Page 167 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Not yet, anyway.

There’s way too much shit I want to do.

I’ve just rekindled my relationship with my men, for starters.

Shit. The idea of spending eternity in hell without them sounds freaking boring. I’d have so much more fun with them. We’d probably rule the underworld.

Suddenly, the stillness in here is shattered by the creaking of the heavy metal door. My heart races as I press myself further into the corner, hoping to disappear into the shadows. The door swings open, revealing two black-masked figures wearing matching black combat wear. Their presence sends a shiver down my spine.

They move towards me with a silent, calculated precision, their every step muffled by the cold concrete floor. I can feel their eyes on me, even though their faces are concealed behind featureless masks.

“Time to go,” a voice echoes through a distorted modulator, devoid of any emotion.

My pulse quickens as I get up, my legs feeling like lead as I stumble toward the looming figures.

The guards flank either side of me, guiding us through a labyrinthine maze of sterile corridors and echoing hallways. The air is heavy with a metallic tang, and the distant hum of machinery accentuates the surreal nature of my surroundings.

The air ventilation system throughout this building strongly suggests that it may be an underground facility of some kind.

Dammit, this isn’t good.

Eventually, we reach a room bathed in an eerie red light, where a tall, dark figure awaits. My breath catches in my throat as the guards usher me forward, leaving me standing alone before their boss, who no longer hides behind his mask.

I’m staring straight into the real face of my kidnapper and the man responsible for the lifetime of trauma he instilled in me.

But the atmosphere thickens as I observe the person standing behind him.

Shock, hurt, and confusion suddenly fill me, and the world around me seems to blur as the magnitude of betrayal settles in. Echoes of disbelief reverberate in my mind, and tears well up fast. A mixture of pain and betrayal threatens to spill over.

My hands tremble as I grapple with the reality of the situation. I try to absorb the truth and wonder how I could have missed the signs.

Chapter 43

“What the fuck isgoing on?” I ask, taking control of the situation.

I won’t let them mentally beat me, and judging by the cocky look on this asshole’s face, that’s exactly what he’s counting on.

“Your dick got tired of raping women, so you moved onto easy, cheap trash like her?”

His imposing figure stands tall and broad. His face is unmasked but full of evil intentions, with sharp cheekbones that accentuate his familiar predatory dark eyes. They flicker the remorseless malice that lurks within himself. A cascade of jet-black hair frames his face, falling in disarray around pointed, angular features.

My abductor’s sinister smile is a macabre masterpiece, a cruel twist playing on his lips. The corners of his lips curl upward in a snarl, revealing teeth that seem sharper, more predatory. The vicious glint in his dark, almost black eyes intensifies as the smile plays across his lips, a chilling tableau of wicked satisfaction.

As our gaze meets, a shiver races down my spine, for in the depth of those shadowed eyes lay a familiarity I can’t deny. Despite the mask my kidnapper always wore in the past, those eyes bore a haunting memory etched into my consciousness that would terrorize me forever, reminding me of the horrors I had endured.

“Things will get a lot darker for you, Eden Rivers.” Each word drips with an eerie rhythm that seems to slither through the air like an unseen serpent.

Even his voice is dark. It's not deep and sexy. It’s haunting and ominous.

“No more mask or voice piece? Getting brave, asshole?”

But he’s not where my interest lies.

“Eden, I had no clue. I didn’t even realize it was him,” the familiar voice now feels like sharp nails dragging along a blackboard.

“Doeshehave a fucking name, now?” I ask, my voice fueled by ironic sarcasm.

There’s one thing I won’t show either of them.

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