Page 61 of Colton
What the hell?
Colton’s nowhere to be seen, but the locked door tells me I’m still his prisoner. Fragments of erotic dreams featuring him flicker through my mind, making my cheeks burn. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog.
Is that why I’m aching down there? Craving that sick fuck?
I stumble to the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. As I soap up, my body feels hypersensitive, almost needy.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
This is Colton we’re talking about—the guy who’s keeping me captive, who’s hurt me. But my traitorous body doesn’t seem to care, tingling at the mere thought of his touch.
Disgusted with myself, I turn off the water and step out. That’s when I hear the door open.
“Luella,” Colton calls out, his voice oddly flat. I peek around the bathroom door to see him setting a tray on the bed. The smell of food hits me, and my stomach growls loudly. “Eat.”
I dry off quickly, throwing on whatever clothes I can find, and make a beeline for the bed. It’s just canned soup and bread, but right now it might as well be a five-star meal. I dig in, barely acknowledging Colton as he watches me wolf it down.
When I finish, he takes the bowl without a word. It’s only then that I notice he’s left the bedroom door wide open. My heart races.
Is this a test? A trap?
I dress fully, my mind whirling with possibilities. Then, cautiously, I step into the hallway. I find Colton in the living room, pacing. He looks up when I enter, his face etched with worry.
“What?” I ask, unnerved by his expression.
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that’s becoming familiar. “My father called,” he says, his voice tight.
My blood turns to ice. Xavier. The man I came here to kill. The monster who destroyed my sister.
Colton’s grimace deepens. “He said he knows where we are.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stumble back, gripping the doorframe for support. “How?” I manage to croak out.
Colton shakes his head. “I don’t know. But if he’s coming...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. We both know what Xavier is capable of.
I look at Colton, really look at him. For the first time, I see genuine fear in his eyes. It’s a harsh reminder that as fucked up as Colton is, his father is so much worse.
“What do we do?” I question, hating how small my voice sounds.
Colton’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flash of something—determination, maybe even protectiveness. “We leave,” he replies firmly. “We leave in ten minutes.”
As he turns to go, a thought strikes me. “Wait,” I call out. He pauses, looking back. “Why are you helping me? Why not just hand me over to him?”
His expression darkens. “Because you’re mine,” he states, his voice low and intense. “And I’m not letting him take you from me.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving me to wrestle with a cocktail of emotions: fear, confusion, and something else I can’t quite name. As I start gathering what little I have, one thought echoes in my mind.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I stand there for a moment, frozen, as Colton’s words echo in my mind.“You’re mine.”The possessiveness in his voice should repulse me, but instead, it sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I shake my head, trying to clear it. This isn’t the time for whatever twisted Stockholm syndrome bullshit is going on in my head.
Focus, Luella. This is your chance.
I move quickly, gathering what little I have. My mind races, trying to formulate a plan. Escaping Colton is one thing, but now that Xavier’s in the mix? It’s like choosing between the devil and the angry blue sea.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me looks haunted, desperate. But there’s still a fire in her eyes that I recognize. The same fire that burned when I killed my father. The fire of survival.
