by Dori Lavelle
I barely had a moment to pull myself together before Alvin’s hands were around my neck. As he cut off my air supply, I fought him and failed.
Finally, my body wilted, and darkness took over my mind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Foolish girl.” The voice was distant but clear.
I wasn’t dreaming. Alvin had not killed me, but the pain was still there, fire in my flesh.
That voice again. The same words. “Foolish girl.”
The voice did not belong to Alvin or Miles. I recognized the sound of it, but not the person it belonged to. Had someone come to rescue me? Was I still on the yacht?
I slowly opened my eyes, expecting a uniformed officer. Right and wrong. Right that it was not Alvin or Miles. Wrong about it being a cop.
Jim. What was he doing here?
He knelt beside me, his eyes vacant. He used a damp cloth to tend to my cuts. I didn’t speak as I watched him care for me, too shocked to say a word. If I spoke, he might come to his senses and leave.
He put the cloth aside and squeezed ointment from a small tube, rubbing it gently into the wounds on my arms. I panicked and bent my head to take a glance at my body. Relief poured out as I exhaled. Alvin must have put on my clothes before bringing me back to the chamber.
I hoped Jim hadn’t seen me naked. Heat rushed to my face at the mere thought.
The ointment stung. Tears sprang to my eyes. Tears of both relief and disappointment. Tears of shame.
But Jim was here. That was all that mattered. He cared enough to break out of his shell to save me. He’d decided to do the right thing. Maybe he had even fought Alvin off. Maybe he had called the cops. Or perhaps Alvin was on the island and Jim had taken the opportunity to check on me. No matter why, I was grateful.
“What stupid girl would marry a crazy man like that?” He shook his head, his dark features folding.
“I needed help,” I said. “I need help. Why didn’t you help me... sooner?”
His face clouded and he looked away, but continued dabbing at my wounds. His voice when he finally spoke was low and as clouded as his expression. “A man with my past doesn’t have many options. It’s easy for others to use me for their benefit.”
“What does Alvin have on you?”
So we had something in common. We were both being held hostage in different ways. Whose situation was better, more bearable?
“I’m sorry.” He stood. I didn’t miss the guilt reflected on his face. “I have to go. He’ll be back soon.”
Before I could say anything else, he left, locking the door behind him. If he had wanted to help me, he could have left it open, given me a chance to escape. But I supposed Alvin terrified him as much as he did me.
How could I blame him for staying out of the way? He had already risked a lot by coming to check on me.
I turned to see he had left something next to my bed. It was wrapped in newspaper. I opened it.
My mouth twitched at the corners at the sight of the pepperoni sandwich. I ate it up in a few bites, and hid the newspaper underneath the mattress.
I lay back down, prayed Alvin would not show up anytime soon. If he tried to kill me again, I might end up dead for real.
Did he even know I was still alive?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alvin towered over me, a deep furrow etched between his brows. He didn’t say anything as he watched me awaken. His eyes told me everything I already knew. He hated me for still being alive.
I shifted away from him, my head thick with sleep. My wounds and cuts rubbed against the rough blanket and mattress. I had to stay still, to keep the pain to a minimum and conserve my energy. I bit the inside of my mouth, waiting for him to strike.
He terrified me even in silence. Especially in silence. Without words, I had no way of knowing what he planned to do to me.
Today there was something else tucked inside my heart—my guilt. It had been there all along, but it had increased in size and grown thorns. It pierced me from the inside. I could no longer accommodate it. The time had come for me to let it out. I had to apologize again.
In the past weeks I had been so furious. I hated him. But I had to face the hard facts. No one was born evil. Not even Alvin.
I remembered the Alvin I had known in school. He was awkward and weird, but harmless. If someone had told me back then that one day he would be a rapist and murderer, I would never have believed it. He had been shy and scared, withdrawn. When I had pretended to show some interest in him, in the hopes I’d get something interesting out of him for the school paper, a spark had appeared in his eyes. I could only imagine the disappointment he must have felt when my interest turned out to be a lie. After everything that had happened, the pain, the wounds, the scars, I owed him a real apology.
I had destroyed his life, and as much as I wanted to survive, I did deserve everything I got. I should never have written that article in the first place. Hell, I should never have proposed the StudeX column idea for the magazine.
“I’m sorry, Alvin.” A lump formed inside my throat, so big I had to force the words past it. “I really am sorry for everything I did to you. I shouldn’t have written the article, I shouldn’t have shared something that was none of my business, something so personal. It was wrong. And I’m sorry it took me so long to say this. Please forgive me.”
I did not expect anything from him. Not forgiveness, nor understanding. I needed to say the words regardless of what happened next.
His eyes flickered and warmed. The warmth turned to ice almost immediately, then back to warmth again. Miles stood in front of me again for the first time in days.
He watched me for a long time, his mouth parted. And finally, after what seemed like ages, he nodded. “Thank you. I—” Before he could finish talking, evil hijacked his eyes, and his lips twisted into a sneer. He pressed a fist to his temple. “What the fuck are you making me say?” His voice was throaty, lethal. “Do you think an apology would do it? Do you think I could ever forgive you for what you did?”
It was terrifying to watch him transform from Miles to Alvin within a matter of seconds. His two personas were clearly at war, and while Alvin was dominant, Miles tried hard to come out. In the end only one of them could win. They were two sides of the same coin, together but different. Miles could never be Alvin. Alvin was too far gone to be anything but evil.
I hugged my knees, waiting for him to strangle me again. He didn’t.
He stormed out, and returned about an hour later to tell me I could go up on deck.
***
Jim sat on one of the deck chairs, reading a dog-eared paperback. He didn’t meet my eye, acted as though he had never come to my dungeon, never helped me.
My gaze drifted to Alvin, who stood a great distance away from me with his back turned, frowning at the water as though searching for something. His behavior was odd.
So many questions ran through my mind. What was stopping him from killing me? What was he waiting for? Was he waiting for me to relax, to let my guard down, so he could take me by surprise?
I looked away from him, fixing my gaze in the opposite direction. My time on deck was limited. I’d return to the questions later inside my chamber.
I studied the island, watched the trees as they beckoned for me, and listened to the seagulls calling out my name. Chloe, not Kelly. The sounds were comforting and a welcome distraction after the loud silence inside my dungeon.
Something appeared in my line of sight. I squinted in the sunlight to see better. A black yacht.
On reflex, I turned to look at Alvin. His back was still turned. He hadn’t seen it.
Anticipation churned inside my stomach. Could it be the cops? Should I start waving?
No. I had to come up with a better plan. If Alvin caught me doing it, he’d lock me up in the dungeon before the people on the other yacht saw me.
I had to remain calm. My safety was no longer in my hands. Maybe this time I’d be rescued for real.
&nb
sp; ***
I held my breath as the other yacht glided over the water, headed for the opposite side of the island. I ached with the unfairness of having neither the wherewithal nor privacy to call for help.
The yacht would soon disappear from view. Alvin might not even notice it if he didn’t turn around now. But it could also disappear without ever having seen me trapped on the Vendetta.
At least five minutes had passed and Alvin’s back was still turned, his gaze fixed on the water.
I returned my focus to the foreign yacht. How could I signal it?
Suddenly I remembered the flare gun in the box I’d found my phone in. I had to find a way to get to it. It might be my only chance.
I started walking toward the bridge when I felt someone looking at me. Jim.
His book was on his lap, his eyes on me. Was he still on my side? Would he be loyal to his employer?
Even though Alvin was a few steps away, if Jim called out to him, he’d be at my side in an instant.
I stopped walking. My eyes met Jim’s. Our gazes held for a second. Then he looked away and rose. To my horror, he looked directly at the foreign yacht. He watched it for a long time, but didn’t say anything to me or Alvin. Maybe he’d shield me this time too. Maybe he’d let me grab the flare gun.
My heart rate slowed, but picked up again when I looked back at the other yacht. It had disappeared.
I turned away again. Ice spread through my stomach when I saw Alvin watching me.
My best chance at saving myself was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alvin had not laid a hand on me since my apology. After escorting me from the deck and into my dungeon, he brought me food and left again without a word. At least an hour had passed and he’d not returned for the plate.
I sat on the mattress, back against the wall, legs and arms crossed. I stared at the door, willing it to open. I willed for the cops to flood the room, to lift me out of this filth and take me to safety.
More time passed and nothing happened. I was still alone.
I let out a long sigh and lay down, pulling the dirty blanket over my head. I did the only thing I could somewhat control. I slept. But the moment my head thickened with sleep, the door did open.
Alvin stood there, no longer looking lost. His face and eyes were hard, his lips pressed tight. A man on a mission.
“Get up. Studio, now!”
Why? He had my full confession. What more did he want from me? I didn’t dare ask. He looked dangerous.
I got up and followed him to whatever was my destiny.
Alvin had just closed the door to the studio when Jim walked in. The pit of my stomach collapsed when I took in the box in his arms, overflowing with what looked to be torture equipment.
Jim did not acknowledge my presence in any way. My knees weakened, causing me to sink onto the bed.
Following orders from Alvin, Jim installed poles, ropes, and all kinds of new things around the studio. While he worked, Alvin walked around the room, inspecting the equipment and nodding with approval.
Don’t you dare panic, I told myself. Help is on the way. You’ve come this far. You’ll get through this.
I doubted my strength when Jim pulled out more items from the box: collars, straps, a leather corset, and other bondage gear, all in red, black, and silver.
I raised my hand to my neck. My breath came out in sharp gasps, my heart slamming against my chest.
This was the grand finale. The time had come for me to be sexually tortured to death.
My leg muscles tensed as though I were getting ready to run, but I stayed frozen on the bed.
All pretense was out the window. I could not hide my fears from Alvin. He looked pleased to see me come to my knees.
Jim walked out, leaving me alone with the monster.
I glanced around. The cameras had not been switched on. It seemed he wanted to murder me without anyone watching.
Was he trying to protect himself? If no one saw him do it, no one would know. Except of course for Jim, but he had some weird loyalty to Alvin. How foolish was Alvin, though? He’d shared videos of himself torturing me. In the event of my death, the sick men online who had applauded him could end up testifying against him.
Maybe he didn’t care if anybody new about the murder. Maybe he’d turn himself in, tell the cops what he’d done.
What did it matter anyway? It would not affect me. I’d be dead. Alvin’s revenge would be complete.
I was already a corpse inside. At least when I died for real, he’d never be able to hurt me again. I’d never return to the dungeon. All that would remain in there would be my smell and the mattress’s memory of my weight. I hoped wherever I ended up would be kinder to me, that I wouldn’t face any more punishment for my sins on the other side.
If his intention was to kill me, he should go ahead. I could not sacrifice any more of my dignity. I would not let him rape me again. The bondage equipment he’d bought would go to waste. The last thing I felt on Earth would not be his penis inside me. I’d fight him until he found it easier to kill me.
When he laid his hands on my body, I fought him like a lion. I bit and scratched, punched and kicked. But I froze when I heard gunfire.
Alvin and I both turned to the door. The sound must have come from the hatch leading to the deck.
Alvin’s hand tightened on my arm as he drew me to his body.
He pulled a handgun from his back pocket and pressed the cool barrel against my temple.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Even as he pointed the gun at my head, I sensed his fear. He kept glancing at the door and then back at me.
I held firmly to the hope that the person on the other side was my rescuer. The cops had made it.
When the door burst open, it was Owen who appeared.
Nausea, fear, and excitement collided in the center of my chest. I burned with the urge to get up and run to Owen, but the gun was still pressed against my temple.
My head spun. I had been waiting so long for help to come, and now everything was happening so fast.
Owen aimed a gun at us. “Miles, let her go.” Fury dripped like venom from Owen’s voice. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Alvin moved the gun away from me and turned it on Owen. He released me in order to hold the gun with both hands.
“Chloe, go, get out of here!” Owen instructed. “There’s a boat outside. I’ll be right behind you.”
There was no time to hesitate. Alvin didn’t stop me as I reached for the bathrobe on the bed and wrapped it around myself.
Eyes downcast, I sped past Alvin, not giving him a chance to reach out and grab me. My head pounded and every bone inside my body ached, but I pushed forward, moving fast toward the door.
By the time I was on the other side, my world was already spinning. I could pass out any second. Not an option. I drew in a few breaths and willed my body to run to the finish line. I grabbed onto the banister, using it to pull myself up.
Halfway up the stairs, the silence in the studio was broken by raised voices and Alvin’s curses of rage.
“Miles, you’re going to do the right thing. You will let her go.”
The door was thrown open so hard it crashed against the wall.
“Try and stop me, you son of a bitch.”
Footsteps thudded up the stairs behind me. Run, a small voice urged me. I didn’t have the strength to, but I moved a little faster. At the top, I froze, completely dizzy.
Keep going. Keep going. I collapsed to the floor and dragged myself on my hands and knees. I had to get on deck. Now.
A few steps up and gunshots erupted.
“You fuck off. She’s my wife. Mine, you hear? We’re married now.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to hurt her. I won’t let you.”
Another gunshot. I clutched the banister.
Please don’t hurt Owen.
I wanted to go back, to help him. But how? They
both had guns. I had no choice. I had to get to the boat.
When I passed Jim, he didn’t try to stop me.
Then I made the mistake of looking back.
Owen had grabbed Jim and now held a gun to his head.
***
“Are you out of your fucking mind? What did you do to her?” Owen’s voice was a razor blade. “What man hurts a woman?”
My muscles grew taut. What would Alvin tell him? I pushed my worries aside. The whole truth would come out eventually. I wouldn’t argue when it finally did. Right now, I had to escape.
“Why are you here trying to save her?” Alvin’s words sounded as though they came from between gritted teeth. “I told you she’s my wife now. She belongs to me. You want to fuck her, is that it? I’ve seen how you look at her.”
“I asked you a question,” Owen repeated, while backing up the stairs with Jim as his human shield.
“She’s a bitch who deserves to die.” A long pause, then he said, “She ruined my life. I’ll take hers if it kills me.”
Using the bit of energy I had gathered, I climbed up the second flight of stairs leading to the deck. Each move was agony, but I kept going.
Below me, Owen was quiet for a long time, but I heard him backing up the stairs. I moved further up until I reached the landing. Desperately in need of rest, I collapsed onto my side.
My breaths came in gasps. I prayed I wouldn’t die waiting for my body to cooperate. From where I lay, I had a clear view of what was going on down the stairs.
“There’s no excuse for what you did to Chloe,” Owen shouted. I detected tears at the edge of his words. “This isn’t you. Miles, you were a good man once. I don’t even recognize you.”