I pick up my phone, noticing that I’ve gotten a message. My phone isn’t on silent, but given that I was too busy threatening Paul, it’s no wonder I didn’t hear the sound. My finger slides over the screen, opening the text, and a small, satisfied smile forms on my face. It’s from agent Arnault.
“I’m in.”
Things are finally looking up for me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ilet Paul sit with his thoughts for a while, letting him digest the words I just uttered. I simply sit on one of the chairs, and take out the food Kaya prepared for me. It’s nothing fancy, just a couple of sandwiches. Just by looking at the way they’re wrapped and the contents of them, I know exactly who made them.
My heart swells with affection, and a singular bite is enough to prove what I already knew — Arlo made these. I close my eyes, the images of him making me a sandwich for the first time flashing behind the closed lids.
We’ve come so far since then.
I left him, and he didn’t try to bring me back.
If this had happened during the first week of me staying in his penthouse, he would’ve searched every nook and cranny of New York City, and he’d find a way to bring me back to himself. However, things are different now.
This isn’t just love. It’s more than that. It’s the deepest of connections, the utter and complete trust we have in each other that allows him to trust me enough to do this alone. Arlo has always been my savior, but this time, he knows that I have to save myself. He knows that, and he knows I’ll come back to him.He trusts me.He puts all the trust he has in my love for him, and that alone is the greatest gift he could’ve given me because no one else has ever trusted me like this. He knows me better than I know myself and it’s enough for him – he’s certain I’ll return to him.
I will go back to him. He is my sacred place, he is my home. The rest of our lives will be beautiful, chaotic, and all consuming. We’ll be together till the day we die and I have no doubt that the day we decide to leave this world, it will be together.
I finish the sandwich, drink the entirety of the water Kaya sent me. I’ll call her to bring me more if I need it. With a deep breath, I glance back at Paul. Physiological torture is my new favorite form of torture. When I announced I’d be torturing him, he expected it would happen immediately. Instead, I just sat down and ate a sandwich in silence, and haven’t so much as looked at him properly since. He’s sweating, glancing around, trying to keep himself from panicking.
The signs are small, but they’re there.
The way his forehead is sweating, the way he is swallowing and the way he constantly looks in my direction. It’s totally subconscious, but it’s doing what I need it to do. He’s scared, and he knows now that I have no intention of letting him go.
“I could always scream. Someone will come.”
I can’t help but cackle, shaking my head. “And then what?” I hop off the chair, taking out the items Kaya sent for torture. I display them all on the table, then bring the table closer to him, just so he can watch.
My gun is on the table, alongside four different types of blades. Small, thin, big, thick, a perfect knife for every use. But they all share the same feature; they’re all incredibly sharp. There’s a small, glass bottle with some sort of liquid. I have no idea what it is for, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Then, I lean back, watching while his eyes zero in on the display. “You’re still a wanted criminal, Paul. You’ll be sent to prison again.”
Slowly, he drags his eyes away from the table, looking directly into mine. “Even prison was better than this.”
“No,” I drawl out. “Prison was only better because Hudson was sent there to keep you safe from the other inmates. You’re a child rapist, molester and abuser. You surely can’t be that dense, can you? The things they’d do to you in prison are way beyond your comprehension. I’d know, because in case you forgot, I was once in prison, too.”
My mind drifts back to that time. Now, it seems like a lifetime ago.
There was an inmate that arrived. A woman in her thirties and it didn’t take long for the rumors to spread — rumors which were proven to be correct. She sexually abused her children, then allowed her husband to do the same. The only reason she was ever caught was because someone ended up hearing the children crying, and begging for help.
Her name was Emily Wright. She ended up being sent to solitary confinement for twenty-three hours a day, only getting a single hour out of her cell for a shower and a phone call. It was only for a couple of weeks before someone got to her. They completely obliterated her. She was found with bite marks all over her body, with various items shoved inside of her, they’d even gouged her eyes out.
It was a gruesome scene, and I have no doubt in my mind that Paul would get the same treatment, if not worse.
With a sigh, I glance around, trying to figure out where I should start. I tap my fingers against the wooden desk, and as soon as I spot an empty, old and dirty glass, an idea forms in my mind.
I walk over to the booth that’s at the far end of the bar, grabbing the glass and throwing it to the floor. It shatters, and I pick up the biggest piece of glass, holding it in my hand, before returning to stand in front of Paul.
“Now…” I glance all over him, a small smirk on my lips. “Should I start with your face?”
“You stupid bitch,” he grits out, and that brings out memories.
An idea forms in my brain quickly, and I can’t help the butterflies that erupt in my stomach. Oh, this will be one of the greatest evenings of my fucking life.
“You’re about to see how big of a bitch I have become, Paul. Oh, and don’t scream.Screaming will only make me go harder.”
