Page 23 of Madness & Mercy

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I should be repulsed. Furious. Anything but this… hunger.

But even now, I feel it coiled low in my belly.

This thing I don’t want to name.

This fixation I can’t kill.

I rinse off, run a hand through my hair, and step out into the fogged-up bathroom, trying to shake the sound of his voice, but it lingers in my head.

And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to wash him off.

This is infuriating.

My plan was simple: get close. Win his trust. Slit his throat.

Easy.

But I didn’t account forthis.

This sick, gnawing thing crawling under my skin.

This heat. This hunger. This—fuck, whatever it is—that’s eating me alive.

He locked me in here. Took my phone. Cut me off.

Left me stewing in silk sheets and luxury like I’m some pampered prisoner.

And I let him.

Fuck. That.

I pace the room, fists clenched, pulse hammering in my throat. I can’t let this spiral. Can’t let him gain the upper hand.

But every second I spend here, caged and stripped of control, hewins.

There has to be a way out, right? Therehasto be.

I just have to find it…before I lose myself entirely.

I tear through the room like there’s something I missed. A panel. A button. A flaw in the design.

Nothing.

The windows are reinforced. Bulletproof, no doubt. The lock on the door’s electronic, custom, no handle on my side. The vents are too small for me to fit through. I even check the floorboards like some kind of maniac.

Still nothing.

Who builds a room this airtight?

Oh, right.A fucking mob boss.

I press a hand to the wall, sweat beading at my temple. This is worse than prison. At least there you knew the rules.

Here? He makes them up as he goes.

Out of options and out of control, I stalk to the desk and flip open the laptop.

The message window’s already open.

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