Panic steals my breath as he digs into his pocket and produces a set of keys. He then leans closer, voice dropping to a low, rough cadence. “I already gave you the answer to your question before,” he says. “During one of our sessions, I told you how much I enjoy puzzles, how satisfying it is to fit the pieces together.” He brushes my tangled hair behind my ear, and I suppress a shiver, forcing myself not to recoil. “You were a puzzle, London. I couldn’tnotput the pieces together. You’re the key.”
My heart rate climbs. “The key to what?”
He doesn’t respond, just calmly reaches for my hands to unlock the cuffs.
“The key to what, Grayson?” I demand, panic fully gripping me now. “God, do you know how insane you sound? Before the trial, I would’ve never diagnosed you as delusional. But now you’re making me question my own judgment as a psychologist.”
He grips my wrists, holding them bound together. The pressure pulses against my skin as he kills the slight distance between us. “You forget I’ve tasted you,” he says, his words a heated brand across my lips. “I’ve been inside you. Felt your desperation and longing. The pain you carry isn’t physical. You’re begging for the punishment you know your deserve, but never got.”
I blink hard, my heart clenching painfully. “You fucking tricked me,” I accuse, anger thrashing wild inside my chest. “Making me believe you had answers…that you actually care for me.”
He touches my cheek reverently. “I do care,” he says, his features tense, almost pained. “Do you know how difficult it is to watch the woman you care so fucking much for suffer, to live in agony, knowing the only way to help her is to break her.”
Fear compresses the space between us, crushing the air from my lungs.
His gaze darkens, voice lowering to a harsh whisper. “Fuck, London. I’m the only one strong enough to do this for you. That’s how much I care, baby.”
My entire body trembles as I press into him, desperate. “Grayson, please…”
He starts to pull away, and panic rips through me. “No—wait, please. Let me leave. Right now, Grayson. Please, let me go.”
He pauses, releasing a strained breath as he collars my throat. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers before his lips brush mine softly.
He kisses me, tentative at first, then deepening. My resistance dissolves as I pour my conflicted emotions into the kiss, desperately pleading with each urgent movement.
When he breaks away, my breath shudders. “Please,” I whisper on a broken plea. “Release me.”
His tongue coasts across his lips, his gaze dragging over me. “Not happening, doc. You’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
He hauls me across the console. My bare feet kick at the door as I struggle against him, my screams tearing into the night.
21
TEST
GRAYSON
It’s the fear of the unknown that plagues most of us. Even London, with all her knowledge and skills to navigate the darkest minds, isn’t immune to the terror of not knowing what awaits her on the other side.
She trembles in my arms. Her frantic cries crack against the pines. Adrenaline floods her body, my touch something sinister to her, rather than a comfort.
Still, I run my fingers through her hair, attempting to soothe her. She needs to be calm for what comes next.
The earthy scent of the woods blends with her delicate fragrance of lilac, and this feels right, like she belongs. Like she’s home.
“I have to chain you up now,” I say against her temple, tightening my hold as I brace for her fight.
But her resistance is weak, muscles fatigued, mind exhausted. Her energy is depleted, her body drained and starved. This could be her breaking point—if only she’d accept it.
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Grayson, please. Just take meinside. I’m dehydrated and hungry. I’m filthy. You can fight the compulsion. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”
I press my lips to the top of her head. “This isn’t only your punishment, it’s mine,” I say to her. “Why do you think the one person I develop these impossible feelings for turns out to be a narcissistic sociopath?”
A broken sob racks her chest. “Please…” she whispers.
She’s not listening. I groan as I lift her off my chest. “We both have some things to figure out, London. Only one way to do that.”
Her wrists are bruised and raw, dried blood rings her skin beneath the chains. I guide her toward a tall pine and link the chain around the narrow trunk. Her whimpers are starting to grate across my nerves.
