Page 45 of No Mercy
“Let’s do this.”
With a steadying exhale, I turn away from the mirror and head downstairs, each step carrying me closer to whatever this twisted fairy tale has in store.
The second I step outside, the cold air nips at my skin, chasing away the warmth of the house. My eyes immediately land on the bike parked just behind my car and the man sprawled across it like he’s posing for a magazine cover. His legs are propped up on the handlebars, fingers drumming lazily against the body of the bike.
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me at the sight. But as I approach, his fingers still, and I know he’s noticed me. My heart flutters with a mix of nerves and excitement, but his stillness makes me second-guess everything. Did I wear the wrong thing? Did he change his mind?
I hate that damn mask. If I could just see his face, I might have some clue as to what’s running through his head. Instead, I rub my thumb against my nail, trying to ease the anxiety twisting in my stomach.
When I finally reach him, we just stare at each other, waiting for someone to speak first. My voice seems to have taken a vacation, leaving me to wrestle with the awkward silence. Maybe I should’ve held that superhero pose longer because I sure don’t feel like one now.
Just when I’m about to give up and blurt something out, he sits up straight on the bike and clears his throat.
“You look… breathtaking.”
The words hit me like a soft punch to the gut, sending a flutter through my stomach. There’s something in the way he says it, like he means every syllable.
Before I can respond, he reaches into a bag and pulls out a mask. It’s similar to his, but instead of red, it’s a vibrant orange. He holds it out to me without a word.
“And who’s that for?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move. He just waits, his patience daring me to take it.
I reach out slowly, taking the mask from him. “Are you trying to say I’m breathtakingly ugly?”
The words barely leave my mouth before he’s spluttering, clearly caught off guard.
“No, not, no, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all, it’s just?—”
I lose it. Laughter bursts out of me, shaking away the nerves and tension. His flustered reaction is too good to let go.
When I finally calm down, I step closer, throwing him a playful wink. “Gotcha.”
I slip the mask over my face, feeling an unexpected surge of confidence. It’s not just a cover; it’s a transformation, like I’ve stepped into someone braver, bolder.
Stopping beside him, I mimic his earlier pose, tilting my head just enough to catch his gaze. “Now we’re matching. Cute.”
Taking my time, I climb onto the back of the bike, a first for me. My arms hesitantly slip around his waist, and I’m startled to feel his body tense at my touch. It’s subtle, but I catch it.
Good. At least he’s not as composed as he wants me to believe.
The bike rumbles to life beneath us, sending vibrations through my body.
“No helmets?” I shout over the noise.
He shakes his head. “Normally, yes. But we’re not going far. Hold on tight, buttercup!”
I tighten my grip as he pulls out of the driveway, the first thrust of speed stealing the breath from my lungs. Fear prickles at my skin, but it doesn’t last long. The wind rushing against my face, the hum of the bike—it’s exhilarating. Every sharp turn feels like we’re skirting the edge of danger, and I love it.
Before I know it, we’re pulling onto a dirt road surrounded by trees painted in fiery shades of orange and yellow. The beauty of it steals my breath again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
He stops the bike near the tree line, and I take a moment to steady myself as I climb off. My legs wobble, nearly giving out beneath me. Instinctively, I grab his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says, laughing softly.
Once the tingling fades, I push off him, still staying close, just in case. But something catches my attention.
The sound of a bag unzipping.
I turn, my stomach dropping when I see what he’s pulling out, a length of fucking rope.
