AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Like he’s counting… assets,” I mumble.
“And how to get to them,” she continues.
Son of a bitch!
“Why should I believe any of this… Mrs Holt?” Her name drips from my tongue like tar.
She frowns. “I never liked you, Miss O’Rourke.”
“My point exactly. Then why are you doing this?” I want to spit more comebacks at this woman, but her answer comes too quick.
“Because I was wrong.”
My turn to frown.
“About you,” she continues. “I was wrong about you. You saw the change in my son long before any of us did. I caught it far too late. And now… only blood binds us; and it’s not thick enough anymore.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re saying.”
“He needs to be stopped.” She turns toward the open door. “Whoever that person is… it’s not him.”
“There might be only one way to stop him.” Softness touches my voice this time around, this whole interaction feeling absolutely surreal.
Only the moment her eyes catch mine again, a different type of pain lives there. “I think he killed my husband.”
My mouth drops at the same time as my arms fall to my sides.
Suddenly, heavy steps become a tad louder, and she walks out the door without another glance.
I’m left wondering what the fuck alternate reality have I just fallen into, because I don’t recognize whatever is happening around me right now.
Definitely surreal.
I shake my head and rush to close the door behind her, then turn my attention back to the large chest of drawers. The damn thing is heavy, but I plant my feet on the floor and with a deep screech, it finally moves. It only reaches the middle of the door, when a disturbing laughter echoes in the corridor behind it.
“Shit.”
“You fool yourself thinking that a piece of furniture will keep me away from you. If I want you, I will get you!” The door bursts open, hitting the corner of the dresser that partially blocks it, and Ryan slips through. Two steps and my back hits the wall, his hand wrapped around my throat, the other one gripping my hip. “There is no escape from me. There will never be any escape for you. No matter where you go, no matter where you run, I will fucking hunt you. Those photos of you burying the man you killed will haunt you. The video I took as you stood and looked at his corpse, with no remorse in your eyes, will fucking haunt you. I can destroy you. And that alone strips you of that freedom.”
The back of my tongue feels too big for my throat as his grip tightens, and that hand on my hip suddenly hits bare skin, sliding upwards under my shirt. I’m not sure how many muscles one has in their torso, but all of mine tighten to the point my lungs refuse to take in any air. I claw at that hand, pulling it away as fast as I can, but he goes back in, straight up to my bra covered breast, gripping it. A pained, strained scream escapes my throat, taking with it the last of the air I had in my lungs, and I can’t force him off now… not when he holds me that way.
“This is mine too.” The elastic of my bra scrapes my ribs as he grips the cup and yanks it down, pressing his hand over my bare breast. My brain is telling me to launch at him, to kick him in the balls, to do anything but stand here in his grip, allowing him to touch me this way, to force himself on me in this way. But my body isn’t cooperating. I can’t fucking explain it. It’s like in the nightmares I have once in a while, where I’m getting attacked and I try to scream, but no words come out, not because I’m mute… but because I’m frozen. There’s a disconnect between my brain and my nerves… and it happens when those beady, muddy eyes pin me the way they’re doing now.
“It took a while to break you. But look at you now… it was fucking worth it.” He grins and leans over, his lips almost on mine. But something inside of me breaks, the idea of his lips on mine so utterly repulsive that my knee suddenly connects with his groin before I’ve even finished thinking about doing it.
Only it wasn’t hard enough to get him off me.
As he pulls back and that mad gaze hits me, I understand it was definitely hard enough to piss him off.
“Sir.” A knock on the cracked open door interrupts us. “Your guest has arrived. Shall I bring her up?”
“Fucking lucky you are,” he whispers to me. “Yes, Gordon, take her to my room.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Would you like to meet this one too? Maybe you should. Teach you a thing or two for when you’re going to do your wifely duty.”
“Fuck you.” I’m seething. I swear it comes and goes at all the wrong moments. Never when I truly need it.
