by Stella Hart
“Stop,” he choked out. “Nate… I didn’t mean to hit you earlier. I just needed to—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nate roared, slamming a fist into the back of his head.
Greg let out another grunt of pain and slumped to the other side, turning his attention to me. “Sweetheart. You know I wasn’t really going to kill you,” he rasped. “It was just a game.”
“Fuck you,” I spat. I grabbed a thick chunk of his hair and used it to lift his head before slamming it down into the floorboards, face first.
There was a satisfying crunch as his nose shattered, but it wasn’t enough to placate my rage. It was pouring through me like acid now. Burning, vicious, potent.
Gritting my teeth, I leaned over and picked up the knife he dropped earlier. Then I held it above his neck, ready to bring it down and open his carotid, just like he did to my father ten years ago.
“Alexis, stop,” Nate said, grabbing my arm.
“No!” I shouted as he dragged me to my feet. “He killed my father!”
“I know. I heard what he said.”
“Let me kill him!” I said, trying to wrench myself out of his iron grip.
Greg moaned pathetically on the floor beside us, blood leaking from his broken nose. I couldn’t wait to see more of that blood pouring out of him.
“Alexis.” Nate’s deep voice cut through the red haze of my anger again, and he pulled me further away. “You can’t kill him.”
Hot tears streamed over my face and flowed into my mouth. “Get the fuck off me!” I screamed.
Nate squeezed my arm tighter. “Listen to me. I understand why you want to kill him,” he said in a low voice. “I understand it better than anyone. But he has information that we both need. We can’t let it die with him. Not yet.”
My shoulders slumped as his words echoed in my head.
He was right.
I took a deep breath and stared up at him, still scarcely able to believe that he was here with me. Then I dropped the knife, went up on my tiptoes, and kissed him.
7
Alexis
I pressed my mouth onto Nate’s, letting my tongue run along the seam of his lips, and he let out a soft grunt of surprise. Then his lips opened up, tongue meeting mine, and his hands moved like magnets to my hips, holding me steady.
I never thought I’d think this about Nate Lockwood, but from now on, he was the only person I wanted to kiss. Nothing about it felt wrong anymore, despite our warped history. It felt right. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right.
A moan escaped my mouth, and I leaned closer to Nate, bracing my hands on his chest. He moved one of his own hands to my jaw, gripping it tightly so he could deepen the kiss.
All of a sudden, he broke away and stepped back to put some distance between us. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were lit with an intense, fevered expression. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
“You found me,” I said breathlessly, stepping forward to close the distance between us. “You saved me.”
Nate’s gaze dropped from mine. “I didn’t come here to save you,” he said stiffly.
A sudden coldness struck at my core. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said. I didn’t come here to save you.”
I nervously brushed a strand of hair behind my ear as confusion roiled in my stomach. “I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought—”
Nate cut me off. “I’m not your fucking knight in shining armor, Alexis,” he said. He jerked a thumb toward his uncle. “I came here to get him and take you back. That’s all.”
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes. That made me think he was lying.
Yes, he had to be lying. He kissed me back a minute ago. He opened up to me, letting my tongue dance with his, and when I moaned and melted into him, he took control. His big, powerful hands had been all over me too, needy and possessive.
He wanted it. He just didn’t want to admit it. Same old story.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you,” I said.
Nate finally raised his gaze to meet mine. His expression was unreadable. “Nothing’s changed between us, Alexis. I still think you killed those girls. You’re just the lesser of two evils in my life right now.”
“But—”
Nate lifted a palm. “I don’t have time to argue about this. Are you going to help me get that asshole into the car or not?”
I let out a sigh. “Yes. I’ll help.”
Greg let out a keening groan of agony as Nate went over to grab him. “Get the fuck away from me!” he shouted, thrashing around on the floor. “I’ll rip your fucking head off!”
I glanced over at Nate. “I think he might’ve taken the chloroform from your car,” I said. “Should we get that to shut him up?”
“Where is it?”
“Probably in the shed with his other stuff.”
“I’ll go and look for it.” He pointed to the couch. “Sit there and keep an eye on him. If he tries anything, scream. I’ll hear you.”
I sat down and watched Greg writhe and grunt on the floor. He didn’t bother trying to convince me to free him again. He must’ve realized by now that I’d never believe a word he said after everything he’d done to me.
Nate returned a few minutes later. “You were right,” he said, holding up a small bottle and a piece of fabric. He soaked the fabric and held it over Greg’s bloodied nose.
Greg gasped and thrashed around again, trying to fight it, but his energy and resolve soon faded. He let out one more grunt before slumping on the floor, eyes fluttering shut.
“Do you need help carrying him out?” I asked.
Nate shook his head and hoisted his uncle over his shoulder. “I thought I would before because he wouldn’t stop thrashing around, but he’s fine now. Just open the trunk for me when we get outside.”
I nodded and followed him out the back door. He’d parked around the side, next to the old blue Honda that Greg had stolen after he ditched Nate’s car.
“Keys are in my pocket.” Nate dipped his chin toward the left side of his jacket.
I hurriedly took the keys and unlocked the trunk for him. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as he dumped his uncle into the small space. Then he straightened his shoulders and slammed the lid down.
“Get in,” he said curtly, motioning to the passenger seat.
I did as he said without a word, grateful for the fact that he’d saved me, even though he refused to actually refer to it as a rescue mission.
Five minutes later, we left Thunder Bay and turned onto the main stretch of road that ran along the coast, heading north to Arcadia Bay.
We didn’t say a single word to each other for the entire half-hour drive. I didn’t mind. It was a comfortable silence, like we were old friends, and for the first time in weeks I felt completely safe in his company.
I knew I probably shouldn’t feel that way, because he claimed that nothing had changed between us, but I simply couldn’t believe him. Something had changed a while ago, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
When we finally pulled into the Lockwood estate, Nate pulled Greg out of the trunk and put him back over his shoulder. “I think we should put him back in the bunker,” he said, tilting his head toward the woods on the far western side of the land.
See? a triumphant little voice whispered in the back of my mind. Somewhere along the line, Nate had started saying ‘we’ when it came to decisions that needed to be made. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have wanted my input on anything at all, and he would’ve cut me down if I said a word against him.
I nodded. “Good idea.”
When we reached the bunker, we stepped down into the main space and dumped Greg’s unconscious body on the bed. As Nate busied himself with the chains and shackles, he issued an order to me. “Look around and see if he has some sort of first aid kit in here. I want to wrap his ankle where I cut it. We don’t want it getting septic.”
I found a white plastic container with
a red cross on top of it in one of the back storage cupboards. “This looks promising,” I said as I pried the lid off. “Yup. Full kit.”
“Bring it here.”
We doused Greg’s right lower leg and foot with foul-smelling antiseptic liquid, dried it off, and wrapped a bandage around it.
“That’s good enough for now,” Nate said as he watched me secure the bandage with a bit of medical tape. “Let’s get out of here.”
“There’s definitely no way for him to escape, right?” I asked, anxiously glancing around the space.
“No.” Nate held up the key to the shackles. “I’m taking this with me.”
We left the bunker and secured the hatch. Then we trudged out of the woods and started heading across the grounds of the estate. There was no talk of me going back in the other bunker. Not yet, anyway.
I cleared my throat as we walked across a frosty patch of lawn. “I don’t know how much you heard when we were back in the house,” I said. “But Greg was the original Butcher. He framed my father.”
Nate nodded stiffly. “I knew about it before I got there. I found a box of tapes when I was looking for you two. He filmed himself killing people.”
My brows shot up. “Are you serious?”
“Yup. I saw every single tape. Even the one where he killed Emilie.”
The pain I saw in his eyes made me look away. It reminded me too much of my own. “Did you call the police?” I asked, figuring he didn’t want to linger on the subject of Emilie’s murder for too long.
“No. You had a good point a few weeks ago. The cops around here aren’t trustworthy. Not when it comes to all the old Butcher shit.”
“I guess we finally agree on something, then,” I murmured.
Nate went quiet for a moment. Then he glanced over at me. “Did Greg tell you much?” he asked. “About the murders, I mean.”
“He told me a few things. He said he killed a lot more than thirteen people, and that there were so many he couldn’t even remember the exact number. He also made some comments about keeping them for days or weeks before killing them.”
“Anything else?”
I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck. “He didn’t say why he killed them, if that’s what you mean, but he kept saying stuff about needing to do it. So I think he must feel some sort of compulsion to kill.”
“Jesus,” Nate muttered, shaking his head.
“He also said something about needing to get rid of me because I knew too much,” I added.
He clenched his jaw and looked at me. “Don’t worry. He can’t touch you now.”
He sped up his pace after that, hands balling into fists by his sides.
“Nate. Stop for a second,” I said, coming to a halt on the lawn.
He turned to look at me. “Why?”
I took a step closer. “I just wanted to say that I know better than anyone how fucked up it feels to be told that a close relative is a murderer,” I said softly. “It’s a huge shock to the system. So… we can talk about it if you want. Maybe it’ll help.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m fine, Alexis.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode over to an entrance on the south terrace of the mansion.
I trailed after him and stepped inside the house. He led me upstairs to his room and pointed toward the bathroom. “I need to clean you up,” he said. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”
I glanced downward. He was right. Some of the cuts Greg had inflicted on me during the torture session had opened back up, and my sweater and pants were stained with red sticky patches.
As I haltingly removed my clothes in the bathroom, wincing every time the fabric brushed over a cut, Nate stooped to look through one of the cupboards. He rose back up with another first aid kit.
He cast an appraising eye over my dirty, bloodied body, lips pressing together in a tight line. “This is going to hurt,” he said, holding up a brown bottle of antiseptic fluid and a mound of cotton. “But I have to do it.”
“I know,” I murmured, watching as he carefully dabbed the liquid over my cuts. He did it so tenderly that it was hard to believe he’d been cutting me up in the same way as his uncle just a few weeks ago.
When the cuts were all clean, he wiped away the excess fluid and pressed waterproof bandages over them. “I’ll check them tomorrow,” he said as he patted the last one down on my skin. He took a step back and raised his brows. “Did I miss anything?”
I shrugged listlessly. “I have a few bruises, and my whole body aches, but I guess there’s not much you can do about that.”
Nate’s eyes turned steely as he stared at me. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of silence. “Tell me the truth."
The question hit me like a blow to the stomach, and my gaze dropped to the tiled floor. “Yes,” I murmured.
Nate’s fingers went under my chin, forcing it upward. “Tell me what he did to you,” he said gruffly.
Hot waves of shame washed over me, even though I knew Greg was the one who should feel ashamed over what happened. Not me.
I swallowed thickly and spoke up again. “He had a piece of ginger. It was really big and peeled. He used it on me. In me. Sometimes he left it in for a while so it would burn me. Then the rest of the time he pulled it in and out, like it was some sort of… you know…”
I trailed off as Nate’s gaze traveled downward, landing between my legs. Suddenly self-conscious, I dropped my hands to the mound there and covered it.
“It wasn’t in here,” I said softly. “It was—”
Nate nodded and held up a hand so that I didn’t have to say it all out loud. “I get it. Does it hurt?”
“Yes. But it’s not bleeding. I checked earlier when he let me use the bathroom.”
He nodded again, lips pressed tightly together. “Wait here,” he muttered.
He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes. When he returned, he had a small white pill in his left hand. “Take this,” he said, holding it out to me.
I eyed the pill with suspicion. “What is it?”
“It’s one of the painkillers your grandpa prescribed to me after you stabbed me.”
“My grandfather treated you?” I said, brows wrinkling. “As in Edward Paxton Jr? Owner of the hospital?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. He knows my mom, so he practically rolled out the red carpet for me.”
“Must be nice to be a Lockwood,” I said with a thin smile. “I bet if I went to that hospital with a stab wound, Edward would fob me off on a first-year med student.”
Nate’s mouth turned up in a faint smile to match mine. “Take the pill. It’ll help with the pain.”
I tipped my head backward to swallow the pill. Then I looked up at Nate again. “I forgot to ask before. How did you know where Greg took me?”
“I didn’t know for sure. But when I found out Greg was the real Butcher, it made me think about your dad.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “That made me think of your old place, and how no one ever goes there anymore. It’s practically an island legend at this point; the old Butcher House. I figured there couldn’t be a better hiding place than that. A place no one even wants to think about, let alone go near.”
“Well, I’m glad you thought of it,” I said softly. “If you didn’t find me, he would’ve killed me.”
“I know.” Nate dipped his head toward the other side of the bathroom. “You should take a shower now.”
I nodded and turned toward the shower enclosure. Then I frowned and turned back. “Can I ask you something first?”
Nate’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“If you still think I might’ve had something to do with what happened to those girls last month, why did you bother saving me tonight?”
“I told you, I didn’t—”
I cut him off. “Let me finish. What I mean is: you could’ve left me with Greg down in that bunker twenty minutes ago. You could’ve let him kill me. That way you’d save yourself
half of the dirty work, because you’d only have to kill him later. Not me as well.”
Nate was silent for a moment. I noticed he was pointedly avoiding eye contact with me again. “I need you alive,” he finally said. “You have information. Not just about the dead girls, but about everything that happened ten years ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about all that stuff you told me about your dad, and the way he was set up by some sort of cabal. The one you call the Golden Circle,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I used to think you were just making shit up, but obviously, you were right about all of it. So I need you to help me figure out everything that happened back then. Who was involved, why, and how.”
“Right. I guess that makes sense,” I muttered, even though I didn’t believe him. There was no way that was the only reason he’d decided to rescue me from his uncle. He could say it until he was blue in the face, but that kiss earlier said something else entirely.
His eyes rose to meet mine again. “Is that all?”
“No.” I tilted my head slightly to one side. “There’s something I think you should know. Something I’ve decided.”
“What?”
I hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. “This is going to sound crazy, but… I’m staying.”
Nate frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m staying,” I repeated. “With you. I understand if you want to go back to the way things were and take me down to that other bunker when I’m finished in the shower, but you really don’t need to. I’m not going to try to run again.”
“Why?” he asked, eyes narrowing. He probably thought I’d succumbed to Stockholm syndrome.
“Because as fucked up as everything has been between us over the last few weeks, I actually feel safe with you now,” I replied, staring boldly up at him. “I know you said you didn’t rescue me earlier—you were just taking me back from Greg—but that doesn’t change what happened. When I was in danger, you showed up, and you stopped me from getting hurt. And like I said earlier, Greg wanted to kill me for what I knew. That means the others in the Golden Circle will want to kill me too, if they ever find out that I know about them, and they probably will find out, because I think Greg is still communicating with them in some way. Probably via your mother. So I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here with you. I need you to keep me safe.”