Page 69 of Colton
Panic flares in my chest, but I shove it down, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In and out.
Count. One, two, three.
As if on cue, I hear a door creak open. Heavy footsteps echo down the stairs.
A man appears in the doorway, tall and looming, his silhouette menacing in the dim light as he steps closer. His face is hidden, cloaked in shadow. But his voice—it slices through the room like a knife, cold and low, sending a jolt of vile recognition through my soul.
My heart lurches.
No. No, it can’t be?—
Xavier Blackwood.
“Mary, or should I say, Luella?” he says, almost a whisper. “Welcome back.”
My real name from his mouth feels like a scar reopened.
Luella.
The one name that reveals everything, the one name I’ve buried under false identities, under the facade of Mary, the dutiful housemaid who smiled through clenched teeth. That name is loaded, wrapped in chains of memories and blood and promises of revenge. He doesn’t deserve to say my name like a loaded weapon, the sick bastard.
“Aww,” he continues, his voice velvet-smooth, slippery as oil. “You’ve missed me.”
I struggle to rise to my feet to face the devil himself. The man I want to kill more than anything in the world. But my knees buckle before I can stand, my body too sluggish to cooperate. I choke on the bitter bile rising in my throat, the weight of his presence crushing every ounce of defiance I’ve been clinging to.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out who you are, Luella?” His voice is soft, mocking. “You came into my house, pretending to be someone else, but I’ve known from the start.” He steps closer, the weight of his presence crushing down on me.
His face inches from mine, the smell of whiskey and tobacco radiating from him, he’s savoring every moment of this. Every flicker of fear that dances across my features, every wince of pain as the bindings chafe against my wrists. He reaches out, a cold hand brushing my hair away from my face, and I flinch.
That only makes his smile widen.
I try to fight the wave of nausea rising within me, every muscle in my body screaming to lash out, to bite, to tear him apart. But I’m still too groggy, too weak. Not yet. My wrists burn where the ropes bite into my skin, but that pain is nothing compared to the fear lurking in the back of my mind—the fear that I’ll never get the chance to make him pay for what he did to Sophia.
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
“Let’s see… What was it you wanted, hmm?” His voice is syrupy now, drenching the room in menace. “Tell me, what did you want?”
“Fuck you.”
His chuckle is low, something that curls in the air like smoke, drawing tighter around me like a noose.
“Such fire. Just like Sophia.”
At her name, my vision explodes red. Memories surge in violent waves: Sophia’s bruised skin, her lifeless body, those men—this man—who took her, twisted her, shattered her. Sophia’s lifeless eyes flash in my mind—eyes once filled with warmth and laughter. Xavier’s men took that from her, stripped her down to nothing until she was just a broken body on a cold floor. And now, they want to do the same to me.
I lunge forward, my rage propelling me despite the bindings. But it’s futile. I collapse forward, my body smacking against the concrete ground, and Xavier laughs—a deep, cold rumble that cuts through my furious desperation.
Pain owns me as my body reacts to the ground, and I close my eyes, trying to breathe through it.
“Easy now,” he taunts, rising from his crouch. “Wouldn’t want you too broken before the fun starts.” He walks away casually, hands in his pockets as though I’m merely an afterthought. But I know the monster well enough to catch the subtle tension in his stride—to recognize the calculation behind his façade. He’s waiting. Waiting for me to speak, to beg, or lash out again. He feeds on fear and fight.
He's in luck. I’m not fucking afraid, and I’m ready to fight.
I swallow and focus. I look around, scanning the room for something, anything—a weapon, a weak spot, anything I can use.
The footsteps stop.
Xavier.
