Page 3 of Sweet Doe
I try to struggle, but his grip tightens fractionally. Not enough to cut off my air completely, but enough to remind me how easily hecould. How powerless I am against him.
"You're going to come with me quietly," he continues. "You're going to get in my car, and you're going to let me take you somewhere safe. Somewhere we can be alone while the world searches for poor, missing Alex."
"And if I refuse?" I manage to gasp out.
“Refuse?” His laugh is low and cruel, head cocked as he looks me over like he’s already claimed me. “That would imply you’ve got a choice.”
He steps closer, slow and deliberate, energy radiating off him like a storm about to break.
“You think I went through all this—risked everything, just to walk away if you say no?” His voice dips, rough and intimate. “Come on, Sloan. I know you’re smarter than that. You’re coming with me. Whether it’s willingly or kicking and sobbing is completely up to you.”
He leans in, mouth brushing my ear, sending chills across my skin.
“Just know, the more you scream, the harder my dick gets.”
His words hang in the air between us, heavy. He means it. I can see it in his eyes, in the casual way he holds my life in his hands. He's already killed tonight. He’ll do it again.
But even through the terror, even through the shock and horror of what's happening, a small part of my mind is working frantically, trying to find some way out of this nightmare.
I need to stay alive. I need to buy time and make him think I'm broken,compliant, no longer a threat.
Because the alternative?
The alternative is being dragged away by this psycho, against my will, and used for fuck knows what—whatever sick, vile obsession he’s been feeding all this time. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen enough Dateline and read enough dark romance to know what this is. I see it in his eyes. The need. The hunger. The delusion that I belong to him now just because he’s decided it.
"Okay," I whisper, letting my body go limp against the pew. "Okay, I'll come with you."
His grip on my throat loosens slightly, but his eyes remain suspicious. "Such a compliant, good girl."
"What choice do I have?" I meet his gaze, trying to project some version of defeat rather than the rage burning in my chest. "You've made it clear what happens if I don't cooperate."
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for deception. I force myself to remain still, to let tears track down my cheeks and look like exactly what he wants to see: a broken, scared woman with no fight left.
Finally, he steps back, giving me room to breathe.
"Smart girl," he says approvingly. "I knew you were intelligent. That's one of the things that drew me to you."
Drew him to me.
Like I did it on purpose.
"We're leaving," he announces, moving to collect the scattered contents of the black box. "Now.Together."
I watch in horror as he carefully places the severed hand back in its gift box, wrapping it up like some precious treasure. The nonchalant way he handles what's left of his own brother tells me everything I need to know about the monster standing before me.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Somewhere special," he says, tying the ribbon easily. "Somewhere no one will think to look for us. Somewhere we can start fresh, just you and me."
He moves toward me again, and I have to fight every instinct not to run. His hand settles on the small of my back, possessive and warm, and it takes everything I have not to shudder with revulsion.
"Come along, my sweet doe," he murmurs against my ear, his breath hot and nauseating. "Our adventure is just beginning."
I let him guide me toward the back of the church, my legs moving mechanically while my mind races.
Deep down I know I'm not the same girl who walked into this church. That girl died along with Alex, somewhere in the snow outside.
But this version of me is not dead yet. And as long as I'm alive, I have a chance. A chance to escape. A chance to make him pay for what he's done.
