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)
He doesn't respond immediately, just begins wrapping my ankle with practiced efficiency. His touch is surprisingly gentle despite the anger simmering in those cold gray eyes.
“I told you,” he says finally, securing the bandage before looking up at me. “I took you to keep you safe. He’ll kill you, Bianca.”
I go still. “You're lying.”
He shakes his head, his expression grim. “That man you're so desperate to go back to. He took two women, got what he wanted, then murdered them within a year.”
“That makes no sense.” My voice shakes. “I don't have anything he wants.”
“Don't you?” His eyes bore into mine. “You sure about that, lass?”
“You're lying. You have to be. You're just trying to manipulate me, trying to make me scared so I'll—”
“So you'll what?” He stands, towering over me, and despite myself, I shrink back into the couch. “Stay here willingly? Trust me?”
“No. I—”
“I don't need you to do either of those things, lass.” His voice is low, intense. “I need you here. Alive. That's all.”
“I don't believe you.”
He stares at me for a moment, then pulls his phone from his pocket. “Aye, I know. That much is obvious.” There’s something raw in his eyes, like barely contained frustration. My chest tightens for reasons I don’t understand. “Let me show you.”
“Show me what?” My heart is already hammering against my rib cage.
He swipes through his phone, frowning, then turns it toward me. “Sarah Donnelly. Twenty-one years old.”
The photo on the screen makes my blood run cold. A young woman stares back at me with dark eyes… just like mine. Her hair is long and nearly black, falling in waves around a face that’s pale as porcelain. Red lips, delicate features. She looks like… she looks like me.
“Crowning’s ex.” He swipes to another photo, this time a news article with the headline:
Missing Woman
Emma Walsh disappeared on a run one day. Dated Crowning eight months before she left a suicide note. But sources say she was happy, that she gave no indication of depression, or wanting to end her life…”
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. These women could be… sisters. Or triplets, my triplets.
“No,” I whisper, trembling. “This isn’t him. He told me he always dated blondes in the past, but that I was special. Different.”
“Aye, you’re special, lass. But not because you’re different from his type.”
I look up at him, at his scarred knuckles and the tattoos snaking up his arms.
“But you’ve been following me!” Panic threads through every syllable. “You’re the one with photos of women who look just like me. Women who disappeared. Who died.”
“Bianca—”
“Oh god.”
I’m standing now, backing away from him, even though there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. “Maybe Marcus isn’t the one with a type. Maybe it’s you.”
“That’s not—”
“Marcus dates tall, skinny blondes! That’s what he told me! And now you’re showing me photos of women who look just like me. I’m next, aren’t I? Your next victim. That’s why I’m here. That’s why you took me.”
My whole body is shaking.
“No! God, no. Bianca, that’s not—”
“Then why do they look like me?” I’m crying now, tears streaming down my face. “Why do they all have my face if you’re not—”
“Because they look like you! Don’t you see?” His voice matches mine. “You’re the pattern. You’re the one he wants. And you’ll end up dead, just like them.”
I slide to the floor, my knees pulled up to my chest.
“Crowning fuckin’ lied.” He crouches in front of me but doesn’t touch me. “They hid the evidence.”
I don't want to believe him. I want to cling to my certainty that he’s the monster here…
“Look at me, lass.” He doesn’t move any closer, even though he looks like he wants to. “Have I hurt you? Since the moment I took you, have I laid a hand on you in anger?”
“You’re holding me prisoner.”
“Aye. To keep you safe from him, but not from me. Never from me.”
I drop my head to my knees, my fingers tangling in my hair.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I whisper.
“Believe that you’re safe,” he whispers back. “Believe that I’ll protect you.”
He reaches down and grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes along my jaw, a gesture that's somehow both gentle and possessive.
“And believe that running won’t end well for you.”
I blink. “What?”
“You need to understand something.” His voice is quiet now, deadly serious. “You pull a stunt like this again, and the consequences will be far worse than what you’ve already got coming.”
My pulse jumps. “Are you threatening me? You just said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I'm promising you.” His thumb traces my jaw again, and I hate that my skin tingles where he touches me. “You scared me tonight, Bianca. Scared me badly. And I do not like being scared.” A beat passes. “And you need to learn a lesson about running away.”