Page 73 of The Puppetmaster

I have to check on her.

Jumping to my feet, I try to calm myself as I make my way up the stairs, too stubborn to hurry, even though I’d love nothing more than to run up to her if only to calm this harrowing chatter in my mind. But I’m determined not to let my inner unrest show, even when no one’s watching. Never.

I move slowly and cautiously, hardly making a noise as I walk through the door that opens into the entrance area of the house. The house is quiet, which is nothing unusual per se, but I still feel like the silence weighs heavily this time, shrouding the house like a dark cloud.

I want to tell myself that I’m imagining things, that I’m just driving myself crazy with an unwarranted suspicion. But I still proceed with cautious steps, my body tense and on alert when I approach the parlor where I last saw her sitting curled up with a book, like she usually is when I retreat for my workout.

But she’s not there. The door to the room is open, the blanket spread out on the sofa and the book right next to it, facedown on the cushions.

My first instinct is to yell for her, to bellow her name through the house until I see her standing in front of me, a docile smile on her pretty face that would reassure me that everything is fine and my suspicions were unwarranted.

But I remain quiet, instead following a noise that rarely echoes through these halls: meowing. The cat has never been very talkative, so the sheer succession with which it now chatters away is enough to lure me closer, the dreadful conjecture that’s been gnawing away at me growing to an unbearable level.

It doesn’t get better when I find the cat pacing up and down in front of my closed office door. It continues its incessant meowing, its eyes remaining latched on the locked door. It pauses for a moment, not minding my presence as it gets up on its hind legs and pushes its forepaws against the door, desperate to get inside. It’s never done this before. In fact, it’s never shown any interest in my office ever before.

My eyes whip up to the handle of the door, resting there as I try to figure out what’s going on. I don’t want to believe it at first, but deep down I know that there is only one answer that would explain the cat’s behavior.

I move forward determinedly, fuddling for the keys that I keep on me at all times. The cat jumps aside, releasing an irritated hiss at my sudden appearance as I slide the key into the lock with trembling fingers. Time moves excruciatingly slowly as I turn the key once, twice, finally opening the door after what seems like an eternity—only to find Alena sitting on the floor in the middle of my office, surrounded by papers and a tablet in her hand.

Tears are streaming down her cheeks when she looks up at me with a horrified expression on her face. She looks so hurt and terribly scared that the sight of it manages to silence the fury burning within me for just long enough to feel sorry for her. Her entire body is trembling and her face appears contorted in pain as she fights for words.

“What did you do?” she stutters under suppressed tears. “What the hell did you make me do?”

Chapter 45

Alena

This is the first time I’m actually afraid of him.

No, I’m not just afraid—I’m fucking terrified.

He doesn’t waste a second before charging at me, outrage consuming his expression as he grabs my arm to yank me up, causing the tablet to crash noisily to the floor. I stumble to my feet, trying to squirm free from his strong hold, even though I know the effort is futile.

“What are you doing in here?!” he rages at me, hot panic threading through his voice. “How the hell did you get in here?”

He drags me through the room, completely unfazed by my ridiculous flailing motions.

“You’re a monster!” I shriek under tears. “What did you make me do?! How could you!”

He ignores my screeching and pulls me through the living area, passing by the open kitchen and heading toward the stairs. My terror grows with every foot we get closer to the stairs, closer to the second floor, closer to the bedroom where I know there’s no escape for me.

“NO!”

My cry echoes through the house, leaving a sting in my own ears and causing him to turn around to glare at me furiously.

“Shut up!” he roars even louder, unable to evade my attack in time as I lay into him, landing a proper hit with my fist against his cheekbone.

He may be taller, he may be stronger—but so was the guy back then. The guy who I thrashed senseless into a coma.

Raad is so stunned that he lets go of me for just a split second, tumbling backward and I manage to free myself from his hold.

I run away from him, but I’m stupid enough to head for the front entrance. The locked door stops my escape, which sends me right back into his arms. This time he’s not stupid enough to allow my fist to act freely. Instead, he grabs me by the wrists, crossing my arms in front of my chest and pulling them closely around my body, as if I were hugging myself.

I’m twisting and turning, trying as best I can to break free, but he has me in a tight grip this time, securing my arms firmly around my body by using the leather strings. They are long enough to be snaked around my upper body twice, before he secures them in an unyielding knot at my back so that I’m restrained like I am in a straitjacket.

I can’t move my arms and am entirely at his mercy when he picks me up, now easily containing me in his arms even as I fight and squirm in his rigid embrace, and he carries me up the stairs.

I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I was about to fall in love with this monster.

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