by Stella Hart
Nate smiled and reached into his jacket pocket. “You gave it to me to look after, remember?” he said. “Your phone as well.”
God, he thought of everything.
He handed my things to me with a smile, and I took my driver’s license out of my little black purse, hoping my hands weren’t visibly trembling.
“Here you go,” I said, showing it to the officers.
“Thank you,” one of them said, peering at the photo. He looked back up at me. “Can you confirm to us that you’re staying here of your own accord, Ms. Livingston?”
“Oh, for god’s sake! Of course she is. She’s my son’s girlfriend,” Annalise snapped, throwing her perfectly-manicured hands up in the air. “Do you think we’re holding her hostage or something?”
The officer who’d asked the question reddened slightly. He was probably worried that the Lockwoods would use their influence to get him fired. “I apologize for the blunt nature of the questions, Ms. Lockwood, but we have to ask. It’s our job.”
She bristled. “I understand that. I just find it so preposterous.” She turned to me and dipped her chin in a nod. “Tell them the truth, darling.”
“I’m here of my own accord,” I said, feigning a look of distinct confusion. “I have no idea why anyone would think otherwise.”
“Okay. Would you be able to run us through the last couple of weeks?” one of the officers said. “Your acquaintance mentioned some behavior that they thought was quite odd for you. They said you’ve stopped attending your classes, and apparently you don’t answer your phone anymore.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “No shit. She’s been bullied out of Blackthorne because some asshole decided to target her with a fake sex tape,” he said. “Of course she’s stopped going to class. She can barely stand to—”
“Excuse me, sir.” The officer held up a hand. “We need to hear it from Ms. Livingston.”
Everyone looked at me expectantly.
I took a deep breath. “Nate’s right,” I said in a small voice, cheeks flushing hot. “A few weeks ago, someone used a porn movie to make a deepfake sex tape with my face, and they sent it to everyone at Blackthorne. You can ask the Dean about it.”
“Okay.” The officer’s brows furrowed as he made a note on a small pad. “Go on.”
“It’s been a nightmare since then. A ton of horrible rumors have gone around about me, and everyone stares at me wherever I go.” I looked down and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly, it’s really affected me. I felt like I was going crazy over the last few weeks because of it. Then those horrible murders happened, and that was the final straw. I didn’t feel safe at Blackthorne anymore, and I didn’t want to go to my classes or see anyone. I just wanted to hide for a while. So I holed myself up in my dorm and told everyone I needed some space.” I paused again and gave Nate a tight smile. “Then my boyfriend suggested I come and stay here. That way I don’t have to be on campus anymore.”
“Why didn’t you return to your apartment in the city if you wanted to leave Blackthorne?”
“My sister lives there as well, and I don’t want to explain it all to her, because it means I’ll have to tell her about the fake sex tape,” I said, nervously twisting my fingers together. “It’s just too embarrassing. I keep imagining her seeing it and never being able to look at me the same way again, even though it’s not really me in the footage.”
“I understand.” The officer tilted his head slightly to one side. “Do you have any idea who made the tape?”
“No. I guess someone at Blackthorne just really hates me for some reason.”
“I see.” His eyes flickered between me and Nate, and his brows furrowed. “It’s strange how such serious problems seem to follow the two of you around that campus, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Annalise asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“I’m not making any accusations, Ms. Lockwood,” the officer replied, lifting a palm. “I’m just noting how unfortunate it is. First, Ms. Livingston was the victim of a serious cybercrime, and then, just a few weeks later, your son was the victim of a vicious assault. It almost seems as if someone is targeting the two of them.”
Annalise’s mouth fell open. “What? What assault?”
Nate waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal.”
The officer raised his brows. “Well, I’d hardly call it a small deal. You were stabbed, and you had to undergo emergency surgery.”
Annalise’s eyes bulged. “Stabbed?” she said. “Nate, what on earth are they talking about?”
“It’s really not as bad as it sounds,” he replied. “I was mugged on campus yesterday, and the guy nicked me with a knife, but I’m fine. I just needed a few stitches and pain meds.”
Annalise’s hand flew to her mouth. Her skin had turned ashen. “Oh, god. Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like that?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. Like I said, I’m going to be fine.”
She shook her head and muttered something under her breath, brows drawn into a disappointed frown.
Nate clenched his jaw and turned back to the officers. “Look, if I’m being totally honest, that incident is actually part of the reason why I asked Alexis to come and stay here. I don’t think that campus is safe anymore, and I’d never forgive myself if something like that happened to her.”
“That’s understandable, Mr. Lockwood.” The officer muttered something to his colleague, and then he straightened his shoulders. “I think we can let you go now. Everything seems to be fine here.”
“Thank you, officers,” Annalise said with a tight smile. “Please tell Alexis’s friends that she’s perfectly safe here, and she’s more than welcome to stay as long as she wants. And, of course, they can visit whenever they like.”
“I’ll pass the message on, Ms. Lockwood. Thanks for your time.”
The officers shook her hand before looking back at me. My heart fluttered in my chest like the wings of a trapped bird. This was my chance.
“Thanks for coming to check on me,” I said with a warm smile. As I spoke, I surreptitiously slipped my hand into my coat pocket and grabbed the folded bit of toilet paper. Then I began to extend my hand so I could pretend to shake one of the officer’s hands while slipping them the note.
Before I could raise my arm all the way, Nate grabbed my hand and squeezed it while flashing a warm, adoring smile in my direction. To everyone else in the room, it looked like a loving gesture, but the truth was much darker. He’d spotted my note.
“Yes, thanks for checking up on us,” he said, turning his attention back to the police. “Sorry if I seemed rude earlier. I’m just very protective of Alexis because of everything she’s gone through over the last few weeks.”
That’s understandable,” the officer on the right said, dipping his head in a slight nod. “Anyway, we’ll get out of your hair now.”
“I’ll see you out,” Annalise said, ushering them out of the room.
My heart sank, and my knees went weak. I didn’t dare to meet Nate’s eyes once we were alone, but I could still see the cold fury flashing in the blue depths.
Painstakingly slowly, he unfolded my note and scanned it.
Then, without a word, he ripped it to shreds.
22
Alexis
I sat on the bunk with my back against the concrete wall behind it, stomach churning. There wasn’t a clock on the opposite wall, but I pretended there was so I could watch the seconds tick by, one by one, until something terrible happened.
Nate hadn’t yet punished me for what I did the other night when the police showed up at the estate. In fact, he hadn’t even said a word. He just waited for his mother and Colette to be out of sight, and then he dragged me back down to the bunker and pushed me inside before slamming the hatch shut.
Since then, he’d shown up three times—once to bring me water and twice to bring me meals. The meals were homecooked and delicious, so I was sure they were from Colette. A
t first I was surprised that he brought them to me instead of letting me rot in the bunker with nothing but the ancient canned foods, but I could tell from previous conversations and interactions that he deeply cared about Colette. He probably couldn’t stand the thought of wasting something she made.
That meant I was wrong about him all this time. He wasn’t a complete psychopath, and he had a heart. Just not one that beat with any sympathy or regard for me.
That actually made him worse than a psychopath. As far as I knew, psychopaths were born with some sort of genetic predispositions or chemical imbalances in their brains, or they were raised in shockingly traumatic environments that shaped their personality into something twisted and monstrous. In the end, as abhorrent as their behavior was, some of it was out of their control. They didn’t choose to be like that—nature, genes, and society molded them to be that way.
Nate actively chose to be a monster. In my eyes, that was definitely worse.
The last time he showed up to bring me food, I asked him what he was going to do to me, but he didn’t look at me or say a word. Just dropped the food and left.
His silence made me feel ten times worse. I had no idea what was coming, only that something was, and it filled me with a gnawing dread that made it impossible to sleep, even though I had a proper bed with a blanket now instead of an old, dirty mattress on a stony floor.
My brain felt like it was melting from exhaustion and anxiety, and my limbs felt like they’d been replaced by putty. Weak and limp. I barely had the energy to pick up the closest bottle of water when I was thirsty.
A sudden scraping sound made me sit up straight, senses on high alert. Nate appeared a moment later. His face betrayed no emotion.
“Get up,” he said.
On shaky legs, I did as he said.
“Time to go,” he said, tipping his head to the side to gesture toward the passage.
I followed him out of the bunker. In silence, he led me back to the hulking mansion and up to the fourth floor.
“In here,” he said brusquely, opening a door on my right.
With wide eyes, I looked around the new room. The floors were polished oak, partially covered by a patterned rug, and the walls were lined with gray silk wallpaper decorated with a silver brocade pattern. An ornate chandelier hung from a ceiling dome over an enormous bed that jutted out from the left wall.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“My bedroom,” Nate replied.
I turned to him with a frown. “Why are we in here?”
He nodded toward a door on the right. “Go in there and take a shower,” he instructed. “When you get out, you need to do your hair and makeup. You’ll find everything you need in there.”
“Are we going somewhere?” I asked. Perhaps Laurel had refused to accept the police report on my safety, and Nate was going to force me to spend an evening with my friends pretending that everything was fine.
“No.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t put your clothes back on when you’re done.”
Coldness struck at my core as I realized what that meant.
“You’re going to make me sleep with you,” I said in a hollow voice.
Nate laughed at me; a mirthless, patronizing sound. “Seriously?” he said, stepping closer. “You really think I’d do that?”
“Yes,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
Sexual assault wasn’t actually about sex. It was about control and power. It was about taking something from someone; stealing all the good things they used to know and leaving an empty shell behind.
Of course Nate would want to do that. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted to destroy me before he killed me—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
He smiled. It made his face look softer, but his voice was still laced with steel. “I’m not going to make you do anything, Alexis. You’re going to fuck me because you want to.”
“I would never want that,” I said, folding my arms.
“We both know that’s not true,” he replied, cocking his head. “Or did you forget the other day already?”
I scoffed. “You really think I’d willingly have sex with you?” I said in an acid tone. “I only did it last time to distract you long enough to get that knife. I didn’t want it.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but I wouldn’t give Nate the satisfaction of knowing the truth.
The arrogant smirk vanished from his face, and he pushed me up against the wall, hands gripping my shoulders tight enough to make me yelp with pain. “You did, and you’ll do it again,” he said thickly, voice threaded with violence.
A mixture of fear and fury spiraled inside me, making my blood boil. I mustered up every ounce of bravery I had and spat right in his face.
“Never,” I hissed.
Nate didn’t even blink. He simply wiped my saliva from his cheek and traced his wet finger down my face, as if he were gathering up tears spilling from my eyes. “You’ll give in,” he said, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Then you’ll be my little fucktoy for as long as I want.”
I shook my head, feeling sick at the thought of giving anything to this man. “Take me back to the bunker,” I muttered. “I’m not going to clean myself up just so you can degrade me.”
He let out a short, irritated sigh. “I won’t tolerate this attitude of yours for much longer,” he said, like I was a child who needed correcting. “So don’t fucking test me.”
“I said I won’t do it,” I mumbled.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Do you really think this is a choice for you? Do you want me to get those clamps and the battery again?” he asked, lifting his hands to wrap them around my throat.
Panic prickled down my spine at the thought of the agonizing electrical shocks I experienced down in the Blackthorne tunnels. “No.”
“Well, you’re going in that bathroom and cleaning yourself up either way,” he said, pressing his fingertips into pressure points on the sides of my neck. “Just let me know what it’s going to take. Clamps or no clamps?”
Pain ricocheted through my system as his fingers pressed even deeper. “Let go,” I choked out.
“Answer me first. Are you going to go in there right now, or do I have to make you?”
“I’ll go,” I whispered, realizing there was no point fighting it anymore. Like he said, he was going to get me in that bathroom either way. I might as well pick the path of least resistance in order to avoid extra pain.
“Good girl.” He smiled and stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides.
On trembling legs, I stepped into the bathroom and removed my clothes. Surprisingly, Nate closed the door a moment later, giving me some privacy.
I turned the shower on full blast and used the sound of the running water to mask my frantic search through the bathroom. There had to be something in here that I could use as a weapon. A razor that I could pick apart, perhaps, or even an old toothbrush that I could hide in my clothes for later. I’d heard stories of prisoners fashioning toothbrushes into shivs in the past. It would give me something to do in the bunker later, and eventually, it would be sharp enough to stab Nate in a vital organ again.
This time, I wouldn’t miss.
I went over the bathroom five times, heart sinking every time I failed to turn up anything useful. After the last attempt, I sank to the plush bathmat, covered my mouth with my hands, and let out a strangled cry of frustration. There was nothing in here that I could use.
A sour taste appeared in my mouth, and I got up and stepped into the shower, shoulders slumping with defeat. I should’ve known that Nate wouldn’t shut me in here without making sure there was nothing I could use against him.
All I could do was accept my fate. As soon as I was clean and made-up, I would be assaulted and violated. My body would no longer be my own—it would just be a vessel for that sick, twisted asshole to use and abuse for as long as he wanted.
I stayed in the hot shower until my fingers began to wrinkle. Then, with a heav
y heart, I finally got out, and with slow, halting movements, I used the makeup Nate had left on the counter to make myself look presentable. Concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles, foundation and blush to cover my sallow skin, and gold eyeshadow with a tiny amount of white eyeliner on the inner corners of my eyes to give them a bright, healthy glow.
When I was nearly done, Nate stepped inside, casting his gaze over my naked body before raising it to my face. “Drink this,” he said, holding out a glass of orange liquid. “Colette just brought it up. She made it for you.”
I frowned. “What is it?”
“Some old family recipe of hers,” he said. “Fresh-pressed juice with a bit of ginger and some herbs. She said it has all the vitamins you’ll need to feel better as soon as possible.”
“Oh, so you care about my health now?” I said, looking at him in the mirror as I neatened my eyebrows with a small brush.
“No, but I’m not going to tip Colette’s hard work down the drain,” he replied, eyes narrowing. “I’d drink it myself, but it has mango nectar in it, and I’m allergic.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Nate held up a palm. “Before you think about throwing it in my face, I’m not that allergic,” he said. “It won’t kill me. So don’t bother.”
Dammit. That was exactly what I’d been considering.
With a sigh, I took the glass from him and sniffed it. I had to admit, it smelled heavenly. I took a small sip and almost let out an orgasmic groan. Colette sure knew how to mix the best juices. It was incredible. Or maybe I just thought it was incredible because I’d recently lived off stale bread in a tunnel for two weeks.
“Tell her I said thank you,” I muttered to Nate, setting the glass down on the counter.
“I will later. Now hurry up and finish your makeup. I want lots of eyeliner and mascara,” he said, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “It’ll look good running down your face later.”
“Asshole,” I whispered when he stepped outside again. Even though he’d claimed multiple times that he wasn’t going to force me to do anything, his last comment all but confirmed that he would. After all, why would makeup run down my face unless I was crying and begging for him to stop?