Hayden left me alone again, and I did as he’d said and got myself cleaned up and dressed.

That had probably been a really bad idea, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to stop him.

Shit. I’d wanted Hayden Vale. I didn’t want a relationship with him or to get to know him in any way, but deep down, at the core of what made me human, made me a woman, my body had wanted him.

We were all just animals, fucking to procreate. That was what I’d experienced, a kind of savage animalistic lust that took over my mind and prevented me from thinking rationally.

Sex wasn’t rational, was it? People made bad choices about the people they had sex with every day, and I was just going to be another of their number. I’d known this was messed up in so many ways. Yet I hadn’t even tried to make him stop. I could try to tell myself that I’d done it purely to get him on my side, and make sure he took me off the island when he figured out a way to leave, but that hadn’t been my only reason. If I hadn’t been attracted to him, there was no possibility I’d have enjoyed that as much as I had. I’d already known there was chemistry between us from when I’d sucked him off, and when he’d gone down on me, I didn’t think I’d ever been more turned on in my life. I’d come around his tongue, and then a second time with his dick buried deep inside me. I wasn’t stupid or naïve. I knew a woman wouldn’t have that kind of reaction if she wasn’t enjoying what was being done to her.

I hated being locked down here, not knowing what the hell was happening upstairs. What was he planning to happen next? Would he take me off the island? Was his pilot back with his plane? I wanted to be involved now, to have him discuss his plans with me. It was almost as though he knew the worst punishment he could give me was shutting me out, though I didn’t know what I was being punished for now. I’d made him feel good; I knew I had. He should want more.

Unless he’d taken what he wanted, and now he was done with me.

Had I played my best card too soon?

Like a zoo animal who’d been living in captivity for too long, I suddenly felt the walls of my prison far more acutely. I didn’t want to be trapped down here. Unable to concentrate on anything except what might happen next, I paced the floor of my underground cell, reaching one wall then turning around and stalking back the way I’d come.

I yanked at the metal circles around my wrists, squeezing my fingers and fist together to make them as slender as possible. I tried to force the cuff down, gritting my teeth against the pain. It didn’t work, and all I succeeded in doing was making my skin red-raw, and my wrist and the top of my hand to bruise and swell, making the likelihood of ever getting the cuff off even less.

I went to the bathroom and slicked my skin with the liquid soap and conditioner I’d been provided with and used that to try and take off the cuff.

There were hidden cameras in the room—ones I’d frustratingly still not found, despite looking repeatedly—and so Hayden would be able to see what I was doing if he checked the footage. I didn’t care. If anything, I tried to remove the handcuffs in full view, wanting to piss him off so he’d come racing down to me. I even lifted my hands higher, so he could see exactly what I was doing, but still I was left alone.

Did I want him down here purely so I could find out what his plans were? Or did I simply want his company? I still felt swollen and a little sore between my thighs from where he’d taken me, and if I reached up to my shoulder and ran my fingers across my skin, I could feel the row of tiny bruises his teeth had left when he’d bitten me.

I pressed down on the marks, increasing the pressure, and I winced at the slight sting of pain, but instead of anger at him hurting me, an unexpected surge of lust condensed at my core. I pressed my thighs together, trying to hold onto the tingling of pleasure, the rush of wetness. I didn’t know if I wanted to feel it more, and give in to what my body wanted, or let it go and rebuke myself for my reaction.

God, I was so fucked up, and I couldn’t even completely blame Hayden. My relationship with men had always been messed up. It was hardly surprising, considering the way things had gone with the first male in my life who I’d ever loved, but I’d never convinced myself to let another man into my life far enough to develop feelings for him.

Trouble was that I’d never let Hayden into my life either. He’d barged into my life with a chloroform-soaked rag and a suit bag that might as well have been a body bag, and made that decision for me. He’d forced his way into my emotions and my body, and now I didn’t know how to get him out again. I didn’t know if I wanted to get him out again.

Yes, I did. I couldn’t allow myself to think like that. I had no intention of helping Hayden kill my father. I planned on being long gone before he even got the chance. All I needed to do was get off this goddamned island, and then I’d be able to escape and get help. Hayden wouldn’t be able to watch me all the time.

But if my father had already escaped by that point, would I still let Hayden kill him? I didn’t have to be there. The blood in my veins turned to ice at the idea of coming face to face with my father. I hadn’t seen him since I was a child, and I was more than happy with the possibility of never having to see him again. What would I even say to him? How would he look? In my mind, he just looked the same, but he’d be in his forties now and had spent years behind bars. I was sure that charismatic charm would have leached from him by now, and the years in jail would not have been kind to his looks. He’d have gray hairs and lines on his face. Would he have put on weight, or grown skinny, or would he have turned into one of those men who spent hours exercising as a way of keeping the boredom at bay? He’d never been a gym man, my father, but he’d always been physically active, working on the house or in the garden. He’d always been busy. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him just sitting back on the couch, watching television and relaxing. There always seemed to be something to do.

Of course, I knew now that his inability to relax was one of the signs of his psychopathy. He always needed to be entertained by something and was easily bored. He’d been impulsive, too, but when I was a kid, that had always seemed like a good thing. He’d randomly take me and my brother out of school and take us to a funfair instead, or to the beach. It would infuriate my mother, and portrayed her as being the bad guy, trying to spoil our fun, but now I could understand how frustrating it must have been for her to never quite know what we were doing from one day to the next. I remembered a time when I must have been about seven years old when he’d brought home a yellow Labrador puppy. My brother and I were ecstatic, but my mother was horrified. They hadn’t discussed the new addition. Arguments continued long into the night; who was going to look after it during the day when they were at work? Who would clean up after it? Who would take it for walks?

After three nights of the puppy crying endlessly and keeping everyone awake, it disappeared from our house, and our father said that the puppy missed his real family and had to go home. Of course, we both knew our mother had never wanted the dog, so deep down we’d blamed her. Now, looking back, I only hoped the poor pup really did find a new home.

So, if Hayden managed to get my father out of jail and the opportunity arose for Hayden to kill him, if I didn’t have to be there, would I let him?

Yes, I decided. I thought I would.