Page 108 of You Saw the Best In Me

It’s dark, and I can’t feel my hands. My eyes are groggy, almost like they’re refusing to open to shield me from seeing the predicament I’m in.

My hands are tied together, and the black plastic burns my skin. I must’ve been fighting in my sleep because my whole body is sore.

The last thing I remember was being in the front seat, and I realize now that I’m lying down in the back with a blanket covering me.

“Relax, Karrie. You’re fine. Just a few safety precautions until we get where we’re going,” Asher laughs, and I fight harder to get this blanket off me.

I’m so weak from whatever he gave me that I can barely move. I try lifting the blanket off like hell, but thinking of Old Man Tony strengthens me.

I don't know why, but it works. That short, bearded man channels my fear into power, and I use every bit of it to sit up.

“Ash, please. You don’t have to do this. Untie me,” I choke, my mouth dry from whatever he drugged me with.

“Your man called. We had a little chat. He said he won’t bother us again, so I guess he doesn’t love you after all,” he smirks at me in the rearview, but I know he’s lying.

That scrunch in his nose and how he slightly shakes his head while talking is a dead giveaway. Just like when we were together, his tell is the same.

Instead of calling him on it or rattling his cage, I play along.

Relief floods my body like a bad hurricane because Maverick has called and he’s not giving up on me. That thought alone is enough to give me strength, and I will continue to fight.

I refuse to submit to Asher, and whatever he demands of me. I’d rather die than let him have any pieces of me. My body is meant for Maverick and will always be that way.

“See? Nothing is holding us back. Take these restraints off, please?” I whine, but he doesn’t flinch.

We drive for a long time, my hands bound and my mind wandering.

I’m slowly letting the rage build inside, and I remember that Asher mentioned my mother before I passed out.

“Why did Katherine bail you out?” I ask, and I’m sick just thinking about her.

I’m genuinely curious why my mom would be on the side of my abuser and stalker. She’s sheltered me all these years, and to switch sides over one fight makes no sense.

“We’ve stayed in touch. It took me a long time to realize you’d changed your name, but your mom clued me in, and I watched you for a few months while you lived with that hot blonde,” he tells me, and my stomach clenches.

He’d watched me and Juliette, and my mom told him where to find me. This cannot be real. I recall her disapproval of me moving in with Juliette, and we didn’t talk for weeks.

She thought I was behaving irresponsibly. Apparently, when we fight, she sides with my fucking ex-boyfriend and acts like nothing is wrong with that.

“So why did it take you so long to show yourself?” I asked, referencing when I saw him on the security feed.

“Your roommate left, and I thought maybe it was time for you to know I was nearby so you didn’t feel lonely,” he sounds so fucking delusional, and my anger is boiling.

“I was never lonely. I was always terrified. How did you not understand I want nothing to do with you?” I spit, my emotions breaking free.

I wanted to stay calm and keep him talking, but I couldn’t help but be fucking angry. He stole my life and made me look over my shoulder for years.

I deserve to be mad, and I’m the one who’s being held hostage. It’s been like this for eight years, except this time, he physically has me.

“You were young and stupid, Karrie. I forgave you for running away,” he says, swerving around a minivan and knocking my head into the window.

“I was fucking seventeen! I should’ve never gotten involved with you. I was a child! You were a grown-ass man. In no world did we belong together,” I scream, letting the built-up rage escape.

“You’ve twisted our history in your head. You loved me, Karrie. More than anyone ever has,” he pleads his case, and I want to hear none of it.

“I regret you all the fucking time, Asher. If I could go back and change it all, I would. I wouldn’t have blushed when you walked by or dressed to get your attention. I would’ve kept going and let you destroy someone else’s life,” I say, hitting him where it hurts.

“You don’t mean that. You were so desperate for me, always wearing those tiny tank tops and showing off how sexy you were. You were a tease,” he smiles like he’s reliving it all.