Green Hayflashes across the console screen. Hunter must have left his phone in here, which makes sense given the zero signal. Something swirls in my stomach, the nausea making my head swim. They must have the MC’s number if they can’t get a hold of Hunter, right?
Fuck it.Biting my lip, I hit accept. “Eleanor Austin speaking. Sorry, Mr. King can’t come to his phone right now, but I can take a message.”
“Oh, Eleanor, how easy you just made my life.”
My vision blurs and Carlson lets out a tiny squeak as the truck swerves to the side. I slam on the brakes and squeeze the steering wheel, the truck skidding to a stop in the middle of the deserted road. Silence echoes inside the cab. My blood roars in my ears. It’s not real. It’s my mind feeding me auditory hallucinations.
“What a woman you’ve become,” Jonathan continues, his voice velvety soft. Now I know it’s not real. He doesn’t praise women unless they are kneeling at his feet and catering to his every whim. I am doing neither of those things. I will neverdo either of those things. “Cat got your tongue?” He sighs, and I’m right back in the compound, knowing that small action always precedes some form of punishment, and by extension, pain.
“Is the biker with you? Or did you ditch him at the camp?”
My hands fly to my ears, and I shake my head, my nails digging deep into my scalp. “No, no, no.”
He chuckles, the sound dark and full of promise. “That is one less thing to take care of. Can’t have you coming to see me withanother man, especially one that has touched what is mine.” His voice sharpens, his breath rattling through the phone as he fights for the control he’s so proud of. “I will kill him?—”
I bang against the steering wheel, causing Carlson to jump and cover his mouth with his hands, tears in his eyes. “You will not touch him.”
Jonathan chuckles. It’s full of icy rage but clear intent. “You got away, Eleanor. You were free. I stopped looking for you a long time ago, but you couldn’t just savor your freedom, could you?”
“You have to be stopped.”
“No, my sweet Eleanor. You know that’s not true. Deep down, you crave me. You miss my love. You desire my attention. You are lost, but I always come for those I love.”
A scream of frustration tears from my throat. “You wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the face with a shovel.”
“I take away your burdens, control your fear, give you a life free of decisions and responsibilities. What is that if not love?”
I release the rage and replace it with the icy exterior he cultivated within me. It’s the only way I survived, and while the warmth and comfort of the man I find solace and stars in is far superior, it’s all too easy to slip back. Panic and anger won’t get me anywhere. I glance at the computer clutched to Carlson’s chest. I need logic.
“Much has changed, Eleanor. The compound you left behind has been replaced with many others. We are a vast network?—”
There’s more than one compound? That makes far too much sense, and I don’t know how I missed it.
“I know all about your network, Jonathan.” My voice is steady. Cold. Devoid of everything Hunter has introduced into my world. “I know how you lure, torture, and imprison people. How you breed women like cattle to feed the sickest whims and desires of humanity.”
“Sick only by the standards set by a broken society.”
It’s like he believes his own words. It’s a terrifying thought; there’s nothing more powerful than conviction.
“Spare me the lecture of Jonathan our savior. You don’t control me. I am immune.”
“You always were, and that’s what made you my favorite. You were a challenge, something fascinating to tear apart so I could piece you back together as my perfect little doll.”
“How did that work out for you?” I snap, darkness coloring the edges of my vision.
“Oh, it’s going to work out fine. Men like me always land on our feet. We are blessed.”
Carlson shuffles in his seat, reminding me I’m not the only one present for Jonathan’s threats. We have an audience that is likely very confused. And scared. My lips thin as my gaze falls to the caller ID. How did I forget the most important aspect in this entire encounter? The origin of the call. He could have traced my visit, but potentially not who I was visiting. Steph might still be safe.
“Did you fancy a stay at a psych ward? I can recommend one more suited to a man with narcissistic personality disorder and a messiah complex.”
“Green Hay is very pretty, full of such lovely broken birds. Not really my thing. I prefer to break their wings myself. Those in here are the after. You, Eleanor, are the before, and I am going to take great pleasure in pulling out your feathers as I break your frail body and shatter your mind.” The euphoria in his voice is clear, and bile clogs my throat. “I shielded you from the worst of it growing up. I had a soft spot for you, you see, but the gloves came off when you started picking at my empire and messing with my customers.”
“You know the problem with pretty broken birds, Jonathan?”
“What?”
“They have nothing to lose.”
