Page 52 of Choose Me

"Let her go. You have me, you don't need her."

"Stupid boy," she scoffed. "Why do men always think they are the most important person in a room?"

I stared at her in confusion.

"You're not the star of this show, love. You are leverage."

"Leverage?"

"How can you look like that and be so fucking stupid?" She mocked.

"I don't care what twisted fucking game you're playing. You can do whatever you want to me, but let her go. I will do whatever you want. You can torture or kill me. I don't give a shit. Just let her go."

Margaret's eyes glinted with something feral, and I shuddered in fear. "You're so willing to sacrifice yourself for her," she mused. "It's almost cute. Ava means nothing to me. She's just a pawn, a tool to get what I want."

Her lips twisted into a cruel smile.

This wasn't a game to her.

She was enjoying this.

"You think it's that simple?"

I swallowed hard, my throat as dry as a desert. "What do you want then?"

"I want you to suffer. I want you to feel the same pain I felt when you took everything from me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice wavering.

"The only family I had is gone because of you."

"I didn't kill him--."

"You may not have pulled the trigger, but you might as well have." She interrupted me, her face twisted into fury.

"I didn't kill him, but I wish I fucking had. That sadistic, fucking piece-of-shit psycho deserved everything he got."

She strolled towards me, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. She stopped before me, leaning down so her face was inches from mine. The smooth, cold barrel of her gun pressed against my temple, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for her to pull the trigger.

Her laugh filled the room with a deep, menacing sound that seemed to seep into my bones. I opened my eyes to see her smirking down at me. "You really thought I was going to kill you, didn't you?" she chuckled, stepping back.

My heart raced with a mix of fear and rage. She was like a cat playing with me like a cat before a kill, and I couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell do you want from me?" I spat, clenching my fists.

"You thirsty, honey?" she asked, holding a water bottle.

I tried to lunge for it, but she pulled it away, laughing.

"Not so fast," she said. "I need to know you're going to be a good boy and not do anything stupid." Her eyes drilled into me as she clutched the bottle tightly.

"And if I refuse?"

"Oh, you won't refuse. Trust me."

"Fine," I growled.

"Good boy."

She handed over the bottle, and I gulped the water down, feeling it soothe my parched throat. The water tasted bitter, and my throat burned as I swallowed. I looked up at Margaret, fear twisting in my gut.

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