Like every other night since the first time she pulled me in bed with her, I waited until she fell back asleep and took. Running my fingers along the path of her silhouette, I absorbed what she had. Mia didn’t mind, or at least she never mentioned anything. Deep down, I knew it was Masters she wanted, but Mia used me all the same. This is what we did. This was our relationship. We fed each other the only way we understood how.
In no time, Mia fell back asleep. Her soft breaths hypnotized me into a state of sweet serenity. My hands made their journey across her abdomen to her arse, pulling her close against my front to breathe in her natural flowery scent.
Regardless of what her file stated, Mia was nothing less than captivating.
Her shallow breaths hit my neck as my chest rose against her breasts. “Will you forgive me, Mia?” I asked, knowing one day I’d either abandon her, fuck her, or kill her.
“Mmhm,” she hummed half-asleep.
I was a sick fool. A murderous sick fool.
Mia had what I needed, and each night, I took it.
I just didn’t realize it would become an addiction until it was too late.
It should’ve been easy for the darkness to take over, so disturbingly easy considering I had all the elements necessary to drag me there. Why didn’t I end up there this time? Why, after all this time, did I desire to outrun the murky black abyss when before I’d allowed myself to drown in it?
Thoughts of Ollie continued to give me hope. I knew he was there, standing in the light, waiting for me. I slammed my eyes closed and imagined us there, the sun hanging high, running through fields of poppy, the blush satin petals tickling our ankles. It was warm, safe, and better than this reality.
But it was a temporary haven, and God could dangle Ollie and the future we dreamt of right over my head all he wanted—a tease. A cruel torment, giving me everything I never knew I wanted only to take it all away. How dare he test my strength? Did he not know I wasn’t reaching this time?
I was fucking taking it.
Over the last two years, I’d let all outside forces dictate my life, my feelings, my head. I had allowed everyone else control what my punishment should be for all my wrong-doings.
Thank you, God, for testing me. I’d learned my lesson.
I had suffered long enough. I’d paid my dues.
And in the end, even the once-upon-a-damned deserved to be happy, too.
The last thing I’d remembered before blacking out had been the black muddy shoes hanging from above when my vision transformed from blurry to black—pitch black.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and when my eyes snapped open, the darkness welcomed again. But I didn’t let it in—not this time. My immediate response was to scream, but the tape stretching across my lips not only prevented it but rose panic where it became harder to breathe.
Oxygen turned scarce, and my nose burned. My wrists and ankles had been bound together, and I twisted in place, throwing my joined legs out only to have my knees hit the walls all around me. There was no way out. I squeezed my eyes shut, and another hot tear tumbled down as my chest burned from the lack of air and the fear swimming through me, trying to pull me under the current.
Ethan. It had been him all along. But why didn’t I see it before? Once, I’d confessed Ethan had the heart of a grim reaper, and for months I’d let this man I thought I knew into my bed, even on nights he’d taken lives. Ethan didn’t only have the heart of a grim reaper. He had been the blasted Angel of Death all along. And I’d let him touch me, let him soothe me. I allowed him inside, and it pissed me off how wrong I’d been about him. Knowing human behavior was the only thing I was good at, and I’d gotten Ethan all wrong.
Ethan had led those guys to their deaths—stole lives—and he could have gotten away with all of it too if it hadn’t been for me walking in on him. He’d looked at me back in the classroom on the third floor with utter shock in his electric blue eyes, mine carrying the same horror before he took me down to the ground. “Sorry,” went on repeat until it turned into the last thing I’d heard before the blackness took over.
It wasn’t until the car came to a stop before I realized I’d been moving the entire time in this dark, small space. A door slammed, rattling the trunk I’d been confined in, and my tears stopped mid-stream. Remaining still, I awaited the inevitable.
This was it. Ethan would try to kill me, too.
I’d never been afraid of dying. As a matter of fact, Death feared me. For years, I’d danced on the tight ropes without a care in the world, taunting the ominous fate, whispering, “Take me, I dare you,” with my arms high at my sides. Turns out, Death was a scared little bitch.
But that was before Ollie had come into my life.
The moment Ollie forced his way in, he became my center. My gravity. Ollie loved me enough for the both of us until I’d learned to love myself. And eventually, I had learned. I’d learned to love myself and the person I grew to be. Dolor, the pranks, nor the bullying could take that away from me.
Ethan wouldn’t be able to either.
If Death wasn’t a scared little bitch, then it should surely be now because there wasn’t a fight I’d surrender to—not this time. I’d not only fight for myself, but for Ollie and a lifetime together.
The trunk opened, and a gust of crisp air blasted through the closed space I’d been trapped in. The bright sun forced my eyes closed, and I jerked my head away from the light for a moment until they could adjust.
“We’re here,” Ethan stated, but it was indifferent this time. Reluctantly, I blinked my eyes open, and Ethan’s features came into view. Hollow eyes stared down at me, and I fought words against the tape. Curses, death threats, and screams came out as high-pitched hums. For a brief moment, Ethan turned away and scratched the back of his head as his shoulders tensed against the plain black tee. Then he straightened his posture and turned back to face me. “This is your fault,” he emphasized, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself instead of me. He shook his head, releasing a broken exhale before his two large hands grabbed me from the trunk and threw me over his shoulder.
I thrashed against his strong hold, but there was no escaping Ethan’s tight grip at the back of my knees. Amid the struggle, I chanced a look around to see a dense forest surrounding us—a canvas of greens and browns. Not even the sky was visible from this angle, blocked by the betraying canopies of branches and leaves. Trees went on for miles with no sign of civilization besides the two of us. No sign of Dolor, Ollie, or help for that matter. Only Ethan and me. The Angel of Death and the ex-sociopath.
A door creaked open, and Ethan pushed his way through and managed to kick it shut behind him, erasing the light from outside.
It was dark again, and the musty air smelled of mold and vacancy. Wooden planks covered every wall, and Ethan turned to deadlock the door, giving me views of the entire space, which was limited. A kitchen with a small window above the sink sat against the back wall. Beside it, a back door. Another escape route. To my right, a dusty floral couch lay against a wood planked wall facing an empty wall with an interior door. I didn’t have much time before he whipped back around and silently walked across the creaky floors until we stepped through another doorway and descended a flight of stairs.
Fighting against him was useless, at least until I could be free of the restraints tied around my limbs. They were so tight, cutting into my flesh, and each move against them only burned deeper. Saving my energy became a priority. After the last step off the stairs, Ethan threw me backward until my back hit, then bounced off, a spring mattress.
He paced back and forth, tugging at his hair as I remained still, watching him. The room was tiny, with no other furniture aside from the mattress beneath me. My gaze steered from Ethan to a window. A slice of the sun’s rays glared between the two of us, sending dust particles dancing in the space like weightless snow. The window was high, out of reach.
“Why, Jett?” Ethan turned to face me with his arms in the air, cheeks
raging, and eyes straining. “You weren’t a part of the plan!” he screamed as his face shook. A lone tear ran down his cheek as he pushed himself on top of me. Ethan tore the tape from my mouth, and a scream ripped through me, desperate for anyone to hear, for possibly the trees to send a message across the UK until it reached Ollie.
Ethan gripped my jaw in one hand, and his face came within inches of mine. “I don’t want to hurt you,” despair flowed through each word, his eyes heavy with regret, “Please, don’t make me hurt you. If anyone could understand, it would be you. You just need to understand.”
Ethan pinned me still with a plea in his eyes and hesitantly let go of his lock around my jaw. With a window of opportunity, I threw my head forward and slammed my skull into his. The intense pain sent me sideways with an unbearable ringing in my ears. Ethan cursed under his breath before he pushed against my shoulders to hold me still. “Let me go!” I screamed. My throat was dry and thick and caused my scream to fade into a tear-filled whisper. “Please, Ethan. I didn’t see anything … I won’t say anything! Just let me go.” It was true. I wouldn’t say anything. He could let me walk out the door, and I could forget this ever happened. It was in my nature. Whether I wanted to forget or not, my brain had a history of abolishing moments that were too difficult to deal with.
For a fraction of a second, I thought he was going to let me go. But then something dawned on him, and his gaze went from apologetic to angry like a snap of the fingers. “And where will you go? Back to Masters? Do you honestly believe Masters or Lynch is going to forget your disappearance and not ask questions? I’m not a bloody idiot, Jett. I can’t risk it … and I’m not finished yet.”
“Finished with what? Haven’t you done enough?” Four guys died of suicide in the last seven months. I’d only walked in on Lionel, but it didn’t take a genius to put all the pieces together. Ethan had murdered all four of them. If he had been capable of that, what else was Ethan Scott capable of?
“Not yet,” Ethan whispered. “I have to finish what I’ve started.”
“You’re a sick son-of-a-bitch,” I screamed, then spit in his face.
Ethan slammed his eyes shut and wiped my spit from his face with the back of his hand. When his eyes opened again, a disturbing calmness swept through his black pupils. He launched forward and slapped the tape over my mouth again. “You just have to understand. I don’t want to hurt you.” Ethan’s forehead dropped to my thumping one. “Please don’t make me hurt you,” he gravely whispered. I closed my eyes, refusing to look into his blue ones. “Behave, Jett,” Ethan said to me in a soft tone. “Behave, and when the time comes, I’ll let you go. But right now, you need to cool off.”
He kissed my throbbing head and pushed himself off me, leaving me alone in the room.
Time elapsed. The sun died, and the moon moved passed the window out of sight. Heavy boots clipped the wooden planks above as Ethan continually paced the small cabin for hours. With every step, the floorboards creaked beneath, sending dust to fall from the ceiling and into the moon’s light. He had to come down sooner or later, and I preferred sooner. My bladder burned, reminding me I was human.
I pushed myself against the back wall and forced my eyes to stay open. My eyelids felt as if they were being pushed down against my will, and each time I drifted, I shook my head to keep myself alert. Outside the window, the haunting trees swayed against the harsh wind. My own words taunted me, “We’ll never be out of the woods,” and the irony made me chuckle.
But, I had been wrong before—a glass-half-empty pessimistic coward.
And there was no room left for pessimism in this world.
I was getting out of these damn woods, even if I had to cut down every tree.
Ethan’s boots bounced off the stairs, and my head snapped forward. A mixture of anger and adrenaline washed over me and woke me up entirely at once. The door opened, and he appeared, still wearing a black shirt with black jeans. His red hair looked almost black in the dark as well, and his blue eyes glistened like the moon against the ocean. Each step closer made me want to become one with the wall, but I held my ground, lifted my chin, and looked him in the eyes, giving him no escape from my silent promise to kill him as soon as I’d get the chance.
Exhausted, Ethan stood over me and dipped his fingers into his pocket and flicked open a knife. I held back from flinching, but shook my head and mumbled against the tape.
“Relax,” he muttered, placing one hand over both of my ankles before cutting them free from the bind. “You can use the loo, and I’ll feed you.”
Leaving my wrists still bound and the tape over my lips, Ethan led me up the stairs. The smell of sweet tomatoes wafted down the compressed stairway, and my feet moved slowly up each step, still heavy and numb from the lack of blood flow.
I thought about running and how stupid that idea would be, considering I couldn’t open a door with my arms behind my back. For the time being, I’d comply with Ethan’s demands and earn his trust until an opportunity arose.
The main floor was how I’d remembered. In the kitchen, a small pot set over a gas stove. I looked around and noticed there was no other bedroom, no other hallway, or upstairs. This was it. The only bedroom in this cabin was the one I’d been trapped in.
“Need to go?” Ethan asked as he pushed the door above the staircase open. My eyes flitted from his to the tiny bathroom. There was no cabinet, only a standing sink, a tub, and a toilet. You could tell there had been a mirror above the sink by the nail holes in the drywall, but it had been taken down. Ethan must’ve removed it. Smart.
I had to pee but didn’t want to. However, I didn’t know how long until I had my next chance. I dropped my chin, and Ethan laid his hand on my shoulder to guide me in. “I want to trust you, I do,” Ethan explained as he lifted my black POETIC hoodie and fumbled with the button on my jeans, “but I just can’t take the risk.” My eyes found the ceiling as he slid my bottoms down and sat me over the toilet.
After Ethan left the room and closed the door, tears slipped from my eye and soaked the tape stuck to my mouth, and the tape fell off halfway. I sat on the cold seat, sucking in enough air to fill my lungs while relieving myself in record time. The oxygen I desperately craved only made my dry throat worse.
There was a tiny circular window above the shower stall with no way to open, only to bust through. This gave me more than two ways to get out of here, but my best chance was out one of the doors.
Ethan appeared less than a minute later. “All done?” he asked as if he was having a conversation with a three-year-old. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper from behind me, crouched down, and wrapped his hand a few times with the paper. “I’m going to take care of you, Jett.”
“I hate you.” My voice was low, almost a whisper, and I slammed my eyes closed as his covered hand swiped between my legs. They didn’t open again until the toilet flushed. “Why are you doing this?”
Ethan stayed silent and pulled me up into a standing position between his crouched knees. One after the other, he slid up my panties, then jeans. He couldn’t look at me in the eyes any longer. Instead, his hypnotized gaze was focused on the way his fingers dragged up my legs.
Separating the living area and the kitchen was a small wooden table with two chairs. Ethan pulled out a chair and sat me down, putting me back into the restraints. He turned to face the stove and switched off the burner. “What are your plans, Officer Scott?” I attempted again, distancing myself from our prior relationship. “You plan on keeping me as a pet for the rest of your life? What was it you used to call me?” I leaned over the table, yanking my arms against the chair to get his attention. “Oh, that’s right,” I laughed, “I’m a storm. And you should know by now you can’t tame a storm.”
He hung his head, and every muscle in his arm tensed.
“I will get out of here,” I continued. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but there will come a moment when you least expect it where I’ll escape … And you know my past, Ethan. I hav
e no problem killing you if it comes to that. I could bash in your pretty red head and never bat an eye. I’d be able to carry on without an ounce of empathy for it. But you? You’d walk around with regret every day, more than the load your carrying now. I couldn’t imagine the daily pain you’d face if you ever hurt me.”
A growl roared from him before he slammed his fist through a cabinet. Knowing I got a reaction out of him brought a menacing smile to my face. Everything I’d said had only been a half-lie. The truth was, I may feel empathy because it found me before.
Ethan stormed toward me, grabbed my hair in his fist, and yanked my head back, his chest heaving. “You know what your problem is, Jett?” Despite every strand of hair ripping from my skull, I sucked in my lips and narrowed my eyes to match his internal strength. “You forget, you and me? We’re one and the same.” Ethan released his hold and returned to the kitchen counter, and my held breath returned in short, harsh shudders. “Don’t underestimate me.”
Afterward, dinner was silent.
Ethan spoon-fed me tomato soup he heated over the stove from a can. I’d thought about refusing to eat, but I needed strength. I needed to get out of here, and the only way was to take care of my health and eat the food he offered while planning my escape.
After the entire pot of tomato soup was gone, Ethan left me waiting at the table and returned to the kitchen counter. One by one, he hand-washed every spoon, spatula, and dish, drying and placing each item in their designated spot. He scrubbed counters, the table, and wiped down the stove before washing and drying his hands for the third time.
Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3) Page 2