Her soft, sudden voice causes me to freeze in place. She’s been here long enough to time when he comes back, what the next torture or punishment will be, and each movement he makes. She finally looks up and staresat me with her sad, tired eyes. I get up to go to her and wrap my arms around her but I’m yanked back by the chain that I keep forgetting holds me in place. We’re given little distance to move around and the sting from the metal cuff rubbing against my ankle reminds me that I’m a caged animal.
“Sam, he won’t harm you again, I promise. What else has he done to you?” I ask softly, hoping she’ll give me a little more to prepare for.
Monroe is quiet as she too is waiting to hear of his methods. Samantha takes a moment to think back to everything he’s done. I really don’t want to trigger her but right now, I need her to be brave and tell me.
“Depending on what ‘they’ tell him to do. Normally, tasing would come next, or locking you in a box with some sort of device that brings the temperature down and you almost freeze to death, but he stops it before it does. Death is too easy, it’ll be his last resort from my assumptions. I thought my death was coming but when he heard about your party, he became obsessed over you and left me alone,” she confirms.
After her reveal, we all stay quiet for a while. I take in all the new information she gives me and replay different tactics and scenarios in my head. Mentally, I need to be prepared. My father always said that pain is in your head and if you set up your mind to block it out, you’ll last longer. So, that’s what I do. I picture myself in each category and pull myself under where I feel nothing. As if I have someone else in control of my body who can handle it far better than I can.
“Were you ever going to tell Alaric who you really are?” Monroe breaks my concentration and I turn my head to look at her.
She genuinely wants to know if I would have told him. This time, her question is void of any venom but of sadness for her friend. She doesn’t want to see him suffer from all the secrets Ikeep. I wouldn’t blame him if he begins to hate me and turns on me. The thought of him doing that hurts deeper than I want to admit.
“Do you really know who I am?” I tilt my head. “It was never supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to love him the way that I do. I’m too selfish to let him go. Eventually, yes, I would have told him and I knew he would have to make a choice between me and his career. I would never ask him to choose me no matter how bad it would hurt. I tried to warn him before, but he didn’t give up on me.”
She ponders on that for a moment. A rush of emotions flash her face, trying so hard to be civil. I can see her protectiveness coming forward and winning the fight between peace and starting an argument.
“He’s crazy about you. I don’t like you, nor do I think you’re good for him. You have to let him go before it becomes too unbearable for him. He’s worked so hard to get to the place he’s at now. Not just work, but mentally. He was fucked up when he got out of the SEALs. This is the one thing that keeps him level-headed. Would you truly take that away from him?” Her words dig deeper than I thought they would. She’s right, but that doesn't mean I need to hear those words from her.
“Just when I thought I could tolerate you, within a minute you changed my mind. I know you’ve known him for years and think you can read him inside and out, but you want me out of the picture so he’ll lean into you for comfort. Stop pretending you actually give a shit about him. You’ve been adamant about your perception of me before you even met me. Will you still be saying the same when I get free while you’re still chained?” I turn away from her to face the wall.
If she said anything after that, I didn’t hear her. My mind instantly goes back to what she said. I’m not good for him. Our world clashes too much and will our love be strong enough orwill it crumble to the ground? The mere thought of letting him go makes my chest squeeze and I have to push it far down to avoid thinking about it right now.
My mind wanders to my cousin and best friends wondering if they figured out that my tracker is gone. Who they called for help or what city they blew up to find me. There’s no doubt Alaric has figured out that his partner is gone as well as me. I wonder if he has the whole damn city looking for us, if he’s working with my cousin or burning down every damn building until he finds me. I know for damn sure he’s in panic mode since The Jawbreaker has slipped through his grasp again. My mind clicks over to imagining his warm body wrapped around me shielding me from everything in sight. His breath against my neck and how safe I feel when I’m with him, his smoky amber scent filling my nose. My eyes begin to shut heavily as I drift back to my safe place before hell freezes over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ALARIC
“Doubt is a thief that often makes us fear to tread where we might have won.” - William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure
Forty-eight hours. That's how long it’s been since pure panic and anxiety have dug its claws deep with an unyielding hold. Sleep has been hard to come by causing my body to feel weak and drained. My whole world seems like it’s been turned upside down, triggering the haunting nightmares of my past. Obsessed is what I’ve become trying to bring her home. I’ve realized that my world simply doesn’t exist without her in it. The darkness seems to rise higher and higher each day that we find no leads to where they could be held.
My director wanted to take me off the case due to my relationships with the victims. He doesn’t know the details of how close Celeste and I are but he’s aware that there’s something there and the fact that my partner is with her. I refused to step down and made it clear that I would continue searching regardless if I’m on the case or not. I advised him that if he removes me, I will resign and find otherresources. He wasn’t thrilled with my threat but he obliged knowing damn well that he can’t afford to lose me.
Samantha. Celeste. Monroe. Three names of womenhehas taken. Steering off course, taking two more than he originally planned. Samantha has lived the longest of the victims but how much longer do they have until one of them shows up at Times Square? We haven’t heard a word from the assailant. No videos, no riddles, no parading of his good deeds. We circled back to the guy we were suspicious of the night of the event. After hours of watching the feed, we were finally able to get a glimpse of his face and run an identifier. It was, in fact, Oliver. Clean cut and undercover, just as we were. We should have pursued him when we had our suspicions. There are a thousand things we should have done to avoid this whole situation.
After leaving the station, I head back to the club to do another sweep as if we haven’t done it a thousand times. There has to be something that’s missing, something that we glanced over, not realizing that it could be another clue. Parking my car across the street, I get out looking both ways before I cross the busy street. The club has been shut down since the event and Celeste’s men had escorted the employees somewhere safe until we were able to resolve the case and catch the bastard. Melodie is the only one who still comes in the club during the day to make sure the books are handled, and no break-ins occur. She’s, of course, escorted in and has nonstop eyes on her.
They must have seen me approaching as one of the security guards opens the door before I’m able to reach for the handle. The lights are on fully and the area is empty of life except for those who are here. Looking over the space, the night replays from my memory. People crowd around laughing and cheering from the hands they won and the liquor they downed. Music echoes off the walls with hips swaying side toside. Her face was a foot away from mine, just out of my grasp. Celeste’s eyes skim me from head to toe with hunger in her eyes. The power that radiates from her is consuming and unrelenting. She’s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. My chest tightens as the images of her throughout the night flash clip after clip.
Clinking of glasses grabs my attention, reminding me there’s someone else here other than myself. Melodie gestures me over with the tilt over her chin, the amber liquid catching the light as she pours a finger's length into the glass. Taking a seat at the bar, she slides the crystal glass in my direction, catching it in one hand. I swirl it around, watching as it creates a funnel to the bottom of the glass.
“She’ll come home, she always does,” Melodie breaks the silence with her soft voice.
Looking up, I catch her staring at me with thoughtful eyes and a soft smile. The smile doesn’t meet her eyes, though. She’s worried just as much as I am. Taking a sip of my drink, the liquid burns down my throat and I welcome it. At least I can feel something other than the numbness that has consumed me.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask after a moment of silence.
“I’ve known her for many years. I can guarantee that she’s endured worse. She’s trained to be strong, demanding, and resilient. She plots and schemes, rarely sharing it with the rest of us but she’s always a step ahead. If her plans have been altered, she always figures out another way,” she tries to reassure me.
A thought emerges, making me realize that she knew of this plan this whole time. She’s used to Celeste’s reckless decisions and way of thinking. She’s not just an employee but part of the inner circle. How is she okay with Celeste risking her life without a bat of the eye?
“You knew,” I deadpan. “You knew of her plans to get captured but you told the police differently. Why?”
She takes a moment of hesitation as her eyes go wide in realization that I didn’t buy the story she gave. She doesn’t know if she can trust me and I don’t blame her. I wear a badge and she’s afraid she’ll get in trouble for withholding information.
“I’m aware of the plans she put into motion. I’m working with Antonio and Larson off the clock, putting my career on the chopping block for working with the Mafia to find the woman I love. I’m also withholding that information. So, why did you tell the police differently?” I lean forward as I bare myself to her to earn her trust.
