Page 30 of Catching His Runaway

I shouldn’t care how Valeria would react if she smells blood on me.

More reason to keep going down until I reach matching concrete floors. Once I push through the one last door separating the peaceful life that passes each day, and the cruel reality of what happens behind the curtains to maintain control, I head deeper inside.

One room is my own. None dare to touch it or go near, knowing what has taken place. Some scurry past; some look in awe. I became the best at getting information because each man I killed left me losing another piece of humanity.

I don’t worry about who will suffer because of a death. I don’t care about the tears or the pleas for one’s life. I don’t pity those who have wronged us. I don’t feel for any of those who betrayed this family’s trust.

Valeria can’t be the outlier. She can’t make my cock thicken by just the thought of her, and then stab me in the chest by talking about the outcome I’ve promised.

Moving through a musty hall, I head straight to my room. Pushing through the door, I can hear a distant whimper and sob. Probably another dealer who got caught on our grounds. Or, possibly a rat who gave away details to the wrong man. So many possibilities, I don’t bother to care. The pained sounds have turned into white noise, and I’ve mastered blocking them out.

Right now, something far bigger plagues my mind. The damage one person can do when she’s discovered how to get into my head.

Moving toward the bare chair in the middle of the room, I graze my fingers against the stained leather straps used to hold down wrists. The holes in the loops are worn down from all the yanking and pulling, and I wish I could recount how many people I’ve had sit in this chair alone over the years. Too many faces that are nothing but a blur, all their words ringing the same.

They won’t wrong us again. They want another chance. They’re sorry.

Valeria isn’t like them. She’s made it clear from the start. She’s not sorry for leaving. If she had another chance to relive all those years ago, she wouldn’t change a thing.

So, why don’t I put her in this chair? Why don’t I make her sorry?

There’s someone I want to put in this chair more than her. Elijah Sutton. My body screams to find him and take all my anger out on him instead of her. Even though we’ve never crossed paths before, and I don’t know a damn thing about him, I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him badly.

That’s the cost of letting Valeria get in my head. She’s no longer at the top of my list. Fuck, I don’t even know if she’s on the list anymore.

Moving my eyes over to the metal platter with all my tools, I pick up a scalpel and pinch it between my thumb and fingers. Despite its usage, I’ve taken good care of my tools by making sure they all remain as sharp as the day I received them.

Closing my eyes, I try to picture the scene I originally wanted to play out the day I found her snooping on the estate grounds. I wanted her in my chair, strapped down and defenseless. Apologetic and pleading to be forgiven.

Instead of fantasizing about her pleading my name, I’m remembering the way it came out breathlessly last night. The same way it’s haunted me since.

My cock doesn’t know the damn difference. Permanently stiff, there’s only one way to seek relief, and Ican’t.

Dropping the scalpel, I scowl below at my tools. My once method of relief now taunts me.

Turning away, I don’t bother letting the lure of someone else’s methods of questioning lead me deeper into the dark concrete path. Instead, I leave and head back to the one place I’ve always escaped to whenever I needed a clear mind.

The gardens.

Camellia or Eliza’s arrival didn’t make this place. While it might have grown more flourish over the years, this area of escape has been a thing since I first arrived on the grounds. Leon gave me a small tour, showing me that this life isn’t entirely sharp. There is the possibility of peace if we search for it.

Valeria loved the garden. She’d tease me with the idea of leaving every time she dragged me out here, forcing me to chase her between the bushes. I had to be the one to patch up her skin whenever she got caught on thorns. Sometimes, she’d force me to sit down next to her simply to get fresh air in her system.

Old habits die hard, I suppose. Even without her by my side, I find myself out here whenever I need a break from it all.

The stone bench feels cool when I settle against it. Leaning back, I take in the colors of flowers that are drawing in all sorts of insects. It’s quiet out here, giving my thoughts the perfect opportunity to ring loud in my head.

Despite the peace not coming immediately, I don’t move. Like I’m desperate for a little tranquility, my stubbornness keeps me from heading back inside.

For years, Valeria plagued my mind. I don’t even know if I’d gone a day without letting her pass my thoughts at least once. I’m not used to the constant weight of my grudge weighing me down.

“Great weather out today,” a voice comes from behind. I don’t have to look to know it’s Urzo. His steps are heavy as he moves around to join me. Rather than sit down, he stands with his arms crossed. For once, his wife isn’t soaking up his side. “Might enjoy a ride today.”

I don’t know why he’s telling me about his plans. He’s not the type to ask for company, and I don’t own a bike.

He’s disrupting my peace the longer he stands near, waiting.

“I can’t go out on a long-distance trip with Eliza, so I was hoping to ask for other company,” he continues, his impatience seeping through.

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