Page 7 of Cedar Edge
Royce: little doll…. Come home now.
Royce: Why can’t you see how much I love you? I’ve done nothing but take care of you. And this is how you repay me?
Royce: This hunt will be so much fun.
Panic crawls up my spine again, the feeling seemingly a permanent resident in my body. And an unhelpful one when I’m trying to keep my mind somewhat clear to form a plan. I snort to myself. A plan? That makes it sound like this was well thought out from the start. The only plan I had when I fled Seattle was survival. And now the only plan I have is to walk. Walk down a dark, twisting, turning, mountain pass towards a town that holds so much fucking heartbreak.
Glancing towards my backpack again I chew on my lip nervously. The little baggy of white pills I had stolen from Royce practically screaming my name from the pocket they reside in. Thus far I hadn’t taken any. So focused on getting to Cedar Edge, that they hadn’t seemed tempting. But now? Being so close to Cedar Edge, the desperation is needling into my soul. The temptation to escape the overwhelming fear mounting with each passing second.
Take the pills.
Don’t. This is a bad place to get high. You need to be aware.
Or maybe this is the perfect place to get high. The longer you sit here the more likely you are to be found by him and dragged back.
I pull the baggy out, dumping the small pills into my hand. He used to give them to me when I was ‘good’ and had ‘earned a treat.’ At first I resisted but by the end I did whatever I could to be granted the reprieve they gave me from the hell he put me through. In the end I was his perfect “doll” who smiled right oncue, who laughed at the exact moments needed, and who doted on the monster whenever needed.
I pop all five into my mouth, swallowing them down with the lukewarm water. I toss the empty bottle onto the ground behind me, leaning my head back against the tree. A small, annoying voice pings in the back of my mind that maybe five was one or two too many. And yet, I can’t seem to fully care about the consequences of my actions.
Death would be the better alternative to being caught.
No one runs from Royce Ripkins III.
Especially not me, not his doll.
Royce was classically handsome, his brown hair perfectly manicured, his body chiseled to perfection and the smile he flashed could get him just about anything, or anyone, he wanted. His charm was honed into a perfect weapon that he used against everyone. It was a net he cast out and used to ensnare his victims. As the owner, and CEO, of the largest tech company on the West Coast from the outside we had the perfect life. Sometimes I truly think he was delusional enough to actually believe the bullshit he spewed about us. ‘High school sweethearts from a small town, reunited after years apart.’ It was the love story anyone would want. The man deserved a fucking Oscar for his performance.
In reality it was a nightmare.Hewas a nightmare. One I couldn’t escape from whether I was awake or asleep. He made sure of that. Shaking my head, refusing to allow the memories to fully claim me I let out a long breath before shoving to my feet. Immediately the storm feels far more intense now that I’m out of the small bit of shelter the trees provided. But the drugs work fast on an empty stomach and already I can feel my limbs loosening and my cares floating away with the wind. I stumble through the underbrush in the direction of the road.
The longer I walk the more reality seems to move and shift. My body grows heavier and heavier until I’m stumbling and jerking my eyes open every few steps. When my foot snags on the lip of the road, I tumble face first, my hands barely catching my heavy body against the asphalt. Consciousness keeps trying to fade away from me as I struggle to keep my eyes open. Warning bells chime in my mind, bells that seem to think it's important for me to keep my eyes open, the very ones that keep pushing me to get up and keep walking.
“No.” I think I say to the bells. But instead of listening to me they grow larger and louder with a desperate urgency, the tone sounding so similar to one of the men who broke my heart. “I want to sleep. Leave me alone.” I try to say, but my mouth can’t seem to form the words. Everything feels muffled and dark and I stop fighting as it drags me under.
Chapter Three
Deadly Nightshade aka Belladona: “Unlike most toxic fruits they are deeply and seductively sweet, and for this reason are seen as evil, as any dangerous plant with good manners was supposed to grow its berries bitter to avoid ingestion.”
-Fez Inkwright, Botanical Curses and Poisons: The Shadow Lives of Plants-
Logan
“Fucking hell the roads are shit.” I grumble as I make my way up the mountain pass road towards home. The ranch was typically the perfect escape, given how far it was out of town, but on nights like this I cursed the drive. The summer storms are few and far between in our sleepy town but when they hit, man, they fucking hit. Often washing the roads out between the town and our property for days at a time. It's why I had left the shop in a hurry when Law texted about the incoming storm, cancelling my last client before hurriedly locking up.
And then Marla had texted me, saying her newest foal had escaped her pasture and was lost in the storm. She was doing her best running their ranch on her own while coping with thegrief that was still, no doubt, raw. The fire season had been rough, claiming her husband's life along with three others in town. I am, however, regretting how long I lingered to help her find the little guy. My windshield wipers can barely keep up, the rain coming down in a deluge across the front of the car. Even my headlights struggle to cut through the darkness. Dropping my speed down to practically a crawl I navigate the twisting and turning pass. Every so often a flash of lightning illuminates the dark forest lining either side of the road. Truth be told, the whole situation is the perfect start to a horror movie.
My eyes skate towards the time displayed on the digital screen.
“Ace is going to kill me.” I groan. We were now firmly into ‘I’m late’ territory. Every night Ace is out on a job he demands a check in, one that, unless otherwise stated, neither of us would be late for. And yet here I was, a full two hours late for the check in with no explanation given. I hadn’t thought to call while I was looking for the foal and now I had no interest in having this conversation while driving, if anything that would earn me more punishment.
My ass was still sore from the paddling I had received yesterday before he left. The thought of it has me shifting against the leather seats, my cock stirring to attention. He had chased me through the woods, hunted me, after I “escaped” with a ball gag in mouth. I couldn’t help the brat in me, not when Ace was so good at punishing me. I can still feel his tattooed fingers around my neck, shoving me into the ground as he fucked me from behind. His cock stretched me so deliciously. He had edged me until I was mindless and weeping and only then did he allow me to cum.
I groan and shake my head, forcing the memory away so I can concentrate on the road. How awkward would it be if I gotinto a car accident and Law had to rescue me? I would have to explain I was day dreaming of Ace fucking me senseless.
Coming around the corner another flash of lightning acts like a spot light through the darkness at the same time a small figure falls from the dark woods. The body collapses, half on the road and half still in the brush. Slamming my foot on the break the jeep locks up, practically fishtailing as I force it to come to a stop not far from the collapsed person.
“What the fuck.” I growl glancing in my mirror, waiting for the figure to stand up. My gut churns, something deep within waking up and settling into unease as the figure remains motionless.
Grabbing the gun I keep in the locked center console I use my other hand to hit the top name on the screen of my cell.
