Page 4 of Fire Island
I can’t respond.
We stand too close, breathing into each other in the dark. Lost between hopelessness and rage, I’m frozen. He searches my face with those pale eyes I have grown to hate.
This man I hate.
Heat slithers down my spine, and I shudder at the proximity.
He sniffs, tossing his head to the side before hauling me by the arm toward the spot where my bonds are tied down. He unlocks the chains, then releases them from the handcuffs.
Where he stole them from, who knows.
With the cuffs remaining on my wrists, T drags me from the generator room. Closing the door, he mutes the hum of the old machine as the light above us swings around and into the night.
The cool ocean breeze plays with my messy hair. I stand rigid, taking in the sight of the island I’ve been shut away from for days. The grassy area that meets the beach. The tree line marking the border of the forest I love. The shacks...
The—
Greenhouse.
A sob tangles in my throat, transforming into a boulder blocking my airway.
Cal.
Callum.
Above, the night’s dark blanket is studded with brilliant white stars. Their shimmering points unwavering. The moon, slowly rising in the east, is a giant orange pocked globe. She’s magnificent.
And Cal isn’t here to sit and watch her rise with me.
Cal isn’t here.
“Inside.” His voice breaks, as if the beauty of this place is a stark reminder of his black fucking heart.
Reluctantly, I move toward the front door. It’s hanging open. When I step over the threshold, what I find takes my breath away. Everything is trashed.
What the hell?
The furniture is turned over, books scattered over the floor. It’s like someone raided it, looking for something. Or had a monster meltdown.
“What happened?” I utter.
“Eyes on the stairwell,” T grinds out.
With his hand shoving me up the twisting treads, I take the steps one at a time. When I reach the first floor, I expect our room to look much the same as the living area. To my surprise, it’s untouched.
“You’ll be back in your bed soon enough, my precious girl,” T whispers, his hot breath hitting my neck. I wince, tugging forward in his grip.
“Not with you,” I hiss.
His grip tightens. “You’re mine, Butterfly. I have waited long enough. Been more than patient. You will give me what I want.”
We ascend the stairs to the lantern room. I focus on each tread to stave off the rising panic. When he leans past me and shoves the door open, I stop in my tracks.
Rough hands smack into my back, and I stagger into the once-pristine lantern room.
Now, the glass enclosure is boarded halfway up, only letting the beam skim over the top. Way past my head height. The lamp rotates blindingly, and I raise my hands to protect my face.
“I thought of smashing this old giant. To take the last piece of him in this place.” T glances at the light before it comes around.
