I’m thirsty. So damn thirsty. My entire neck feels swollen and these thick metal cuffs are digging into my wrists. I wriggle, trying to loosen something, anything, but it’s no use. He did this with the intention of keeping me in place.
I rest my head back, tears sliding down my cheeks and falling onto the red satin pillowcase.
I’m at The Grotto, but this time, I’m not watching anyone. I have no doubt someone is watching me, and that someone is most definitely Byron. There’s a camera on the ceiling pointed directly at me.
“I hate you.” I clench my teeth and hiss the words knowing he hears me. “When I get off this bed, I will kill you.”
My body jolts when a door opens then closes. Footsteps drudge in my direction, coming closer and closer as my heart beats faster and faster with each step.
Byron comes into view, wearing different clothes than when I last saw him. He’s got on a pair of gray slacks and a white dress shirt. He adjusts the buttons on one of the sleeves and rolls it up, then does the same to the other. “Good morning, Bella. Welcome back to Cori Cove.”
“You tricked me, you son of a bitch.” I was feeling sick last night. Far too woozy for one drink. “You drugged me, didn’t you?” He drugged me, then choked me out to finish me off so I was lifeless for the trip here.
“In my defense, you made it quite easy. After Callum lured you here the first time, I figured you’d be a little more vigilant. You ate right out of my hand, though.” Byron presses his hands to the mattress between my widespread legs. “Maybe you’re just hungrier than I thought you were.” He moves one hand up, then the other, crawling up the open space.
“Byron,” I say his name as a warning. “What are you doing?” I pull my hands, trying like hell to free them, even though I know I’m stuck. “Stop!” I’m not sure what he has planned, but that devilish smirk on his face says it can’t be anything good.
How could I have been so trusting? I talked to him like he was an old friend, even though I knew something felt off. You’d think I would have learned my lesson after Cal coaxed me here two months ago and wouldn’t let me leave.
Cal could be here. He could be tied up, too. Or worse, he could be part of this.
No. He wouldn’t allow this to happen. There is no way in hell he’s working with Byron this time. If Cal is here, then he’s likely restrained the same way I am.
I glower at him as his face lingers over mine. “Where is he?”
The deceiving, sweet scent of cinnamon rolls off his vile tongue. “Who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you did something to him. It all makes sense now. This was never about a partnership. You want Cal’s money and the only way to get it is to kill him. Something tells me you didn't because, otherwise, you wouldn’t have me here.”
“You know what I don’t like about you, Bella?” He enunciates my name in a way that sends chills down my sweaty spine. “You’re too perceptive. You have all these pieces scattered all over and you observe each one until you find out where it fits.”
Byron sits up, straightens his back, and digs a knee into my crotch. I make a mental note to shatter that kneecap once I’m free from this bed. “However, this time, you’re wrong and all your little pieces are floating in the bay with your boyfriend's dead corpse.”
His words are like a knife to the heart. More tears fall, but I don’t stop thrashing, trying to get one of my limbs free. I grit my teeth, glaring at him. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, I will. I always get what I want, sweet Bella.” He presses a disgusting kiss to my forehead and slides down the bed the same way he came up.
“Why are you doing this?”
Byron pulls out his phone and begins tapping into it as he speaks. “Because I deserve it. All of this should be mine. It almost was. I got rid of the one person standing in my way. Now I have the final piece to my own little puzzle,” he smiles cruelly, “you.”
My eyes pinch shut, pushing out more tears. “Did you…kill Peter?” It hurts to even say the words. I’m still not over Peter’s death. I go to sleep at night, and I still see his cold, blue face. He didn’t deserve to die, especially not like that.
I go to the sixth floor, to Peter’s room, and when he doesn’t answer, I use the key to go inside.
It’s at this moment, the world stands still. My heart stops beating, the tears stop falling, and I hold my breath before screaming at the top of my lungs, “Nooooo!”
Still clutching the dress, I snap out of the state of shock I’m in and hurry over to Peter’s lifeless body, lying in a puddle of blood on the floor.
Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can save him.
“Oh, Peter,” I choke out as I reach down and place my fingers on his cold wrist. It’s no use. He has no pulse.
Peter is dead.
I sit there next to him, crying for minutes before I finally get up to try and call for help, then it hits me. Someone did this. Peter didn’t die of natural causes. The puddle of blood is enough proof that he was murdered. Whoever did it could still be here.
I knew I should have fought harder to find out what happened to Peter. I never should have believed Byron when I saw him right after finding Peter’s body. I’m not sure if it was because I was in shock, or because I was desperate for help. Regardless, I was a fool.
“And another piece fits,” Byron says, all too cheery.
He’s referencing my puzzle pieces that he claimed were scattered in the bay with Cal’s body. It’s an admission without saying the words. He did kill Peter.
There’s a pang in my chest. But I use my heartache to fuel the fire inside me. It’s another reason for me to torture this man and make him pay miserably.
I don’t take Byron to be a complete idiot, but he seems to be ignoring one big possibility. “You know if Cal is alive, he could easily hire a new attorney and change his will.”
It’s actually ridiculous to me that Cal didn’t do that a long time ago. We never really talked much about the will, but I do know that they can easily be changed.
“Ah, but you’re wrong. Callum and I have a written contract that his will cannot be revoked. Therefore, I’d have to die before him for that to happen.” His hands rest on his chest, head tilted to the side condescendingly. “And here I am. While he is…well, dead.”
“You did something to him. I know you did.”
“Enough of this senseless conversation,” Byron continues, stuffing his phone in the front of his pants pocket. “We have company joining us and I’m going to need you to be a good girl.”
“Company? Here on the island?”
“Here, as in, this club. I’m running a business, Bella. My business.”
Is he insinuating that this hotel is up and running and there are guests? “What kind of business?” Byron disappears from view, so I shout. “What kind of business, Byron?”
He returns seconds later, and I immediately notice the collar-looking thing in his hand. “What is that?”
Coming closer, he never loses that sinister grin he’s been wearing. He looks completely deranged. Like he’s manic and lost his damn mind.