Page 8 of Some Like it Violent

But as terrifying as he was, I clung to the fact that he hadn’t hurt me yet. If I kept calm, if I didn’t push him and obeyed, maybe I would survive this like he said. I was trapped with a criminal—a psychopath—who had nothing to lose and no reason to show mercy.

So, I’d play along. I’d be the good girl he wanted me to be.

Suddenly, with him out of the room, I heard rain pelting against the window, heard the wind howling through the cracks between the logs of this old cabin. The storm had come. And it looked like it wasn’t just ragingoutsideof my house.

Myhouse.

Myhome.

That small thought replaced some of the overpowering fear I felt the past several minutes with indignation.

This cabin was mine. All mine. And no one, not even a convicted killer, could take it from me.

Doing just as he said, I gathered myself, all right.

There would be a time, sometime during this situation, when I would gather not only my wits but also my strength, turn the tables, and fight back.

And maybe then, the emotionless psychopath himself would finally know what fear felt like.

5

EVELINA

Twenty minutes later, I still hadn’t gone downstairs, but the smell of sizzling food suddenly wafted up the stairs and into my bedroom. I’d been thinking about ways to escape.

Believe me, I sure as hell tried to come up with any way to get me out of this hellish situation.

But there were only three windows on the second story. One was in my bedroom and one in the second bedroom, both of which were painted shut, and the third being the tiny one in the bathroom, which was barely big enough for ventilation much less a full-grown woman’s body.

So, yeah… I was good and fucked.

Another inhale brought the scent of food, pulling me from the haze of dread that clung to me since I realized I was a hostage in my own home. I still sat on the edge of my bed staring at my fingers that I twisted together in my lap.

Since he left me alone, I’d gone on an emotional roller coaster and had been debating whether to stay hidden or face the man who turned my life upside down in mere minutes. But thefear of what he’d do if he had to come up here and “fetch” me finally scared me into action.

My stomach twisted with nerves and nausea, and the scent of whatever he was cooking only made the ache sharper.

Gathering all my strength, I forced myself off the bed and made my way downstairs, every step feeling heavier as I moved toward the first floor. I stepped off the last stair and rounded the corner. Once I got to the entryway of my little kitchen, I stopped and held my breath.

My kitchen was outdated—like the rest of my home—with the linoleum floor scratched and the countertop peeling. The cabinets were worn from years of use and were made of oak laminate.

Even my furniture was old and second hand.

Kane stood by the stove, his massive frame much too large for the space. His back was to me, but the way his shoulders tensed, I knew he was aware of my presence.

“Sit,” he ordered without looking at me. His voice was calm, but it was very clear there was no room for argument just like before.

I was unsure whether to obey or run back upstairs and lock the door, hoping it would hold until I could figure out what the fuck to do. But the idea of running from him, of defying him, sparked a flicker ofsomethingthat made my stomach clench hard.

And because I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t move, watching him do his task so fluidly it made that strangesomethingflicker inside me again.

He turned and faced me, a frying pan in his hand. He gestured toward my table, and it was then I realized it was set with other food littered the top of it.

He’d made breakfast… at night.

“Sit,” he said again, his eyes heavy and dark and trained on me.

My glimmer of defiance fizzled away as soon as it appeared, burning out like a match being blown out. I swallowed hard and sat at my small, weathered table, and I rested my hands in my lap to twist them together inside the bottom of my shirt.

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