Page 50 of The Torturer's Target

Max forced himself to walk away. None of his exes were like Tesiera—he had a type. Or he thought he did. He was attracted to the woman in a way he’d never been with anyone else.

Trouble, Max. The woman is trouble.

That night, Max worked until he was overcome by exhaustion and finally went to bed. The moment he lay down, his eyelids grow heavy, and he drifted off into a deep sleep. Until a piercing scream shattered the stillness of the night, causing him to jolt awake in alarm.

At first, Max was disoriented and wondered if he had imagined it. But then the scream echoed once again, louder this time, sending a shiver down his spine. Without hesitation, he leaped out of bed, shoving his feet into his slippers and hurrying towards Hazel’s room.

With a sense of urgency, Max flung open the door to the child’s room, but to his surprise, she was fast asleep, her small face serene and peaceful. He frowned, wondering if he had misheard. However, as he thought about it, he realized that it couldn’t have been Hazel’s.

The scream came again, sending chills down Max's spine. “Tesiera!” he gasped and shut Hazel’s door.

He made his way to Tesiera’s room, kicking himself for thinking it was Hazel screaming. Tesiera’s room was literally next to his, so what had he been thinking?

He pushed Tesiera’s door open, his heart pounding in his chest. As he entered the dimly lit room, he saw her thrashing around in her bed, drenched in sweat and whimpering incoherently.

Her distress was palpable, and she cried out, her voice trembling with fear. “No…! D-don’t shoot...!” she begged. “Daddy, give it to him…!”

Max stood frozen to the spot. It wasn’t the firm, hard voice of the Tesiera he’d become accustomed to but the voice of a little girl.

That was when the realization hit him hard. Not only was she having a nightmare, but she was reliving the night her father had been murdered.

Max's countenance fell, and a heavy weight settled in his chest. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for what had happened to her. After all, it was his half-brother who had killed her father. Perhaps he had his own share of guilt to bear.

As he watched Tesiera struggle through her nightmare, Max couldn’t help but feel a sense of sympathy for her. Was this a frequent cross she had to bear, reliving that dreadful night over and over again? Despite the years that had passed since the tragic incident, she still suffered from the effect.

His hands fell to his sides as he let go of the door handle, moving to wake her. But before he could reach her, she jolted upright, heaving heavy breaths.

The room was dark, and Max stepped back behind the door, unnoticed. As he observed her, he noticed emotions that he had never seen before. She appeared frightened and overwhelmed, and he could tell that she was struggling to keep her composure.

Max knew she wouldn’t appreciate being seen in such a vulnerable state, so he stayed where she was.

Suddenly, Tesiera reached for her bedside table and pulled out a knife. She pushed her nightgown away and bared her thighs...

Max stilled, and he tilted his head to the side, gazing with confusion. His mouth fell open in horror as he realized what she was doing. By then, she had already sliced open her flesh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Max stepped out from behind the door, racing towards her bed to try and stop her. Tesiera was startled by his sudden and unexpected presence, visibly flinching.

Approaching her bed, Max saw the blood streaming out of her thigh, and he was appalled. He blinked at the sight before him, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“I should be asking you the same, Doc. Why are you in my room?” Tesiera retorted.

“Helping you. I can’t stand here and watch you do this to yourself,” Max opposed, grabbing a hold of the knife and taking it away from her.

“I don’t need your help,” Tesiera spat, yanking the knife out of his grip and making another attempt to cut in her inner thigh.

“I know you think you don’t, but I will stop you anyway.” Max wrestled the knife away from Tesiera.

She stared up at him with narrowed eyes, fury surging in her veins. Tesiera glared at him with the glowing eyes of a menacing killer.

Yet Max refused to return the knife to her. She grunted in frustration, opening the drawer again and taking out another knife. But just as she was about to use it, he snatched it from her.

“What the fuck?” she barked. She attempted to reclaim it, but he took the blades out of her reach.

“What are you doing?” Max repeated, his tone sharp. “I told you, I’m not letting you hurt yourself,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “I saw you having that nightmare, and I know it’s about that night. But self-harm is not the answer.”

Tesiera’s jaw clenched at the realization that he had witnessed her at her most vulnerable. She felt exposed.

“Get out of my room, sir,” she snarled, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she emphasized the honorific.

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