Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I’m here. I’m going to give you everything.
I’ve never come so hard.
How is it I’m so at ease in the arms of a killer?
My phone rumbles with a text. I reach for it, thinking it might be Mina asking for more information.
Sir: Did you sleep well?
I’m confused until I see the name of the person texting me. Sir. A tremor runs through me.
He put himself in my phone and had the gall to name himself Sir.
Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine?
I let myself succumb to him, submit to the fantasy. And now, in the cold morning light, I know the truth.
This is all a game. He knows how to draw me in.
My lungs twist, and it’s hard to breathe. Everything I’ve yearned for, he served up on a silver platter. But I am the one on the menu. My fear, my longing—delicacies to a sadist like him.
The question is, why? Why is he doing this?
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey. Damn him.
The ceiling and corners of the room hold nothing but white crown molding. No cameras. Is he watching me, even now? Or did the concierge report to him?
He’s rich enough to afford both tech and spies and smart enough to remain ten steps ahead.
He hacked my phone. I should block him.
But no. His number is data, and I can use data to build a case.
I need to stay calm. Logical. I need all my faculties focused and firing if I’m going to beat him.
And I will beat him. I don’t care if he’s the richest and best-prepared adversary I’ve gone after. No one is above the law. Justice comes for us all.
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey.
He’s about to find that this prey has teeth.
A knock on the door signals room service. I leap out of bed, ignoring the pain singing through me, and grab a bathrobe.
Breakfast is a smorgasbord. Coffee, tea, juice. Delectable little muffins with tiny pots of marmalade. Fluffy scrambled eggs. Enough food for three people and another vase with a sprig of jasmine.
While I eat, I use my phone to do some digging of my own. I won’t get as deep as Mina, who trolls the hellish depths of the dark web like a demon, but I have to do something. I need to know details about him like he knew about me.
He knew my dress size. And that jasmine is my favorite flower. I find that more disturbing than him knowing my past. About. . . Elyria.
I scroll through his Wikipedia page. Born a few years before me. Scion of the rich Roy family. They’re the sort of old money who can afford to have a family crest. Red and gold with a roaring lion. Like the lions on his cufflinks and the lions that adorned the straps of my dress.
He can’t help marking me in any way possible.
I fight the urge to snarl and scroll further. The article links to James and Mona Roy, Rex Roy’s parents, now deceased.
And now I remember the story. Two wealthy, respected New Rome citizens gunned down in an alley in front of their young son. It was the headline of every newspaper at the time.
They died a few years before the Bondage Killer came for my family.
He’s an orphan, like me. His parents were murdered—like mine. We were around the same age, too. Children trapped in a nightmare.
There’s a picture of the dark-haired boy he’d been standing beside the double grave. It’s sick what these reporters will do for a story. How they’ll photograph a ten-year-old and plaster his grief all over newspaper stands throughout the nation.
The headlines are familiar—Murder outside a movie theater. Rich Roys gunned down. Nightmare. No one is safe—and remind me of the ones from my hometown. Horrors in Elyria. Serial killer slays family. Small town under siege.
A wave of heat rushes over me. I drop my phone and press my hands against my eyes.
His voice comes to me. Breathe, little bird. I feel his weight on my chest. Grounding me. Keeping me present. His massive frame shadowing mine. Standing between me and the rest of the world. Keeping me safe.
My phone rings. Sir calling. A smile touches my lips, defying the pain in my heart. I dash a hand at my eyes and answer.
“You didn’t reply to my text.” His voice is deep and gentle. A little chiding.
I grip my phone tighter. I don’t know why. I should be throwing it across the room. My heart beats painfully in my chest.
“Little bird? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I wipe my eyes.
“Do you need me?” There are sounds of movement in the background. “I’ll come to you.”
“No,” I choke out. “Please. I need. . . space.”
“All right.” His voice is so soft. How am I having a moment with him? I should be fighting this, but right now, his voice is steadying, anchoring me.