My palms are slick with sweat. Adrenaline buzzes through me, and my pulse drums in my ears. I glance at the bay windows that don’t open, my heart sinking into the very pit of my stomach. He’s going to kill you.
I jump up from the desk, my chair falling to the floor with a loud bang. I take off down the hall and run into my bedroom. Edwin comes storming from his room just as I slam my door closed and lock it, pressing my back against it as I attempt to catch my breath. The door shakes behind me.
“Miranda…” he says in a low growl. The door handle jiggles.
My eyes lock on the window and I run to it then throw the curtains back. A small gasp leaves my lips when my gaze lands on the lock. I quickly turn it and try to push the old window up, but it doesn’t budge. “Fuck!”
“Miranda.” There’s a loud thud behind the door. “I told you that when you find the person you love, you can’t ever let them slip away, dear.” Another wham against the door. “And—” He grunts with another whack at the door, this time wood splitting. The curved blade of a hatchet smashes through the door just before Edwin’s fist comes slamming through.
I scream, tears pouring down my cheeks as I push against the damn window. “Fucking move. Open, goddammit.”
I use all of my weight and the window barely lifts, the sill creaking as I glance over my shoulder. I watch his fingers grab at the lock and twist it. The door flies open and slams against the wall.
Edwin’s face is splotchy-red, his eyes wide when his broad frame steps over the threshold and into the room.
“Please…” I turn and place my back against the wall as I scoot in the opposite direction of him. “Please, Edwin… I…”
“So you do beg,” he says with a laugh.
He steps toward me and I clamber across the bed, nearly tripping when I jump to the floor. I just make it to the doorway, my fingers gripping the busted frame in an attempt to get into the hallway more quickly, but his hand grips my shoulder, yanking me back into the room. I trip and fall. My knees bang against the hard floor, pain splintering down my shins.
“Please,” I whisper, knowing how cliché and pathetic it sounds, but when you’re at the mercy of another person, it’s the only word you can find.
Edwin fists my hair and violently drags me to my feet with a groan. “I really hate to be like this with you. Really I do.” He shoves me by the back of the head into the hallway. “Walk. Don’t hesitate.”
I’m in full on sobs when we reach the front door, and he places the key in the lock. The latch clicks, and that sound echoes in my mind, my knees threatening to buckle. The door swings open, slamming against the wall as the cold night air wraps around me, making my already tense muscles grow more rigid. Edwin pushes for me to walk down the steps, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he turns me toward that fucking shed.
The wind picks up. The waning moon illuminates the heavy gray storm clouds, making them pop against the black sky. Twigs snap underneath my bare feet. Pebbles and rocks cut into my heels. A low groan of thunder rumbles through the sky just as a few cold drops of rain hit my arms.
“You know, Miranda, I thought you’d have figured this out by now, but sometimes, well, sometimes I guess fate doesn’t slap both people in the face hard enough, huh?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
He comes to an abrupt halt, and his already unbearably hard grip on my hair tightens, my scalp burning as several strands are ripped loose. My knees go weak, and I nearly collapse. Maybe I would have had he not had such a hold on my hair. Edwin tugs my hair and brings my face within centimeters of his. For a few terrifying seconds, all he does is stare at me, into me, through me. Part of me fears that, in this moment, he’s taken a piece of me, that he’s ripped a part of my humanity from me with that look alone.
“You and I, we are one. We belong together. My words should be yours and yours mine. Fate put you here for me.” He inches even closer, his lips now resting against mine. “The sooner you see that…”
His words are lost when he presses his mouth against mine. I attempt to pull my lips in tight, to resist him, but he twists and knots my hair. The second I go to scream, he kisses me harder, slipping his tongue inside my mouth.
Before I can react to that, he’s backed away, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “See?”
And what do you do in a situation such as this? I try to think of a way to escape, but the thing is, I’ve read every one of the man’s books. Every last sick and twisted word. I know how his mind works, and sadly, I know there is no way out. There never is. In every book—there is never an escape.
He keeps one hand tight in my hair as he pushes a key into the padlock hung from the door of the shed. The latch opens, and the lock falls to the ground before he opens the door and shoves me inside the pitch-black shed.