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As Aurora drifts off, I can’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over me. I don’t want anything hurting her, not even her own thoughts.

Heading down to the basement, my mind wanders to Mr Maxwell, the son of a bitch stinking up my cool room. I should have cleaned him up the other day before I raced to the Gold Coast, but there wasn’t time. Now, his lifeless body lies on the cold floor in the makeshift refrigerator room, waiting for disposal.

“Let’s get this shit done,” I mutter to myself, rolling up my sleeves and grabbing the necessary tools. I can’t have any loose ends.

As I work on dismembering the body, blood splatters on my arms and clothes, mixing with the sweat on my brow. It’s a gruesome task, but one I’ve done many times before. This is nothing new to me.

Once the body is all chopped and bagged up, I head back upstairs, hoping Aurora is still sleeping so I can grab a quick shower without her seeing me covered in blood for the second day in a row.

Chapter Twelve

Aurora Henry

Sydney looms before us, a city of shattered dreams and buried memories. I grit my teeth as the plane descends, the weight of what awaits me settling heavily in my chest. Felix sits next to me as still as the fucking grave.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice dripping with concern—fake-ass concern. His dark eyes search mine, looking for something that isn’t there. Trust? Fuck no.

“Fine,” I say, not bothering to meet his gaze. A storm brews inside me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it. He’s just waiting for an excuse to unleash his violent nature. Like everyone else, he’ll hit me. Just one wrong move and I’ll know it.

“Here, have some water,” he says, trying to sound kind. It grates on my nerves like sandpaper against my skin. He hands me a small bottle, cold droplets condensing on the outside. I take it, avoiding his touch. I don’t want him touching me, not ever again. My body cannot be trusted.

“Thanks,” I mutter, as insincere as his concern. I drink the water, cold and tasteless. It doesn’t quench my thirst and leaves me feeling emptier than before.

Staring out the window, I see a cold blue sky stretching above the city, a cruel joke of freedom. I’m not free. Never have been. And Felix thinks he can own me? He has no idea what that means to me.

“Welcome to Sydney,” comes the announcement over the speakers. Yeah, welcome back to hell. The plane touches down, and I brace myself for the impact. But it doesn’t come. Just like Felix, waiting for that one wrong move.

“Here we go,” Felix says, standing up as we walk out the gate. “Let’s get our stuff and head home.”

Home, the word is like venom. It’ll never be my home, not with the memories lurking in every shadow.

So, I follow Felix off the plane and into the heart of Sydney, a place I once loved and now dread. My heart pounds hard like a caged animal desperate for escape, but there’s no escape now.

The car pulls up to the fucking mansion, and I can’t help but gawk at it. It’s huge, like something out of a movie. A place I’d drive past and wish I could live in.

“Here we are,” Felix says, unbuckling his seat belt.

Stepping out of the car, the gravel beneath my feet crunches as I follow him towards the house. He unlocks the front door and gestures for me to go in first. “After you, Aurora.”

“Thanks,” I say, stepping into the grand entryway. My footsteps echo against the marble floors as I take in the somewhat tasteful décor. Whoever designed this place knewwhat they were doing. It’s a shame the owner is a fucking psycho.

“Let me show you our room,” Felix says, leading me through the house. My heart races with dread. What kind of torture chamber does he have in store for me? But when he opens the door, I’m taken aback. It’s just… a bedroom.

“Here it is,” he says, standing aside so I can get a better look. “I hope you like it.”

Like isn’t the word I’d use. More like hate. It’s so masculine, all dark wood and leather. It makes me want to gut it and change everything. If I have to sleep in here, maybe he’ll let me switch things up, not that I have much choice.

I climb on the bed, the plush mattress sinking beneath my weight. Fuck Felix and his taste in beds—it’s too soft for my liking. I pull the heavy covers over my body, burying myself in their suffocating warmth.

Felix disappears down the hall, off to some goddamn basement he’s got hidden away. As soon as he’s gone, a wave of depression crashes into me, dragging me under. My mind is flooded with memories I’ve tried so hard to drown out.

“Shit,” I mutter, curling into a tight ball. My body feels like lead, every muscle aching with exhaustion. I fight to keep my eyes open, but they’re already sliding shut, heavy like iron gates closing against my will.

“Fuck you, Felix,” I whisper into the darkness, even though he can’t hear me. “You don’t fucking own me.”

Running water startles me awake sometime later. I don’t even realise I drifted off. Felix must be back now, taking a shower in the en suite bathroom.

My body tenses, a part of me wanting to turn over andsee if I can catch a glimpse of him through the cracked door. But another part of me is disgusted by how my body reacts to this man who claims to own me. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the intrusive thoughts.