Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I study her for a long moment, watching the way she bites her lip when she's scared. The way her fingers twist in front of her stomach. The way she won't break eye contact with me, even though I can see she wants to.
My brave little princess.
“Your fiancé,” I say slowly, knowing before I even say the words that she won't believe it, “has killed two women before you. You're in line to be the third.”
The color drains from her face, but she shakes her head. “I'm supposed to believe a kidnapper?” She shakes her head harder. “You're lying.”
“He had two women before you, lass. All young. All innocent. All with the same fucking profile.” I keep my voice flat, emotionless. Because if I let myself feel what I'm feeling right now, I'll lose control, and I won’t do that. “Fair skin. Dark-blue eyes. Brunettes. All dead within a year.”
“That's…” She shakes her head and backs up. “That's impossible. You’re wrong. He would never—”
“Marcus Crowning is a fucking psychopath. He gets off on hurting women, lass.”
“Says the man who fucking kidnapped me,” she says. “My god. How am I supposed to believe you?”
I knew this conversation would go nowhere. I draw in a breath and let it out, and that's when she sees her mobile on the end table.
“You took my phone.” Her voice rises. “What did you do with it?”
“That's none of your concern,” I tell her.
As soon as I had her here, I opened it. Of course she didn't have it fucking locked. She's too damn trusting. I sent a message to Marcus and a message to her mam. Tried my best to sound just like her.
I've decided I need a break before the ceremony. I hope you understand. I'm not going with you tonight. I'm going on a little bit of a trip by myself. Please give me the space that I need.
That'll buy us some time anyway—a week or so. Hopefully, by then, it'll be enough.
“What did you do?” she repeats.
I shake my head. “Marcus chose you because you're sweet and innocent. Because breaking something pure is what he likes.”
“Stop it.” She brings her hands up as if to cover her ears, but she's still bound at the wrists. “Stop it. Stop lying,” she says, insistent and stubborn, like a child who doesn't want to go to bed.
“I'm not lying, Bianca.”
“How do you know who I am? How do you know who Marcus is? My god.” She's shaking. “It's too much. This is too much. Am I hallucinating? Am I even awake right now? My god.”
“Alright, now let’s take things nice and slow. Breathe, love.”
She shakes her head, heat rising in her flushed cheeks. “You took me. And you're lying.”
“I'm not.”
“You are. You're trying to confuse me, to make me think—” She's crying now. My hardened heart breaks again. “You must be one of his enemies. Someone who has a problem with him, right? We're getting married. We're going to have a life together. And you, you're just some psychopath.”
“I saved you, Bianca. I know you don't understand right now. I know.” I put my hands in front of me as if to calm a wild animal. The words hang in the air between us. I didn't mean to say them out loud or to give that much away. But watching her defend the man who was going to destroy her—it's too fucking much.
She stares at me, tears falling. Confusion and fear war in her eyes.
“Listen.” I keep my tone soft, coaxing. “The sooner you accept this, the easier it will go.”
“That's probably what they all say,” she whispers.
“I told you. I've done everything to keep you safe.”
“By kidnapping me?” Her voice rises again. “By drugging me and taking me away from my life?”
“Lass, it was necessary.”
“Let me go home,” she whispers.
“No.”
“You can't keep me here.”
“I can.” I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth in it. “I will.”
“He'll come for me,” she says. “He'll find me, and he'll—”
“He might try,” I growl. The goddamn fucking pussy. When I get my hands on that motherfucker… “But he'll have to come through me.”
The certainty in my voice finally breaks through to her. I watch her face shift. Watch the reality of her situation sink in. She's trapped here with me, and there's nothing she can do about it.
“What do you want from me?” she says.
Everything. I want everything. I want her safe and happy and mine. I want to keep her in this cabin forever, where nothing can touch her. Where I can watch over her the way I've been doing for six years, but closer now. I want her to look at me without fear.
I want her to understand that I am not the enemy. Not hers, anyway.
But I can't tell her any of that.
“I want you safe,” I say. The simplest answer. “That's all.”