Page 29 of Bound to a Killer
“No, I won’t,” I answer, once I’ve caught my breath.
I’ve learned my lesson once already, and I’m not eager to repeat the same bone-chilling experience so soon. God only knows what other predators are lurking in the dark, disguised as help, waiting to snatch me. It turns out I prefer the devil I know to one I don’t. I might not know much about the man in front of me, but at least I know he wants to keep me alive; that’s more than I can say for the others. Shivers run down my spine at the memory of the SUV. The next time I blackout like that, I might not be so lucky to come out of it unharmed—or come out of it at all.
“Then there’s no need to,” he says with conviction, beforelowering his tone into a warning. “Just don’t give me a reason to hurt you, and I won’t.”
I nod against the lump that feels permanently lodged in my throat. My guard is still up, but I choose to silence them for now, and lean into his promise. Threats, warnings, and all. What choice do I even have left?
10
LEDGER
She’s spent most of the night thrashing like she’s being tortured by some night demon. Her breath keeps catching between the growing whimpers, making me second-guess whether she’s even asleep. But she never wakes. Not even when I hover over her, the floorboards creaking under my weight.
Some restful sleep she’s getting.
Guess that makes two of us.
Back on the couch, I watch every rise and fall of her chest. Whenever her whimpers pick up, she writhes like a victim of an ancient voodoo curse. I’m still surprised none of it stirs her awake.
Not that it matters.
Whether she stays asleep or not, there’s no way in hell I’m risking dozing off on the job again, even if the scare she got from her first attempt makes another escape unlikely.
Vibrations buzz through my jeans.
Suddenly, the room quiets. Whimpers gone.
Pushing to my feet, I stretch my legs and fix my gaze on herstill body, each slow heave of her chest measured. The corner of my lip tips up.
I cross over to stand at the foot of the bed. There’s a small shift in her breath, subtle, but I catch it immediately, just like everything else I catch about her.
Her eyes stay shut, so I let myself linger, studying the delicate lines of her doll-like features, the faint flush across her nose from the cabin’s chill.
Nothing too bad compared to before. Her frail arms are bent at her side, resting in the same position the rest of her body lays in.
She’s beautiful in the way a wounded kitten is, drawing adoration from afar, but quick to hiss if you get too close.
But her looks aren’t what pulls me in. It’s the way she carries herself, disheveled and brittle, yet hiding something beneath it all. Resilience.
She didn’t know it then, but we shared a silent understanding that morning, one only broken people like us can recognize.
Or, at least, that’s what I told myself. My own narrative, pushed onto her.
I was wrong, of course.
What would a spoiled rich girl like her know about real hardship?
All her problems pale in light of her current situation. Money and connections won’t buy her out of it this time.
Reaching into my back pocket, my fingers clamp around my phone. I snatch it out and check who the message is from.
Tanner: Call me as soon as you see this. I can’t hold off Frankie forever while you camp out there.
Then another text buzzes through.
Frankie: Why aren’t you answering???
Frankie: Hello? What’s going on? Where are you right now?
