Chase

Six years ago

In the middle of the night, a crackling fire lights the skies. Soot and the scent of gas fill the air. With my bag in my hand and my mask firmly on, I approach. On the docks, a car is engulfed in flames, and screams emanate from the warehouse up ahead.

I wonder what’s going on.

I came here to kill a man who evaded a conviction. The judge let him go because there was no proof, but this wasn’t the only time he took advantage of a woman. There were multiple victims, but none of them were heard. I’m here to set the record straight.

This warehouse belongs to him, and I knew he would be here tonight. Only, I didn’t expect someone else to be here too.

Or that there’d be a burning car.

I go inside with caution. I have to find out what’s happening in there. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until I’ve killed this motherfucker.

However, the moment I spot a man sitting on a chair in the middle of the hall, I stop in my tracks. He’s bound with ropes and screaming his lungs out. Blood spats litter the floor.

And a man with a knife stands right in front of him.

I frown, watching as I place my bag on the floor.

The man turns around when he hears me. I pause.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply.

He points the knife at me while the man in the seat continues to scream into the cloth stuffed in his mouth. “Get out!”

“No.”

“What do you want?” he yells.

“Well,” I say, licking my lips, “for one, you’re killing my victim, and two, you’re not going about it very smart, now are you?”

He makes a face, the knife still firmly in his hand. I doubt he’s going to throw it at me. If he does, there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll avoid it, and then what weapon does he have left? Nothing.

“What?” he mutters.

I point at my face. “No mask?”

He touches his skin, and then his eyes widen. “I told you to get the fuck out. Or do you want me to kill you too?”

A lopsided smile forms on my lips. “It’s funny that you think you can, but no worries, I’m not here to stop you.”

Confusion mars his face. “Why are you here?”

“Seems we have the same goal,” I say.

“Look, I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m not going to stop.” He holds the knife under the man’s throat, who begins to sweat profusely. “This fucker has to die.”

“I agree,” I say.

The man raises a brow as he gazes at me with a befuddled look on his face. “You agree?”

I bend over and open my bag, showing him the contents. An assortment of weapons for every occasion and for every single one of my whims. I like the surprise element it brings to the game.

“O-kay.” He nods, rubbing his lips together. “Interesting.”

“Is that all you brought?” I ask, glaring at the knife.

“What else do I need?”

I shrug. “Whatever you like.”

He shakes his head, his lips curling up. “Nah … I prefer snuffing them out slowly.”

“Ahhh …” I mumble. “Like a fire that burns out.”

His eyes narrow as if he’s searching for clues.

“The burning car, outside,” I add. “That was your work?”

“Why? Is it important?”

“No,” I muse. “Just interesting. And a beautiful spectacle.”

“You think so?” There’s a smug smile on his face. “Thanks.”

He toys with the knife, flipping it in his hand, before stabbing his victim in the knee.

The squeal that follows is like music to my ears.

Too bad I wasn’t the one delivering the pain.

God, I want to jump in so badly, but this … this is something new and exciting. This man seems to love dishing out the pain just as much as I do, and it strikes my curiosity. I want to know more.

“So do you do this often?” I ask.

“What?” he asks.

“Killing people,” I say deadpan.

He takes a breath, his face darkening. “Sometimes,” he says, pulling the knife from the man’s leg. “Only when they deserve it.”

“So you know about the things he did,” I say.

“Of course … he’s a pig.” He slashes the man’s cheek, whose pants turn yellow from soiling himself. “He deserves nothing less.”

The man turns toward me and growls, “What do you want from him then?”

“The same as you … I want him in the ground,” I reply with an unmistakable vicious undertone. “But I like to see my victims in pain before they meet their end.”

He nods, licking his lips. “I prefer for them to burn … and anything that ever belonged to them.”

I grin. “Interesting,” I say, grabbing a knife from my bag. “What do you say we work together on this one? Would you mind?”

He arches his back and lowers the knife for a second. “Hmm … As a one-time thing?”

“Perhaps,” I say. “Or perhaps, this could be the start of something much more interesting.”

A smile slowly creeps onto his face, and he nods while replying, “Perhaps.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, amused.

“Brandon. Yours?”

I tilt my head back. “Call me Chase.”

As I approach the two men, whistling a tune, I can’t help but think this might be the start of something new. Something completely different.

Maybe these nights out won’t be so lonely anymore.

Even killers need someone to look out for them. And we seemed to be quite the matching pair.

Me with all my toys and passion for blood … and him with his desire to ignite fires under everything and anything he morally could.

Oh yes … we were going to be perfect together.

* * *

Syrena

Present

It literally takes me hours to unlock the door.

I thought the card would work, but he had modern locks.

But I refused to give up.

Instead, I grabbed whatever small metal implement I could find. In this case, I just ripped one of the curtains off and took the metal ring, which I bent out of shape by banging it on the kitchen countertop until it was a long thin strip.

I then poked through the keyhole long enough to make it click.

Honestly, I don’t even know how long it took, but the moment it sprung open, my energy zapped back in.

I immediately grab a coat, put it on, and open the door.

Only to bump right into him.

Fuck.

Did I take that long?

Or did he come home so quickly?

I stumble backward as he stands rigidly in the hallway, unmoving. My hands are shaking. I don’t know if I just got caught or not.

Did I really open the door or did he?

He steps forward, and I take a step back. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. And before I know it, he’s got me back where he wants me. The door is closed and locked again. All that work was for nothing. My chance to escape has evaporated into thin air. My heart sinks into my shoes.

“You tried to run?”

I’m not even sure if he’s asking a question.

He takes off his coat, and I can feel it brush along my skin while he hangs it on the hanger. Then he pulls open the closet and places something inside, locking it again.

There’s a painful tension hanging in the air. Like lightning, it crackles between us.

“Tell me,” he says. His voice is calm, collected even.

Unexpected.

So much so, that when my lips part, nothing rolls off my tongue. I’m that flabbergasted.

“I … I …” I never stammer like this. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what? Why am I apologizing?

“It’s okay.” He grabs my shoulders, and I immediately forget what I was thinking or what I even said because he leans in and whispers, “I missed you.”

Goose bumps scatter across my skin. Why did my heartbeat jump just now?

I push him away. I can’t let him do this. “No.”

“No?” He laughs. “It’s the truth.”

“No. Why aren’t you mad?” I ask, balling my fist.

“Because it’s only natural to want to run away from me,” he says, but the way he says it cuts into me. I don’t know why. It just does.

And I stand there, completely frozen as he tips my chin up and says, “I forgive you.”

I shake my head, but then his lips crash onto mine, and I’m completely taken away from this world again. He kisses me with such passion, such fiery love that I’m losing myself in the moment, losing myself in him. In my captor.

I push him away again. “No, you can’t do this.”

“Do what? Give you the love you deserve?” he says, and I can feel him smile against my lips again.

It’s so hard to resist, but I have to. For the sake of my sanity. For the sake of the people still stuck in that goddamn compound. God knows what Graham is doing to them.

“You can’t wrap me around your finger,” I say, emboldened by my own spirit.

He chuckles softly. As if it’s funny even when it’s not. “I don’t think it was me who wrapped you around my finger.” He grabs my chin again. “And you did it so very well.”

I turn my head. “You know exactly why.”

“Right.” The sound of his voice is harsher. “I’ll change the locks on my door to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Well, fuck. I screwed myself there, didn’t I?

He walks away and goes into the bathroom, so I traipse behind him, wondering where he’s going.

“Following me now?” he asks as a shirt falls to the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as he takes off his shoes and kicks them into the corner.

“Gonna take a shower.” His pants follow as I hear the zipper and the fabric dropping.

I imagine he’s naked. I don’t know why.

Too bad my cheeks already turn red before I can force myself to think of something else.

The shower’s turned on, and he steps under it.

“Wanna join me?”

The sudden question almost makes my heart pop out of my chest.

“Wh-what?”

“Figured you’d want to since you’re still here.”

“N-no.” I fold my arms. “Of course not.”

“Suit yourself.” The water cascades down his body, and I can only imagine what it’d look like. Sometimes, I really wish I could still see.

Fuck. Why do I have these conflicting thoughts? I hate it.

“Where did you go?” I ask, trying to change the topic.

“To see an old … friend.”

“Friend?” I frown. “Why?” He ran away right after we had sex, which means it was important. Or maybe he really wanted to get away from me because I’m finally starting to have an effect on him.

A smile forms on my lips. Good.

“Does it matter?” he asks.

Why the diversions?

I take one step in his direction. “Yes. It does if you want me to trust you, which you keep saying.”

It’s silent for a while, and I wonder if he’s heard what I said or not.

But then his familiar dark voice echoes through the room. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“That same avoidance again,” I say. “Tsk.”

“I’m protecting you,” he says, turning off the shower.

“From what?” I ask as the draft of a towel wafts by.

Suddenly, he’s right in front of me. “Me.”

I suck in a breath.

He’s so close; I can almost taste the water drops on his skin.

Fuck.

Why am I even affected so much by his presence? I should be scared. Angry. But all I want right now is his hands all over my body. And it’s pissing me off.

“Fine,” I hiss, turning around before I make an epic mistake.

However, before I can go anywhere, he places a hand on my shoulder and stops me from walking. “I’m doing this for you.”

“What?” I ask, without turning around. “Running away after humiliating me like that? Leaving me with this collar? Keeping me a prisoner in your home?”

He places both hands on my shoulders now, standing so close to me that his breath warms my skin.

“Did you really feel humiliated?” His hand brushes my hair away, exposing my neck … and the collar. He plants a kiss right on top of my shoulder. The moan that follows sends shivers down my spine. “Or do you just not want to admit you liked it?”

I shake my head. Not because he’s wrong, but because I want him to be wrong.

“You’re not a prisoner. You’re my guest, and I want you to be happy,” he whispers, sucking on my earlobe right after. “I like you, Syrena. I like having you around.”

“I’m not a pet,” I reply, pulling away before he goes too far.

Too far for me to stop him.

“I have wants and needs too,” I add.

“What do you want then?” he asks. “Tell me, and I might be able to give it to you.”

My mouth opens, but I don’t even know what to say.

The first thing that rests on my tongue is freedom … but I know by asking him that he’ll never give it to me, and it’ll only piss him off.

So I opt for something safer. The second thing on my list.

“I want to know if my friends are safe. I want to know if Graham is treating them well.”

There’s a pause before he answers. “I can arrange that.”

It feels as if my heart just made a tiny jump in my chest. “Can I talk to them?”

“That … I don’t know.”

I sigh. The excitement is short-lived.

He approaches me and places a hand on my cheek, caressing me. I’m flabbergasted for a moment. Surprised by his sudden sweetness. “Is that why you tried to escape? Do you miss them?”

I nod. Tears well up in my eyes just thinking about them. I feel guilty for being here. For eating good food and for sleeping in a warm bed when they aren’t. Even if none of us are free, at least my prison isn’t cold and harsh.

“You don’t have to feel bad. Graham won’t hurt them if they’re still useful to him.”

“Which I was not,” I say.

“It’s probably why he sold you, yes.”

My hands turn into fists. I knew it.

“Why me? Why can’t they be safe too?”

“Patience,” he says, cupping my face. “Have faith that it will be resolved. One way or another.”

What does that mean? He’s so cryptic, yet I can’t help but think this is somehow important. Like he’s trying to tell me something without actually spilling the beans.

“Will you save them?” I ask out of the blue.

I don’t know why I think he can.

Maybe it’s because he took me from that hellhole and brought me here.

Or maybe I just know deep down only someone just as depraved as Graham could make a stand against him.

“If I can, I will.” He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me closer, his hard-on pressing against my thighs. He’s still very much naked under the towel. I haven’t forgotten.

“I promise.”

I swallow away the lump in my throat. Why do I feel like kissing him?

It’s insane. I’m going insane.

“Why … why do you do all this?” I ask.

“Because you …” He leans his forehead against mine. “Can save me.”

Me? Save him?

“It’s why I took you from that barbarian.”

“Is that my purpose?” I suck on my bottom lip. If this is what he wants, what he needs before he’ll set me free, then maybe I need to focus on that. Give him what he wants.

I lower my head. “Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”

There’s another pause. “As I said, I can’t. I need to discover this on my own terms.”

He tips my chin up so he can look in my eyes, and even though I can’t see him, I can feel him as if he’s peering straight into my soul.

“I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to be that person anymore …” His grip on my waist tightens. “If you knew who I really was, you would think I’m a devil. And I don’t want you to ever think of me that way again. I want to be a good man.”

“Then be a good man,” I mumble.

“I’m trying,” he says. “Hard.”

“Show me then … show me how hard you’re trying.” I bite my lip. “And show me what kind of monster you really are.”

I want to know him. I want to know what he’s hiding. Why he’s keeping so much a secret. Why he felt the need to kill me and then love me all the same.

A muffled chuckle leaves his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m not afraid,” I say. “You saved me from him. Graham. He was a real monster.”

My hand instinctively reaches up to his face, and I feel my way around for the second time since I met him. My fingers stroke through his hair, wondering why touching him makes me feel closer to him for some reason. Why it makes me feel like I should get to know him better.

There’s something instinctual between us … like animals that fight for power … and to fuck.

“You want me?” he asks. “The real me?”

I nod even though he’s right. I don’t know what I’m asking. Still, I want to find out.

I want to dig deeper. Wade my way inside him until there’s no going back.

Until it’s only me and him. Until I’m free.

Whatever kind of freedom that may be.

So I let him pick me up and carry me away.