Page 20 of Oblivion

Me

Keep observing. Let me know ASAP if anything changes and pursue if she leaves the house.

Team 3

Yes, sir.

Sebastian had a security team put in place to follow Sammy after she and Starling swapped clothes and tricked Starling’s security team into believing Sammy was her. Sebastian lost his shit and turned on the tracker in Starling’s neck so he could find her. After that, he hired a second team, and Sammy’s movements have been tracked and monitored almost as rigorously as Starling’s have been ever since.

Oddly, instead of being angry, both Starling and Sammy loved that Bastian was crazy enough to have a team of armed guards follow his wife’s friend around. They took his craziness as a gesture that he’d accepted Sammy as part of the family.

More than once, I’ve considered having a tracker fitted in Sammy. To others, it might seem like madness, but after multiple kidnap attempts when we were kids, all of us had them fitted as a safety measure. Both Sebastian and Clay had trackers put in their wives without their consent, but Bunny was awake and aware when hers was installed before they got married.

I’m sure that if Sammy didn’t have a permanent security team, I’d have probably gone to more extreme measures to keep track of her, but considering I never intended to actually make her mine, putting something into her body felt like an overstep even my crazy ass couldn’t justify.

Since the time we met, I’ve watched her date, watched her dance and flirt and even kiss other men, and I’ve considered it my penance for all of my bad behavior. I’ve never deserved her and never will, but today changed everything.

When the victim of your devious, ruthless actions offers you forgiveness in exchange for becoming the monster she’s always loathed, that does something to a person. The women in our family all know who me and my brothers are. Starling, January, and Bunny have all fallen victim to our crazy brand of love. They’ve all experienced the obsession, manipulation, control, and coercion we hide beneath our feelings, and yet they still encouraged me to pursue their friend.

I don’t know if that makes me or them the craziest, but either way, it flipped a switch, and here I am, doing the very thing that I swore I never would. Now that I’ve truly acknowledged my feelings, there’s no shoving them back in the box. I’m Sammy’s completely now, and unless she can convince me that what she and Drew share is a life-altering—she’ll die without him—love, then I’ll be making her mine.

By the time I land in DC, my mind is clear and focused. In the past eighteen months, I’ve had plenty of time to fantasize about all the things I’d do to make this woman mine. But I dismissed them all because every single thing I considered was too insane, too psycho to ever actually do, and yet here I am in her city with carte blanche to do whatever it takes to make her mine and bring her home.

That kind of freedom is addictive, and it was almost too easy to set a plan into motion and decide exactly how I’m going to get my girl. Over the last eighteen months, I’ve learned from my friends. I’ve watched them smash their way into their women’s lives. I’ve watched them scorch the earth around them until it was just the two of them and zero other options. What my brothers did might have been effective in the short term, but their actions have had longer implications that I don’t want to have to deal with.

Starling, January, and Bunny all have scars and trauma from my friends’ brand of love, and I don’t want Sammy to bear thosescars. So, instead of locking her in a cage, I’m going to slowly bind her in silk ropes so fine she won’t feel or see them until she’s completely bound to me. I’m going to take her inch by inch, luring her into a web that she’ll never notice. I’m going to bind her wild spirit without taming it.

The car I arranged is waiting for me at the airport with the keys already sitting in the cup holder. Dropping my bag onto the seat beside me, I press the start button and pull away from the curb, heading downtown to meet my contact.

Four hours later, the sun is slowly starting to rise in the sky as I silently climb the stairs, open the door, and step into Sammy’s bedroom. She’s asleep, her dark hair spread out over her pillow as she sleeps peacefully, curled onto her side, with her hand beneath her cheek.

Even though I want to, I don’t peel back the covers or touch her. My hands are desperate to claim her, but there’s still work to do until I can fully make her mine.

Tonight isn’t about shock and awe claiming. Being here is about fastening the first invisible knot around her. Careful not to disturb her, I step around her bed until I’m kneeling on the floor facing her back. Taking the small leather case from my pocket, I place it carefully on the floor beside me.

Slipping out the needle that’s already full of the ketamine that will ensure she stays asleep, I uncap the needle and position it over her neck, slowly inching it toward her skin until the tip is grazing her flesh. This is my last opportunity to stop this. I could walk away and let her have her freedom, let her walk the path she chose for herself when she accepted that guy’s proposal.

I could do that, but instead, I push forward, plunging the needle into her neck and depressing the ketamine into her body, watching as her eyes flash open, then immediately close, the drug rendering her unconscious.

According to the doctor who gave me the syringe, the dose was only big enough to keep her asleep for a maximum of twenty minutes. It’s not long, but more than long enough. Recapping the needle, I slip it back into the case and take out the second prepared needle I have waiting.

Carefully turning her head, I part her hair, pinch the skin on her scalp two inches above her ear, and inject a tracker into her. Quickly withdrawing the needle, I lean over her and press my lips to the spot, trying to kiss away the pain I know she’d have felt if she’d been awake.

Recapping the needle, I push it back into the case, swapping it for another identical one. As carefully as I can, I peel her covers down, then push her pajama top up until I can see the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Pinching the skin in a place I know she won’t ever be able to reach, I inject a second tracker into her body. Recapping the needle, I add it to the case and pull out the next needle I have stored. Instead of covering her back up again, I press a kiss to the spot between her shoulders, then pull the covers completely off her until the long, bare expanse of her legs is revealed. Unable to resist, I run my fingertip the full length of her leg until I reach her ankle. Pinching the skin beneath the bone, I ease the needle into her skin and inject a third tracker into her body.

The moment I’m done, I exhale a relieved sigh. After putting the needle back into the case, I grab the tiny wand scanner from the kit and quickly scan each of the spots on her body, making sure that the trackers are in place and all working.

Once I’m happy that they’re all okay, I quickly check my watch, then grab the strand of fine gold chain and the smallportable soldering iron from my other pocket. Fastening it around her ankle, I use pliers to attach a tiny padlock-shaped charm that, once locked, can’t be opened. Then I solder the chain links together, fusing the metal and ensuring that the only way to remove the chain is to physically cut it off.

I check my watch again. It’s been fifteen minutes since I injected her, and soon the effects of the drugs will start to wear off. I don’t know if she’ll wake up immediately or if she’ll fall back into a natural sleep once the chemical-induced unconsciousness has faded, but I need to be gone before she has a chance to see me.

Grabbing the final prepared needle from my case, I push it into her skin and depress the painkiller into her arm. Inserting the trackers can be painful, and the painkiller will mean that by the time it wears off, she’ll hopefully have chalked up her moment of wakefulness to a dream rather than reality.

Of course, once she sees the chain around her ankle, she’ll know I’ve been here, but that’s okay. I want her to know I’m watching.

Reluctantly putting all of my supplies back into my pocket, I drag the covers back over her again, then take a moment to stare down at her. She’s so fucking beautiful, and even if she doesn’t realize it yet, she’s all fucking mine.

13

---