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“You chose me that day in the waiting room not because you believed that maybe, just maybe, I was the answer to your question of whether it was possible. You chose me because I was your proof that it’s not.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Yes, London. I couldn’t have planned every detail of this without your help. I’m good. Damn good and yes, intelligent—but this was a complex strategy over a long period of time that needed all the right pieces to fall into place. You enabled us.”
On some level, that’s a likely probability. As a master manipulator, Grayson figured out my weaknesses and used them to achieve his desired outcome. And I’m the vain psychologist that tried to control a volatile relationship with my patient.
I failed.
“This isn’t what I wanted.”
“It’s what you need,” he says. “You’ve been screaming into the void, demanding your answer, and the void heard you. This is predestined.”
“You are absolutely, fucking psychotic,” I say.
We turn off from the highway. After a few miles, the car bumps along a dirt road, and my anxiety grows. I try to free myself of the handcuffs again, but too soon we’re pulling into a darkened driveway.
He puts the car in Park. “We’re here.” He looks at me then.
I duck my head to see past the visor. Wooded scenery engulfs us. And in the middle of the dense trees, a large, contemporary style house graces the night skyline.
If he’s brought me to a house, then no one knows it exists. Most of my patients had furtive locations. Second homes. Trailers. Storage units. It was their kill spot. Their secret place to take their victims.
Panic ices my veins. Real panic. As the reality of my situation sinks in.
Grayson has taken me to his kill spot.
What have I done.
My breathing labors as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “Remember during our session when I told you how much I enjoy puzzles. There’s just something satisfying about putting the pieces together. I’ve been putting them together my whole life, searching for the one to end my suffering. You were a puzzle, London. And once the puzzle presented itself, I couldn’t not put the pieces together. You created an unknown variable in my life that I had to decipher. You were the key.”
“The key to what?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves in close to unlock the handcuffs.
“The key to what, Grayson? God, do you know how insane you sound? I never would’ve diagnosed you as delusional, but you’re making me question my integrity as a psychologist.”
He holds my wrists together. My skin stings, his tight grasp a pulsing pressure locked around my arms. He eats the distance between us, his face so close to mine I hold my breath.
“You forget I’ve tasted you,” he says, his words a hot whisper against my lips. “I’ve been inside you. I’ve felt your desperation and your longing. The pain you carry isn’t physical. You’re dying for the punishment you never got, but know you deserve.”
I blink hard. My heart constricts in my chest. “I want to leave. Now. Right now, Grayson. Let me go.”
He rests his palm on my cheek. “God, you’re beautiful.” Then his lips taste mine. Slow and tentative at first, he kisses me deeply, and I welcome it. Our movements become frenzied as I put every emotion into the kiss, begging him. When he breaks away, I say again, “Please, release me.”
He licks his lips as his gaze drags over my face. “Not happening, doc. You’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
He pulls me across the console. My bare feet kick at the door as I struggle against him. My screams tear into the night.
As he hauls me out of the car, the only sound is my frantic pleas cracking against the pines.
21
Test
Grayson
It’s the fear of the unknown that plagues most of us. Even London, with her knowledge and skills to defy the mind, is afflicted with the terror of not knowing what awaits her on the other side. Her body trembles in my arms. Her adrenaline careens through her system. My touch a malicious act instead of a comfort to her.
