“Even when you’re working?” I ask sweetly against his lips.
His soft blue eyes warm, and he pushes back brown strands of his hair that fall over his brow. “Especially when I’m working.”
I’ve always wondered why he fell for someone like me, someone who has a tragic past. He’s also clearly way out of my league.
He says he’s only successful because of his family wealth, but he’s just being modest. I know he works harder than anyone else in his IT firm. I don’t know the specifics of what he does there,but I’ve seen him a few times surveil footage and travel a lot for his boss. He’s gone for days at a time, coming home with bruises and cuts. Every time I ask how he gets so hurt, he just shrugs and says that he has to get into tight workspaces with machines. When he’s at the apartment, he’s working on his laptop into the late hours of the night.
My lips curve, and I lean up to kiss him again. Callum moans and chuckles over my lips. It’s my favorite thing that he does. His gravelly voice is impossible not to yearn for.
We cuddle up on the couch after a shower and turn on a movie. I nuzzle into his chest and try not to fall asleep as he gently runs his fingers through my hair.
“Don’t fall asleep, baby,” he whispers.
I don’t reply since I’ll likely be asleep in a few minutes. I think it’s fun to let him think I’m already dreaming, though. He continues to run his fingers through my hair, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
My chest warms, and I start to doze off when his phone vibrates a few minutes later. I’m barely conscious but I hear him answer.
“Yeah?” he whispers, sounding annoyed that his night is being interrupted. His hand stills on my head and his entire body tenses. A long silence stretches—so long that I think he just got bad news. “You’re sure?” he says in a cold, distant voice I’ve never heard him use before.
Who called him?
Callum’s gentle hand curls into a fist in my hair, not pulling anything, but I can feel him trembling. Is he angry?
“Understood. Consider it terminated,” he mutters before ending the call.
I slowly lean up and rub the drowsiness from my eyes. “Is everything okay?” My shoulders stiffen when I see his tortured expression. Tears stream down both of his cheeks. “Callum?”Concern is evident in my tone, and I lean forward, pressing my hand against his cheek.
He shuts his eyes and leans into my palm. “No, baby. Nothing will ever be okay again,” he chokes out.
Worry tears through my chest. Did someone die? I pull him closer and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “What happened?” I hold him tightly as he lets his shoulders shake with emotion.
He pulls away slowly and looks at me like it’s the last time he ever will. His eyes trace every dip and curve of my face.
Before I can ask him what’s wrong again, his hands are wrapping around my throat. At first it’s gentle, like he’s going to pull me in for a kiss or a hug, but I quickly realize that’s not what he’s doing. His grip gets tighter.
I cough, and my hands fly up to my throat. “Callum, that hurts.”
His jaw trembles, and he’s looking at me with more misery than a man should hold in their gaze. He shuts his eyes, and more tears spill out as he tightens the pressure around my throat.
Panic hits my nervous system, and I try to struggle out of his grip.
“Fuck!” he cries, shaking his head, but he doesn’t let up. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m so fucking sorry. Please forgive me. Please don’t fucking hate me.” His voice becomes distant, and before I hear anything else he says, I lose consciousness.
When I wake up, I’m in a heavily wooded area. It’s damp, cold, and everything is hazy. My mouth feels so dry. Why does everything hurt so bad? I try to remember what happened, but my head hurts so badly that I can’t think. My lips part, and I’m about to call out for Callum when I’m struck with a sharp pain in my throat.
It all comes back to me.
Adrenaline hits my veins and horror sets into my bones.
He’s trying to kill me.
I carefully lift my head and look around. I hear him digging somewhere nearby.Holy shit, this is really happening.I’m not tied up, which surprises me a bit. Did he think I was already dead? The idea of that sinks like a stone in my stomach.
Being betrayed like this by someone I love feels like my heart is literally being torn out of my chest.
Why would he do this to me? He just told me he loved me, didn’t he?Why would he do this… Tears brim in my eyes, and I try to see past them as I slowly get on my hands and knees. I crawl as quietly as I can, trying to breathe equally as silent.
The scent of moist dirt burns my nose. It used to be a smell I loved, from all my time gardening when I was young. There are few memories I have with my parents, but among them are pancakes at diners and gardening on hot summer nights.
