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“You won’t get away with this,” I said, upper lip curling with disgust as I remembered how I let him fuck my brains out against my door the other day. Good god, what was I thinking?
His lips curved into a faint smile. “Eat your food, Sienna.”
“I’m not hungry.” I pushed the sandwich and salad down to the end of the mattress. “Where the hell am I, anyway?”
“My family’s old hunting cabin. I told you about it back in school, remember?”
I frowned, biting my bottom lip as I mentally shuffled through old memories. Paxton was right—he had told me something about a cabin in rural Virginia when we were on the deck during that momentous night at the lake house.
“You know people will be out looking for me, right?” I said, eyes narrowing. “You won’t get away with this. Not for long.”
“I will.” Paxton smirked and reached into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a familiar object and dangled it in front of me. My phone. “I took this from you the other night and used your thumbprint to unlock it. Then I changed the unlocking mechanism to a passcode that only I know. Since then, I’ve been using it to text people.”
“Saying what?” I hissed.
“I messaged your father, Tate, and Michaela. Told them you’ve been having a rough time lately and you’ve decided to go away for a while to clear your head.”
“And what did they say?”
Paxton looked down at my phone and pressed something on the screen. “Your father said, ‘Thank you for letting me know’.”
“That’s all?” I said, brows shooting up.
“Yeah. He’s not happy with you, is he?” Paxton’s lips curved into another smirk. I wanted to slap it right off his face. “Tate said, ‘I totally understand. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, or if you just want to talk. Call or text whenever.’ Then he messaged again yesterday saying, ‘Hope you’re feeling a bit better. Let me know when you’re ready to talk or hang out’.”
“What about Michaela?”
“She didn’t reply.”
My shoulders sagged. “I guess that’s not much of a shock. She’s really mad at me,” I muttered, mostly to myself. I knew Paxton didn’t give a shit about my personal problems.
“I’m not surprised you have issues with maintaining close relationships,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his jawline. “Considering how unstable you are.”
“Unstable?” I yelped, yanking on the chain. “Coming from the guy who has his high school ex-girlfriend chained to a fucking bed in a hunting cabin?”
“Yup. Somehow, I’m actually the saner one in this situation.”
“Bullshit,” I spat. “And I don’t have trouble with maintaining friendships. Only trouble that you caused. I know you paid off Tayla!”
Paxton cocked his head. “Huh?”
“Tayla! Michaela’s blonde friend with the nose ring.”
“Never met her.”
“Bullshit.” I slowly shook my head. “You’ve been following me. Stalking me. You knew I was going out with Tate and Michaela that night, so you set something up to make sure I was totally alone by the end of it so you could take me off the street without anyone knowing.”
He smiled thinly. “You’re partially right. I’ve been watching you, and I was planning on taking you the other night. But I actually had a whole other plan set up to get you alone and ‘coincidentally’ run into you. It was just a stroke of luck that you ended up getting into an argument with Michaela. Made things ten times easier for me.”
“Why the hell did you bring me here?” I asked, pulling on the chain again.
“Because no one can hear you scream out here. My family hasn’t used this place in years, and the nearest neighbor is miles away.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said in a low voice. “I meant: what’s your plan? Are you going to finish the job you started four years ago? And why the hell did you leave me here alone for three whole fucking days before you showed up?”
Something occurred to me as I spoke. Despite Paxton’s obvious hatred of me, he’d ensured that I was taken care of during my captivity here. I had food, water, and a functional bathroom. Soap and toothpaste, too, so I could stay clean and fresh. That could mean some tiny, twisted part of him secretly cared for me. And if that was true, then it was possible that I could convince him to let me go. I just needed time, along with the right words.
Then again… perhaps he was only taking care of me because he saw me as a possession. Something to keep for a long, long time. Maybe even forever.
