“Aye.”
“Good girl. That's my girl. I'm in a black Range Rover. You run to me, Bianca. You don't look back. You don't hesitate. You just fucking run when I tell you.”
“What if he catches me before?—”
“He won't.” The absolute certainty in his voice steadies me. “And if he tries, you use your knife. Do you hear me, Bianca? You scream bloody murder and use that fucking knife. Go for the soft spots. Don't hold back. Gut him if you have to.”
A door slams somewhere behind me, and my hand trembles around the phone.
Marcus's voice echoes off the walls, high-pitched and mocking. “Bianca, love. Come out. Don't run from me now. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's alright, love. We'll get you the help you need.”
The help I need? Is he already forming a story about my mental health? About how I'm fucked up and he needs to take care of me? My blood runs cold.
I whisper frantically into the phone. “He's in the alley.”
“I'm thirty seconds out. Get ready to fuckingrun.”
I hear footsteps scraping on the pavement, slow and deliberate.
“Bianca,” Marcus says, deceptively gentle. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
It's like a cat-and-mouse game, and he's enjoying every goddamn second.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, his silhouette appearing near the dumpster. His eyes are murderous, but his face is placid, as if he's wearing a mask. He tsks softly,shaking his head. “Very embarrassing behavior, darling.”
I press deeper into the shadows and grip the knife so hard my knuckles turn white.
“Run, Bianca,” Ashland says into my ear, urgent and commanding. “I’m here now.Run.”
“Come here, Bianca,” Marcus says in that cold, threatening tone I've come to know so well. “Don't make me come get you.”
“Stay away from me.” My voice cracks.
He laughs. “Oh, love. Scream all you want. No one's here to help you. They all think you're crazy.” He takes another step closer. “Just like the others. Thinks about it. I helped them through it. They thought I was their savior, right up until the end. Nobody trusts an unbalanced woman, darling. You have too much of a reputation for instability now.”
“The… the others?” I whisper.
“Otherwise very smart girls who lost the privilege of life,” he says, close enough now that I can see his face clearly in the dim light from the street. His mask has completely dropped. “Look at you, trembling. Pity you had to ruin everything, Bianca. I actually quite liked you.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me like I'm an insect.
“I'm here, lass,” Ashland growls in my ear. “Black Range Rover. Right side of the street. Fuckingrun.Now.”
I see it—headlights cutting through the darkness at the mouth of the alley.
I bolt. I hip-check Marcus, taking him by surprise, but I only have seconds before he rights himself.
I kick off my heels mid-stride, my bare feet scraping the rough pavement. Behind me, I hear Marcus's roar of rage.
“Bianca!” Marcus lunges, his hand catching my dress. The fabric tears, but I don't stop. I can't stop.
I run as fast as I can. I can feel him behind me… can hear his footfalls pounding closer.
The SUV’s door flies open.
Ashland’s wearing a mask, but I can see what’s in his eyes—pure, unfiltered murder.
“Get in the car, Bianca,” he snarls. “Now, before I kill him, and we do not want that right now.”
