“You never asked me how you paid for this,” he whispers, his face close to mine. “I told you, my services are expensive, way too expensive for a girl like you. And you asked for a lot. You didn’t want just one tiny detail erased from your memory, you wanted it all gone. You wanted a clean slate, a new chance to become someone else, someone new. And you paid by allowing me to decide who that person will be.”

  I inhale audibly, not moving an inch as he moves even closer, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss that’s nothing more than an innocent peck, but so sensual that it plays havoc with my needy self.

  Chapter 65

  Petal

  I want to kiss him. I want him to touch me, to take me.

  The things we did, the things he showed me, and the things I was allowed to learn about myself thanks to him—just thinking about it kindle a desire within me that is too strong to be ignored.

  But it looks like I’m not left with a choice in this matter right now. Despite my obvious flush and my palpable need for him, he doesn’t go in for a kiss. He doesn’t pull me toward him to wrap his strong arms around me and lift me up, detaching the leash to bring me where he wants me.

  Instead, he retreats, adding only a quick and gentle yank to the leash around my throat before he retreats.

  “Stay here,” he says, already walking away from me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I follow him with an anxious expression unfolding on my face, unsure what to make of the fact that he’s leaving me all by myself, with nothing but this leash keeping me in place.

  He hurries, running more than he’s walking as he leaves the kitchen out to the hall. I can hear his steps as he flies up the stairs, leaving me to assume that he’s fetching something from the bedroom upstairs.

  Or from the dungeon.

  My heart jolts with excitement, overshadowing everything else. For a moment, I even forget about the possibility to leave.

  I know I could. My eyes trail down to the hook, inspecting the clip at the end of the leash from afar. I would need to unscrew the clasp, which would probably take less than a minute.

  Enough time to unhook the leash and get out of here. The doors are probably locked, but I’m sure the windows aren’t.

  I could.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I take a step back, and then another, creating distance between me and the clasp of the leash that would grant me freedom if I opened it.

  I don’t want it. Not now. Just a few days ago, I would have given anything to get away from him, to flee from this prison, no matter how gilded it may appear.

  But everything is different now. I still don’t know who I am, but I know why I’m here. I know I decided to be here, and even though I can’t relate to the past version of me who made that decision, I don’t want to betray her either. Fleeing now would ruin all of this.

  If the things he said were true.

  There’s still a possibility that they weren’t. I’m a blank canvas, void of any understanding about myself, my life, my past. He could tell me anything.

  But she couldn’t. The girl in the video shared fragments of the same story he just told me. That video is as much proof as I can hope for.

  But the girl who showed it to me disappeared, and he refuses to tell me why that is. It’s obvious that something has changed, that letting me down here and telling me all these things was not purely meant as a gesture to celebrate my birthday.

  It was more than that. Something is moving out there, and maybe it took her away from us.

  But why won’t he tell me?

  Once again, my head is spinning with questions so violently that it almost makes me dizzy. I tear my eyes away from the kitchen and the little hook that keeps me in place, turning back to the table where we just sat together like a normal couple, eating a spaghetti dinner. Normal, except for the fact that I’m butt naked, wearing nothing but a collar that’s chained to the kitchen counter with a long leash.

  I meander around the table, the tips of my fingers trailing along the tabletop absentmindedly while I try to calm the turmoil inside my head.

  I never really paid much attention to the magazines and newspaper he pushed aside before serving the food, and now, as I stand next to the table, confronted with their headlines, I wonder why.

  I throw a quick glance back over my shoulder to make sure he’s still upstairs before I reach for the open newspaper on top. It appears to be a local one, thin and lightweight, with very little to report.

  But the headline on the front page catches my eyes right away.

  New leads in Bridgewater murder investigation.

  It’s not the title itself that makes my heart stop for a few seconds, but the first paragraph right beneath it.

  After striking terror for almost four years, the Bridgewater murderer has left his latest victim to be found at Lake Nippenicket, sticking true to his usual proceedings. But this time, the victim revealed new clues to the authorities, possibly providing crucial evidence that could lead to finally solving this ongoing case.

  My eyes are glued to the paper, racing along the rows as if I can’t read the words fast enough.

  There’s a murderer at work in this area, maybe even this town. A murderer who has been active for the past four years.

  A murderer who sedates his victims with a remedy that only very few people have access to. And all of his victims are young women around my age.

  My age, and the other girl’s age.

  My heart is pounding so hard and violently that it feels as if it’s trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

  Was it all a lie? Am I...

  “Put this on.”

  I jump up, evoking a shocked gasp as I let the newspaper glide down to the table. Turning around on my heels, I stare at him, my pulse speeding so much that it causes a dangerous vertigo I have no use for right now.

  Jayson is walking toward me, holding something in his arms that I haven’t seen ever since I woke up in this house: a pile of clothes. Not just a white gown, but actual clothes, a set of simple but elegant cream colored underwear with feminine laces all around, a pair of blue jeans and a casual blouse in red.

  My eyes flit back and forth between him and the clothes as he presents them to me, almost pushing them against my bare chest. Reluctantly, I reach for them, taking the pile out of his hands, and as soon as I do, he plants a kiss on my forehead and turns around, busying himself with the clasp of the leash.

  I watch motionless, my entire body ridden by paralyzing fear.

  “What happened to the girl?” I utter, my voice so low that it’s barely audible.

  He doesn’t react to my question at first, his focus remaining on the clasp until he has unfastened it from the hook. My eyes are locked on to him with tense anticipation as I watch him rise up to his feet. He turns around, arching his eyebrows in surprise when he sees that I haven’t done what he told me to.

  “Get dressed,” he repeats, pointing at the pile of clothes next to me. “Now.”

  “Where’s the girl?” I insist, my hands curling into fists as I hold him in place with a demanding gaze. “Why won’t you tell me what happened to her.”

  The expression on his face changes and he looks confused for a moment before he shakes his head, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

  My breath hikes when he takes a step forward, holding the leash in one hand while he raises the other toward me. I jump back on instinct, succumbing to actual fear for the first time in a while, when we are interrupted by a sound that is new to my ears.

  A violent knocking at the heavy front door.

  Chapter 66

  J

  Her face had turned from blushed to downright pale while I was upstairs to fetch the clothes I had prepared for her to wear tonight.

  It was negligence on my side to not bring them downstairs right away, but my head has been so clustered these past few days that a detail as minor as this one had a good chance at slipping through. It shouldn’t matter. I trusted her to stay where I left her, not worrying for a moment that she might use the chance to escape, just when everything was about to end anyway.

  Of course, she doesn’t know about that last part. I didn’t want her to.

  I knew I had to take action after talking to Christopher at the police station a few days ago, so I did. I knew we’d have to deal with the police sooner or later, but I didn’t expect for things to go down this route.

  I had to adapt and act quickly.

  And I was forced to step up my game even more when Malia left the house. Things moved so fast, too fast, for me and for Petal.

  And I hope to God that it will all work out in the end. A lot of things have to fall into place from now on, to make sure that Petal is safe and I save my own neck.

  We both startle at the loud hammering at the front door. She already looked unhinged when I first came back to the room, insisting on asking about Malia instead of following my instructions. But now, she looks outright terrified.

  “Who is that?”

  Her voice is trembling, as are her lips.

  “Get dressed,” I hiss at her. “Now.”

  She hesitates for a moment, before apparently deciding that no matter what, it’s better for her to face the intruder while being fully dressed instead of being seen as a naked sex slave by anyone but me.

  I make it easier for her by removing the leash from her collar, staying close while she hurries to slip in the clothes I brought, while the violent knocking continues. A muffled voice has joined the hammering sound, but the door is too thick to reveal what exactly is being said as the person continues to work the door with his fists.

  I don’t need to hear the words to know who is attacking my door like this. I knew he would come, but I’m still surprised at the hurry with which everything is happening.

  I don’t give her any time to ponder once she’s dressed, ignoring her quizzical face as I grab her wrist and drag her with me toward the door.

  “Who is that?” she presses, fidgeting but not giving me an actual fight as I force her to follow me.

  “Jayson, please, talk to me! Who is that at the door? What’s going o—”

  “Police!” the voice roars from the outside, and I cast her a quick glance over the shoulder.

  “There’s your answer,” I say, coming to a halt in front of the door and turning to her. We only have seconds, but I need to make sure to use them wisely.

  “Listen to me, Petal,” I hiss. “You’ll be okay. You have to trust me on this. We’re about to—”

  “Open the fucking door right now!”

  She jerks, casting a worried look to the door that is shaking in its hinges.

  I wanted more time to assure her, more time to prepare both of us for what is about to happen, but it doesn’t look like we’ll be granted that time. And I sure as hell don’t want to give them a reason to break my door in and take control out of my hands entirely.

  So, I open it for them.

  It’s not a conscious motion, but I’m holding Petal’s hand as the door swings open before us, revealing the rude intruder and his entourage.

  Christopher builds himself up like a fucking bulldozer, only hesitating for a split second before he barges inside, pushing me to the side and heading toward Petal. Our hands are separated as she backs off, raising her hands in defense as he marches to her. “Liliane!” he exclaims, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her in place while she stares up at him through wide and horrified eyes.

  “Detain him!” he yells at the other two policemen, not taking his eyes off of her for a split second, while the other two guys, both not much older than him, but a lot smaller in stature, approach me, one grabbing my arms and crossing them behind my back while the other fastens a set of handcuffs around my wrists.

  Petal’s eyes dart back and forth between Christopher and me, an expression of desperate confusion painted all across her face.

  “Liliane, are you okay?” Christopher asks, shaking her by the shoulders to get her attention.

  She looks at him, shaking her head with a lack of understanding.

  “Who...,” she utters, neither recognizing her own name nor the man who used to be a close friend for most of her youth.

  Christopher growls, throwing me a hateful look from the side.

  “What did you do to her?” he barks at me. “Did you do it again? Did you erase her memory?”

  I don’t deign him with a reply, only reciprocating his spiteful look with a quick glance before my focus returns to Petal.

  “It’ll be okay,” I promise her, tuning out the raging asshole and the policemen who keep me in a tight lock. “Trust me, it’ll—”

  “Trust you!” Christopher cuts me off. “You fucking maniac!”

  He nods to his colleagues. “Take him to the station. She’s coming with me.”

  My chest tightens. I knew it. I knew this is how it would go down. I saw it coming.

  And I let us walk right into it.

  Petal’s face is white and pained with confusion. She’s visibly uncomfortable in Christopher’s molesting grasp, but he ignores her disposition entirely.

  “Come,” he says, lowering his voice to a soft and loving tone as he slowly turns, letting go of her shoulders only to move his hand to the small of her back, giving her a gentle push as he leads her out of the house, while her eyes remain glued onto me.

  I watch as he leads her down the driveway toward one of the two cars that are parked in front of my house, while I stay behind, fighting the urge to come after them, to protect her, to take her away from him.

  My girl. My Petal.

  It hurts to see his hands on her, and it hurts even more to see her this distraught. I only find solace in the knowledge that this horror will be short-lived and over very soon.

  He opens the door for her, nudging her when she hesitates, her eyes searching for me still. I suggest a nod, moving slowly as the policemen guide me through the door.

  Her eyes remain latched onto mine, never breaking eye contact until Christopher turns the car around, leaving my property with irresponsible speed.

  As soon as the car is out of sight, I’m met with the questioning gaze of one of the policemen, whose name I know to be Carlos.

  “Get me out of these.”

  He beckons for the other guy, whose name I don’t know, to unlock the cuffs around my wrists.

  “You sure about this?” he asks, hurrying next to me as I jog to the car.

  “I am,” I reply, exchanging a short glance with him as I get the driver’s door. “But it’s still a risk. We have to hurry.”

  My eyes trail to the street, my chest racing at the knowledge that she’s out there, with him.

  My Petal is in danger, because of me.

  But soon this will all be over. For good.

  Chapter 67

  Malia

  He doesn’t look like the man I expected to see. I was prepared for the worst, ready to face a broken man, guilt-ridden and pained by the despair her disappearance must have caused him.

  I had my first words laid out, a little monologue that was supposed to offer him consolation when nothing else could. I thought I’d have to face the anguish of guilt, knowing that I’m partly to blame for his current terror.

  I felt sick to the stomach as I stood in front of his door, bracing myself as I waited for him to open it for me.

  My concerns were washed away and replaced with something else when he finally did.

  “Malia,” he said, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “What brings you here?”

  I’m struck by the ease in his voice. That’s not how I expected to find the man whose daughter has recently disappeared into thin air.

  “I… I just wanted to check up on you,” I stutter. “To see how you’re doing. Since Liliane—”

  “Abandoned her only living relative? Turned her back on the man who raised her, who did everything for her?” he cuts me off, anger lacing his stance as he crosses his arms in front of his chest as he leans against the doorframe. “You were in on it, weren’t you? I’m sure she told her best friend about her plans.”

  I swallow hard. So, he found the letter. “Excuse me, what—”

  “Oh come, don’t play dumb with me, Malia. I read her letter. I know what she’s up to. She probably went back to that boy,” he bellows. “She never listens to me, never has, never will. Ungrateful and wayward, just like her mother. I’m done trying with her.”

  I stare up at him, appalled at his reaction. Even when factoring in the letter, I expected him to worry about her, to be sad about her leaving, and to feel pushed down by the guilt of driving her away with his overbearing behavior.

  But this?

  “Aren’t you worried about her?”

  He scoffs, lowering his gaze, and for a split second, I see the sorrow cast over his face that I expected to find.

  “I was always worried about her,” he says, sounding offended. “Day and night I worried about her, because I know what’s best for her. But where did that get us? She ran off. Just like her mother did back then. She doesn’t deserve my concern, not anymore.”

  “You don’t really mean that,” I utter.

  But Robert just shakes his head, the expression on his face hard and unforgiving.

  “I meant it,” he insists. “This time I really do. She’s abandoned me once before, and I came after her. I won’t do that same mistake again.”

  Violent pain throbs through my chest, reeking of guilt and regret. I was so sure to do the right thing, but with just a few words and eyes that lack the sorrow I needed to see, Robert managed to make me doubt everything.

  Did I do the right thing?

  Was Jayson right all along?

  Did I not see her, not listen to her—just like her father never did?

  Did I just make a very big mistake?