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Chapter7
Ruth
My head hurts as I try to pull myself up on the floor but I can’t seem to move, my arms awkwardly pulled behind my back.
“Oh shit. What the hell?”
“I’m glad you’re awake, Ruth. I wouldn’t want you to sleep through this.” The cold, arrogant voice makes me cringe backwards.
“Adam? What’s going on?”
“You thought you could just go on with your life? Just leave me and I wasn’t going to say a damn thing about it? You’re mine. There’s no way in hell I’m letting some prick cop take what’s mine. You think I don’t know that you slept with him!”
Dammit! I groan and try to sit up again, realizing finally that my hands are tied behind my back and my feet are tied as well.
“Adam, you need to let me go. I’m not your property and you don’t get to do this. We’ve broken up. It’s none of your business who I choose to be with.”
Instead of releasing me, he grins and holds up a match. “I don’t think you understand. We belong together. If I have to kill the both of us to make sure that we’re together forever than that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” I whisper, horrified that I never saw how clearly sick he is.
He shrugs. “Maybe. Did I ever tell you that I was raised in an orphanage? My parents both died shortly after I was born.” He pauses, holding the match in front of himself and watching it burn his own fingers before he snuffs it out. “Well, my dad did. I didn’t find out until later that my mother killed him and was in a psychiatric hospital.”
Shock rolls over me. I’ve never heard anything about this. Why didn’t he ever say anything.
That’s easy. Because he’s as messed up as his mother.I pull and tug at my wrists, grimacing when I feel the rope binding digging into them. He just shoots me a sick grin.
“I’m really good at knots. You’re not getting out of those ropes. We’re going to die together just like my mom said she should have died with my dad.”
I stop struggling. “Did you talk to her?”
“Nope. I found some old tape of the news reports of the trial. It was a big deal in our little town. They covered it pretty extensively.”
The pride in his cold voice makes me queasy. He sounds like he’s proud of his parents’ notoriety!
“You don’t really want to do this, Adam. Come on. Let me loose and we’ll talk about getting back together.” Desperation tinges my voice as hysteria tugs at my mind. I’m not going to get out of this one unless I can convince him to let me go. No one else is riding to my rescue.
He smirks and it’s a twisted rictus of an actual smile. A shiver runs over my skin and my blood chills in my veins. “You must think I’m an idiot. You don’t want to get back with me. You’re all hung up on that other bastard. But you don’t get to leave me. I’ll kill us both first.”
He tosses a lit match and that’s when I notice the smell of gasoline all around. A wall of orange and red flames springs up and I scream.
He walks over to a desk chair and sits in it like he’s about to do taxes or something. His elbow leans against the wood and he closes his eyes, yawning.
I tug and pull desperately at my bindings, hissing a breath out through my teeth when I feel blood trickling down my wrists and onto the dirty floor.
He opens his eyes but then leans back in the chair, crossing his ankles on the floor, watching the growing flames around us, hypnotized. Hysteria bubbles up in my chest, strangling me. I can feel fire licking at my feet and I pull my feet higher, away from the flames.
My eyes lift when I hear a thud in front of me. Tears start pouring down my cheeks when I see Tate standing there. He’s shaking his fist and growling at Jeremiah to take the piece of shit out of his sight.
“Tate? Is that really you?” Jeremiah drags Adam back out front and presumably outside.
“Yeah, baby. It’s me. Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have known he was sick,” I babble as he tugs at the ropes but they only seem to tighten.
A crash off to the front and sparks and flames roar up to the ceiling. The air is heavy with heat and ash and my chest is tightening. I cough and feel the burn invading my lungs. Heat scorches my feet again and I can’t help myself. I’m not getting out of here. Not alive. Guilt edges out fear and I smile shakily at Tate.
“I’m so sorry bout this. I knew you were hot but this isn’t what I meant.”
