You have misjudged my resolve, and that shall be your undoing.
After two days, six bus journeys, and a perilous few hours in a shady station waiting room, I give in to the need to stop for a night to rest. One night, then I will continue to put distance between myself and New York. That’s how I end up in a motel on the outskirts of Lexington. I eyeball the cameras secured everywhere you look. Perhaps Gideon will track me here eventually, but by the time he views the footage, I will be long gone.
I push open the sticky smeared glass door and stride up to the chipped wood reception desk. A girl with greasy brown hair slapped back into a ponytail glares at me, but offers no greeting. Customer service is clearly not a priority here.
“One room, for one night please,” I say as I drag some cash from my back pocket. I’m not stupid enough to take it from my bag, as it would alert them to the fact I have enough on me to warrant a mugging.
She quirks a brow. “I need identification and a bank card.”
For a place like this? Seriously? I pull some extra bills out of my pocket and slap them on the counter. “ID and bank card.”
Her hand snatches the money, and she pulls it under the counter, exchanging it for a single key with a fob and the number thirteen on it. “Thanks,” I mutter, snatching the key and hurrying to the matching door. I have to jiggle the key a little before the flimsy door gives way. The door closes behind me, and I lean my back against it as I drop the duffle to the floor and close my eyes. My limbs jerk, but I can’t fall asleep yet. Not until I’ve made sure everything is as secure as can be in a place like this.
The room looks like a set from a 1970s horror movie, complete with orange and brown bedding and an avocado bathroom suite. I secure the small chain on the door. It’s not enough to keep someone out, but it will give me a warning. The window has tiny latches on it that will pop off with a little force, so there is nothing I can do there. I stand in front of the mirror and peel off my sweater to reveal the waist trainer. Time to get this fucking thing off so I can breathe. I turn and look over my shoulder as I try to negotiate the laces. Wait—what the actual fuck? There are two thick straps buckled into place and from each dangles a gold-colored padlock. My hand slaps over my mouth, and I scream into my palm. When did he do this? I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s that sensation when you try on something that’s too tight, and you panic in the changing room, thinking it will never come off, that you will be stuck this way for eternity. There’s no point in crying, that won’t result in it miraculously falling away from me.
Focus, Honor. Do something constructive like take a damn shower. You stink.I switch on the water, which gives a pathetic spurt before dribbling lukewarm water. I strip the rest of my clothes off and use the tiny bar of soap to wash my hair and body. I have no hair brush, so I do my best to comb the tangledmess with my fingers before giving up and wrapping it into a tight bun.
After dressing in a clean pair of leggings and a baggy sweater, I dig around in the duffle bag to take stock of what Anthony packed for me. Money, clothing, a small first aid kit—nothing that will cure the pain between my legs. A pocket knife. That could work. I rip the sweater off and try to twist my arms to get the knife under the straps to release them, but they are too tight. My shoulders sag as I tip my head back, tears wobbling on my lashes.
I got this. It’s just another hurdle. I jerk my head as I try to digest my own pep talk and drag the sweater back on. I twitch the yellowed net curtain at the window to see who is lurking out in the dark. The vending machines are on the other side of the parking lot near the reception area. I need painkillers, which means I need food. I’ll be a few minutes at most. My hands shake as I grab some money and the key. I drag in a steadying breath, open the door, and rush over the parking lot, covering the distance in less than a minute. I keep my gaze angled to the ground and away from the cameras as I select as much food and drink as I can carry in one go. Arms laden with goodies, I race back and dump them on the bed before sliding the chain back into place. Next, I switch on the TV and select a national news channel. Let’s see the damage Gideon is causing. Does he have the nation’s finest searching for me? How recognizable am I going to be?
I tuck into the chocolate bar and guzzle a full sugar soda before popping a couple of the pain meds. Nothing. There’s not one mention of my disappearance on the news.What game are you playing Gideon?
The medication teams up with my exhaustion, and I lean back on the bed, lowering the volume of the TV. I need an hour or two of sleep, before I run again. I tuck the pen knife undermy pillow and curl my hand around the cool hilt as my eyes flutter closed, my exhausted mind slips into darkness.
“Wakey,wakey, Honor. You’ve been a disobedient wife.”
My body stiffens as my eyes try to open, but there’s pressure against them. My jaw aches as I try to scream, but there’s no give.
“Shush,” Gideon whispers. “I couldn’t have you screaming for help while we wait for Mike to clear out the motel.” My hands fly up to my face. “Don’t panic, baby, it’s just the hood. You remember it, right? It’s been a while since I had to use it. You can breathe—your nose is free.”
My fingers skim the buckles across my eyes and under my chin. It’s a nightmare; he can’t have found me this quickly. It’s not possible. My brain tries to close down and drag me back to the time when Gideon decided he’d caught me admiring another man. Following that was a month of pure hell. He’d deprived me of sight for an entire month. When I needed to shower, he’d remove the hood in the dark, wash my hair, before replacing it and guiding me to the bed. The entire time he made me wear earbuds that canceled out everything but his voice, which he fed to me twenty-four-seven. When I tried to disconnect, he’d turn up the volume. I was reduced to an hour of sleep at a time, a torture technique used in interrogation. I remember once reading about a study of sleep deprivation that had to be abandoned only days in because of the severe psychological effects.
A sob catches in my throat. I can’t feel those earbuds now, but I might be wrong as all I can hear is the roaring of my pulse as panic chases away any lingering sleep.
“You changed your hair, but we can fix it. Your little temper tantrumwill bring you nothing but pain. You do, however, still have the trainer on, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me,” he utters as his hand trails down my chest. He cups me between my legs, making me groan. “I’m assuming you are still intact, Honor, because God help you if you gave someone what is rightfully mine.”
“Sir, we are clearing out the last few occupants and should be on our way in the next fifteen. I paid off the owner and have retrieved the surveillance tapes.”
It’s Mike. How can he stand there and watch Gideon do this? Not only watch, but help.
A door clicks closed. “He’s mad at you,” Gideon says. “You made him look incompetent. He would have me do worse than what’s coming your way, Honor. Be grateful I still want your body intact. He would carve you to pieces and feed you to the wolves. Mike, I’ve realized, has a temper, so now he’s your personal bodyguard. Not that you’ll be leaving the house for some time.”
This can’t be happening. I’d rather die. Going back is not an option.
My hand curls under the pillow, and I wrap my finger around the hilt. Before I second guess my actions, I whip out the knife and blindly plunge it where I think he’s lying. A shocked groan leaves his lips. My hand releases the knife, and I scoot backward. I drop off the end of the bed and smack the back of my head against the dresser.Fuck.My hands frantically pull at the buckles of the hood and the zip at the back. I tear it off and suck in a long breath before pulling myself to my feet. Gideon’s eyes are wide as he stares at the knife protruding from his chest as crimson blooms on his white dress shirt. Only Gideon would go hunting in designer clothing.
A small smile pulls at his lips as I snatch my bag from thefloor. He tries to move but more blood spills from the wound, making him lie back down.
“You better run, Honor, because when I catch you, death will be a mercy I will never grant you.” I glance at the knife. If I was smart, I’d kill him now. He grins like he can hear my thoughts. “Try it.”
He’s not as injured as I think. No way I’m going near him. I shake my head as I drag my boots on. “No, Gideon, you get to live with the fact I could have loved you like no other—until the ends of the earth. You had my devotion and twisted it into something ugly. Now you get to live with the memory of me shadowing your dreams. This will be the last time you see me. You have forgotten that when we met, I was not the weak woman you have tried to mold me into.”
“You are exactly who I desire you to be.”
I knot my laces and stand tall. “No, I’m not. I never was. Let me go.”
“Never,” he snarls.
