Page 27 of Trapped

Silas made two very big mistakes. The first was trusting me enough to remove the handcuffs. The second was leaving a gun on the nightside table beside me. I toss and turn, trying to makea plan of escape. I’m not sure where I will go. I don’t know how to drive. Yes, I, Thalia Consuelo, have no idea how to operate a vehicle. Don’t fucking judge me. I’ve always had some type of chauffeur. I also live where I work.

I settle on a plan to escape through the forest I saw at the back of the house. I could run that way, then offer money to the first driver to stop and help me. Slowly, I push down the covers and slide out. I grab the gun and tiptoe toward his side of the bed. I will need his phone if I am going to make a run for it. I look down to see his chest rise and fall. Nostalgia tries to tug on my heart, but I push it away. This man is my fucking enemy.

Silas’s resurrection will cause more problems than my own heartbreak. If he hasn’t already discovered our child, then there is a possibility he will, eventually. I grab his phone and wallet from the top of his dresser. I take some jewelry, too, while I’m at it, cause why the fuck not? I open the wallet but stop when a folded photograph falls from it. The same photo that I had saved beneath my mattress. In my stunned silence, I drop the phone and tense at the loud thud.Hijo de su chingada madre.

“What are you doing?” he says, sitting up.

Panic fills my body. I turn quickly and aim the gun at his head. I cock it, and his eyes readjust to his surroundings. Anger doesn’t rear its head, but instead, something more deranged. A wicked smirk forms on his face as he slowly steps toward me. I move backward, and he follows.

“Don’t move, or I swear to God, I’ll shoot you,” I warn.

“Good. Death is the only way you’ll be able to escape me.”

He inches closer, and I close my eyes. I squeeze my index finger the way I’ve done a thousand times. I wait for that familiar high-pitched sound, but it never comes. When I look up, Silas is still standing there, smiling. I pull the trigger again and… nothing.

Silas launches toward me, and my bare feet hit the floor. I run down the steps and out the back door. It was a test. The unloaded gun was a test, and I failed. He will kill me. My feet hit the wet grass, and I slip but pull myself back up. His footsteps sound behind me, but fear drives me forward.

My strides lead me to rows upon rows of headstones. Some are small with minimal writing, while others are colorful and massive. I slow my steps and hide behind a large stone that resembles a small church. A large steeple triples me in size. I wait for my breathing to calm as I look behind me. The graveyard stretches for miles, disappearing into the dark woods.

I calm my breathing and try desperately to activate that fight mode I need to outrun him. I have no weapons, no army of men behind me, and I am not playing on my own turf. The odds are against me.

“Come out, bruja. I can hear you breathing.” I hear him, but I don’t see him.

My heartbeat accelerates, and I force my legs to take advantage of the adrenaline coursing through me. I take off running, but strong hands pull me back, and an arm wraps around my neck. Silas’s hard chest meets my back, and I cry out in defeat.

“Quieta.”Don’t move,he whispers into my ear. Gunsmoke and sandalwood fill my nostrils as his hard dick pushes into my back. The feeling of his naked chest against my bare skin causes me to tremble. Blood rushes to my core, and I can feel my nipples tighten under the lace bra.

“Shhhhhh.” The heat of his whisper sends another shiver down my spine. He slowly drags the barrel of a pistol up my thigh and over my arm, settling at my temple.

“Look around you, bruja. Can you summon the dead to help you? Or will you join them in the afterlife tonight?” He releases me with a push, and I stumble on the wet grass. I crawl forward,but he catches my ankle and drags me to him. I cry out, but he’s too strong. He moves quickly and locks me in place with his knees.

“Since you like playing games so much, why don’t we play another one?” His voice is low, but his eyes only reflect pure sadism. Shadows parade around us, and I close my eyes, waiting for my heart to explode in my chest. I can only imagine how pathetic I look to the ghosts haunting this graveyard.

“We’ve only just begun, bruja. You will submit to me.” His threat does the opposite of what I expect. Heat radiates through my body and settles at my core.

“Submit to you how?” I don’t recognize my own shaky voice.

“No more trying to kill me. Admit that you always have been and always will be mine.” He drags the pistol over my thighs and slowly grazes my folds with the muzzle.

“And if I don’t?” I challenge.

“Then I shoot.” I slap him hard across the face, and he laughs. He grabs my wrists and slams them above my head. He pushes all his weight on top of me. His tight grip pins my wrists to the wet grass and the other points the gun to my chest. Slowly, he begins to count.

“One… two… three.”

My eyes squeeze shut and I cry out. The gunfire sings out in the dead of night, and I lie paralyzed on the ground, waiting for pain to flood through my body. Waiting for the blood to gush out of me. But nothing happens. I open my eyes and look up at the cruel smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His hand holds the gun above me, aimed toward the woods behind me.

“Practice shot.” He shrugs.

“¡Hijo de tu perra madre!Let me go!” I break one of my hands free and let my fist fly toward him. I might as well be hitting a brick wall. His vindictive laugh only courses through me like red hot lava, filling me with rage, as he grabs my free hand andbinds my wrist back together, tightening his grip. His right hand and gun come back to my chest. He slides it down my abdomen. The touch is light and cold. My pussy throbs with anticipation. Slowly, he trails further down until he reaches that desperate throbbing.

He rips my tights, and I let out a cry. He pushes through my folds and inserts the barrel roughly.

My body goes rigid when I feel him slide the barrel in. My back arches the farther he pushes it in. I look down and watch the gun disappearing in and out of me. My legs fall to the sides, desperate to feel the friction between them.

He removes the gun and uses the muzzle to draw lazy circles around my clit. I moan at the intense pleasure. Frustration builds when I feel the absence of the gun on me. I look up and find his eyes don’t leave mine as he releases me. My wrists fall free, and my eyes plead.Don’t stop. My arousal glistens off the long barrel of his Smith and Wesson. Slowly, he brings it to his mouth, then glides his tongue up the side. Nothing holds me back, and yet I can’t move. I’m caught in a trance at the sight of him.

“Who do you belong to, Thalia?” He places the muzzle back at my entrance. I shake my head, and he cocks the gun.

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