AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Open the door, Celeste," he said, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the room. "I want to tell you how beautiful you look... face to face."
My heart thudded against my ribcage. The audacity. The sheer nerve of him to think I'd just waltz up to that door like some obedient pet.
"Maybe I don't wanna see your creepy-ass face," I shot back, but even as the words left my lips, my hand hovered over the doorknob. The cold metal seemed to burn against my heated skin.
"Scared, Celeste?" His voice taunted me, knowing damn well it was poking at the lioness in her cage.
"Fuck you," I muttered under my breath. But who was I kidding? The bitter taste of betrayal still lingered on my tongue, a constant reminder of why I was here, shackled not just by the chains but by the sick dance between revenge and desire.
Was I really ready to step into whatever mindfuck he had waiting for me on the other side of that door? My fingers twitched, betraying the masochistic yearning that was starting to root itself deep within my veins like some kind of twisted addiction.
"Damn you," I whispered, more to myself than to the man who held my leash. With a shaky breath I clutched the doorknob tighter.
The click of the lock disengaging echoed through the room like a gunshot, marking the end of one act and the beginning of another in this fucked-up theatre of darkness.
Chapter 24
Celeste
Itugged the wig down over my ears, taking a deep breath before twisting the doorknob. The room I stepped into was straight out of some billionaire's penthouse fantasy—plush carpets, modern art that screamed money, and a goddamn chandelier that probably cost more than my rent for a year.
And there he stood, my stalker, the epitome of tall, dark, and criminally handsome. "Celeste," he said, his voice wrapping around my name like a caress I didn't want but somehow craved. Damn it all, why did he have to be so charming?
"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stalker Extraordinaire," I shot back, my tone dripping with as much sarcasm as I could muster. It was a sick joke, really. What kind of twisted fairytale had I fallen into where Red Riding Hood starts getting hot for the Big Bad Wolf?
"Please, call me Nash." His smile was infuriatingly attractive. “Nash Rigby.”
"Sure thing, Creeper," I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms defensively. This whole scenario was messed up—him agreeing to stalk me with my consent, now acting like we were at some kind of perverse social gathering.
"Trust is a two-way street," he said, stepping closer, and I instinctively took a step back. "I need you to put this on," he continued, holding out a blindfold.
"Is this the part where you murder me?" I joked, even as I let him tie the damn thing around my eyes. It was that reckless part of me—the one that found its way into my blog posts late at night—that urged me to play along with this dangerous game.
"Hardly," he replied, amusement lacing his voice.
He led me by the hand, and every brush of his skin against mine sent jolts of reluctant excitement coursing through me. Jesus, what was wrong with me?
The ride was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the pounding of my own pulse. When the car finally stopped and Nash helped me out, the cool air hit my face, and I caught the scent of freshly turned earth and flowers. A cemetery.
"Where are we?" I asked, although somewhere deep down, I already knew.
"Somewhere important," he replied, removing the blindfold. And there it was, just beyond the iron gates—a sea of black umbrellas and the somber notes of a funeral song.
My heart broke at the sight of Aria's mother, her sobs cutting through the rain-soaked silence. It was more than I could take in—too much pain, too much loss.
"Someone wants you dead, Celeste." Nash's words were like ice water, snapping me back to the fucked-up reality of my situation. "This is as close as we can safely get."
"Fuck, what a gentleman," I sneered, trying to mask the tangled mix of gratitude and grief gnawing at my insides. He had brought me here, to this moment, to say goodbye in the only way we could.
Rain pelted down like tiny needles against my skin, each drop a cold reminder of the reality I couldn't escape. Hiding beneath the wide brim of a hat that wasn’t mine, strands of unfamiliar hair brushed against my cheeks—Nash's disguise for me. It was effective, too effective. Like everything else he did, crafted with infuriating precision.
From this woeful vantage point, I watched Aria’s mother—her frame wracked with sobs—as the casket lowered into the earth. A final descent I couldn’t witness up close because of some twisted shit involving me and a target on my back. Aria, my safe harbor in any storm, now just... gone. And here I was, forced to mourn from a fucking distance.
"Dammit," I whispered through clenched teeth, my voice as broken as the fragments of my heart. What kind of cruel game was this? Tears betrayed me, streaming hot and unbidden, blending with the relentless rain. Grief clawed at my insides, demanding release, but I swallowed it down, choking on the bitterness.
And then, as if summoned by my silent plea, I felt the warmth of Nash's hand enveloping mine. His touch should've been unwelcome, a predator's comfort I didn't want. But hell, it grounded me, his fingers lacing with mine in a silent promise of solidarity. The strangest damn thing—it calmed the storm in my chest, even as it pissed me off even more.
"Fuck you for being kind," I muttered under my breath, hating that part of me leaned into the contact, craving the comfort it offered.
