Page 30 of Hunted Vengeance

“Not if I follow his demands.”

There it is. I know the truth of it now, at least as much as I can at the moment. Colette looks terrified. I know the expression because I have worn it myself. I’ve seen my reflection in the mirror a million times over the years.

But I also know that I can’t take her with me right now. “Are you okay to be here alone?”

Her already deflated demeanor shrinks even more. She thinks I’m leaving her for good. Maybe I should, but she’s my wife. That sadness she wears speaks to me. It consumes me the same way her smile does.

I cannot just leave her to be consumed by the predators.

It’s me who should be protecting her from all of them.

Every single fucking one.

COLETTE

Merrick leavesme alone in my packing, and I’m filled with sadness, knowing that I’ll never see him again. Husband or not, our relationship is over, and our status as husband and wife will cease to exist soon.

I don’t know what’s inside of his head, but it’s not me, and that fact tells me everything I need to know. He wanted one last time, and now he’s going to move on, just like I’m being forced to do.

I should give him credit, though. He asked me to come with him, and that should feel beautiful. Right before he left, he kissed me, but the faraway look in his eyes was enough to make any woman second-guess every part of her.

Tying my robe’s belt tightly, I knot it before I continue going about my business. I gather everything I love, leaving the things that Marina or someone else picked out for me in the closet.

I’m sure it’s the wrong move, but I don’t really care. I never want to see them again. I also hope I can burn the wedding dress after I peel it from my body, too. It’s not for me, it’s not me, just like the man I’m going to vow my life to, and I don’t ever want to see it again. I can’t burn the man, so I might as well get to burn the dress.

Once I’m finished, I glance over to the window. It’s still open from Merrick slipping out earlier. Walking over to it, I look around outside, trying to find him somewhere, anywhere.

He’s not there.

He’s notanywhere.

Reaching up, I curl my fingers around the edge of the bottom of the window and tug it down before locking it into place. I won’t be here long enough for him to come back here anyway.

Turning my back to the now-locked window, I walk over to my bag and zip it up before wrapping my fingers around the handle and dragging it to the floor.

I wheel it next to my door, then root around on the floor of my closet to find the small bag so I can pack up my toiletries. I don’t know if I’ll even have a shower to wash my hair in wherever I end up. I imagine being locked inside a basement or something only to be taken out when needed.

It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. I’ve been given zero information on what’s going to happen to me.

The unknown.

The way it consumes my entire body…

It’s terrifying.

So, doing the only thing I can think of right now. I twist the knob on the shower and turn it all the way over to hot—scalding. I’m going to take a long, hot shower, wash my hair, and perhaps try to feel somewhat normal for a moment or two.

Though I doubt that’s possible.

I’ll never feel normal again.

Not a single part of me.

I’m the daughter of Adriano Bellucci. Normal does not exist for me. I’ve never been to school, never even gone to the movie theater. I’ve never ordered myself a Starbucks, just to name a few.

I’ve watched other people do those things on social media through my fake accounts, but I’ve never actually done them myself. I’ve lived vicariously through the whole world from high above in my tower.

After my hair is washed and my shower is finished, I crawl into bed again. Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling. I’m not quite sure how long I lie there before there is a loud knock on my door.

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