“Why are you doing this? I’m saving you.”
“No, you’re kidnapping me!” I yell, spitting in his face, and he growls as his fist slams down on my face. It stuns me long enough that he’s able to grab both of my hands and tape them together before doing the same to my ankles. As he picks me up from the floor and carries me over to the kitchen table, I glare at him.
He sets me down in a chair and crouches down in front of me, running a hand over my face. “Why did you make me do this, Sweet Girl? What did he do to you to make you think I was the evil in your life?”
“He didn’t have to do anything. I saw it all on my own,” I spit, and he stands, sighing as he starts pacing through the kitchen.
“It’s gotta be like some kind of Stockholm syndrome, right?” he mutters to himself, glancing at me. He comes back over to me and kneels in front of my chair. “You have to remember, Baby.”
When I don’t say anything, he sighs and drops his head.
“Remember when we first met, Angel? We sat across from each other on that deck, and our connection was so strong.”
I’m about to tell him that he’s delusional when a memory hits me, and I tilt my head as I look at him. There’s only one person that I can remember sitting on a deck with in recent memory but he doesn’t look anything like him. I squint, trying to imagine him with a mop of light brown hair instead of the straight dark hair he has now, and he smiles.
I gasp.
“Zach?” I ask, my mind racing as I think over my entire dinner with him. What on earth is he talking about though? He was nice but there was no connection. None at all.
“Yes, Baby,” he exclaims, grabbing my face in his hands. “You remember, don’t you? The very moment we met; I knew what we have is so special.”
I shake my head. “We didn’t have a connection. I had dinner with you once, and I haven’t seen you again.”
“No. That’s not true. We were inseparable until he took you away from me.”
I glance up at him, and the earnest look on his face makes me rethink my approach. I just need to get away from him. Maybe if I play along…
“I remember,” I whisper, and he smiles, his entire face lighting up.
“You do?”
I nod, forcing a smile to my face as I peek up at him. “Yes, I do.”
“Oh, Angel,” he says, leaning forward and caressing my cheek. He leans in to kiss me but stops. “Let me clean you up, Baby. I’m so sorry that I had to do this.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” I say, choking back the bile that is fighting its way up from my little act. He comes back with a wet washcloth and starts cleaning the blood off my face. I hiss as he brushes my nose, and I already know that it’s broken.
“I’m so sorry, Angel. When we get out of here, we’ll get you fixed up. But we have to hurry.”
Once I’m clean, he leans down and smiles as he presses his lips to mine. My body retches, desperately wanting to get away from him but I take a deep breath and force myself to kiss him back. It’s the only way it will work.
“Why did you use a different name?” I ask, the question nagging me as I watch him.
“I had to, Sweetheart. If you had known it was me, you wouldn’t have been scared and he would have known. I had to keep you safe.”
“And your hair?”
“I had to make myself look similar to him so the neighbors wouldn’t question me coming and going from your house. Everything I did was to keep you safe, Ali.” He pulls away and stands me up, leaning down and cutting the tape around my ankles.
“Baby,” I whisper when he stands back up, reaching up and brushing my fingers over his cheek. His whole body shudders, and I want to scream. “This is hurting me.”
He looks down at the tape around my wrists and nods. “Of course, Angel. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”
He cuts the tape and peels it away from my skin, leaning down and pressing kisses against my wrists as my stomach rolls, and I close my eyes. He grabs my hand.
“Let’s go home. Okay?” he asks, and I nod, looking toward the front door. If I can just get outside, I can make a run for it. I’ll scream the whole damn neighborhood down if I have to. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and starts leading me outside. I take a deep breath as I fiddle with my ring, and he glances down.
“What the fuck is that?” he seethes, grabbing it and pulling it up to his face to inspect it. “He was forcing you to marry him?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, and tears slip down my cheeks as I nod. He’ll think I’m crying because I’m scared of Logan but denying my love for him even when my life is in danger is the real reason for my tears.
“Take it off,” he says, trying to grab it, and I yank my hand away, taking a step back as I shake my head. “What are you doing? Take that fucking ring off, Ali.”
“No,” I whisper, backing up again. He reaches out and wraps an arm around my waist before I can get away and pulls me into his body.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going? I want his ring off your finger.”
I shake my head. I don’t care what he does to me – I won’t take Logan’s ring off. “No.”
His eyes narrow, and he studies me for a second before his gaze goes cold, taking on an evil quality that makes me tremble in his arms. Reaching behind his back, he pulls a gun out of his waistband, and I gasp. “You were lying to me the entire time, weren’t you?”
“No. No, I wasn’t,” I gasp, shaking my head as I hold my hands up. He presses the gun against my head and spins me around so my back is to his front as he pushes us toward the front door.
“We’re leaving, and I swear to God, if you try to get away from me, I will shoot you.”
“So much for loving me,” I mutter, my filter completely shut off right now. He presses his cheek to mine, his lips brushing against my ear as the cold barrel of the gun presses into my forehead.
“I do love you, Angel, but I’d rather lose you to death than to that piece of shit. Besides, if you go, I won’t be far behind you, and then we can be together again. Forever.”
My blood runs cold, and my stomach rolls. The only thing worse than hell is forever with him, no matter where that forever is served.
Glancing over at the gun that’s digging into my forehead, I notice that the safety is still on, and his hand is wrapped firmly around the grip. I let out a breath, sending a giant thank you to my dad for teaching me about guns as I elbow him in the ribs and spin away from him, running down the hallway. I can hear him wheezing behind me, and then his boots are slapping against the floor as he follows behind me.
“Don’t make me do this, Ali!” he yells behind me just as I make it into the kitchen and glance behind me. He fires the gun. A burning pain tears through my arm, and I cry out as I spin around to face him. I cover the wound and blood bubbles over my fingers, running down my arm and dripping onto the floor. He creeps into the kitchen, gun trained on me as his gaze flicks down to my arm. I use it to my advantage, charging toward him and tackling him. We fall to the floor, and he quickly rolls on top of me, pointing the gun to my chest.
As I fight him, I imagine my life with Logan. Our wedding, the kids we’ll have, raising them out on the property, and tears sting my eyes as I realize I might lose all that.