“If you would just let me explain…” he says, his voice that deep tone of the modulator that once caused shivers to wrack their way up my spine.
But no more.
Not after this.
I really thought he was done with this shit.
“Get fucked,” I spit and try to fight against his hold, but it’s no use. His free arm wraps his way around my waist, pinning me to him before he plucks me from the floor and manhandles me towards the bed while I struggle in his arms. He places me on the bed, a lot less gently this time before bringing the cuffs out once more.
All of the fight drains out of me as he secures my wrists to the headboard and I turn my head away from him, dismissing him.
We’re in a sparsely decorated bedroom. There’s all the furniture that you would expect—a bed, a dresser and nightstands, but it’s clear that it’s not lived in. This room either isn’t a master bedroom and is just a rarely used spare room, or the house isn’t lived in.
My guess is that this is the house that Noah’s family bought when he started his freshman year at Blackwater. All of our families have homes here in town for when they decide to come and visit, though I’m sure Noah’s parents only bought it to keep up appearances and nothing more. They barely see him when he goes home, and I’m sure that they’ve never bothered to come here.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” Noah murmurs, and I pointedly ignore him, staring straight ahead at the wall rather than looking at him.
Fuck him.
He’s the reason we’re here, in this mess of arelationshipand he can deal with consequences. I don’t owe him a single thing.
I’m not scared of him, I know there’s not a single part of him that would everactuallyharm me, but Iammad as hell, and I’m not going to cry and beg for him to let me go.
There’s a reason I’m here, after all.
And I guess it’s about time everything comes to light—I’m just going to make sure it’s Noah who breaks first.
I’m stubborn as hell so I won’t be the first to come clean.
No way.
It strikes me then, the realization that this is the first time he and I have been face to face with the mask between us since I found out his identity. Other than the time when he thought I was sleeping, this is the first time I’ve looked at the mask and known who was behind it and isn’t that just fucking ironic.
This is far from the worst thing he’s done to me—kidnapping me and handcuffing me to a bed—but it hurts to know that he still hasn’t given up this ruse. What would I have thought if I still didn’t know who he was? Would I be terrified? Would he have even done this without the catalyst that clearly sent him into a spiral?
I guess we’ll never know.
FORTY-FOUR
NOAH
Ipace in the hallway just outside of the room Gracie is in while I debate with myself.
This is all so fucked up.
Iam so fucked up.
I can admit to myself that kidnapping and handcuffing her to a bed isn’t one of the smartest things I’ve ever done, but I honestly had no idea what else I could do.
She’s going to find out, and then she’s going to leave me.
And I just couldn’t let that happen.
This is alltheirfault, whoever they are.
The fucker who has been watching us.
That’s the part that riles me up the most—howdarethey watch my Gracie; how dare they hack their way into her security system.
