle wrinkle in the corners of his eyes that betrayed more than his anger ever could.
