Page 5

MARGOT

“S hit,” I hiss under my breath, my shoulders slouching. I hurry back to my desk and flop down in my chair before giving the person the go ahead to “come in.”

I’ve already got lines prepared for Austin when the door opens, but he isn’t the one to walk through.

My stomach falls to the floor as a masked man steps inside my office.

My very first thought is that he must’ve read my mind. Somehow, he knew I considered sending him a nasty reply, considered shattering his delusions. And now he’s here to punish me.

I don’t move. I don’t speak. I don’t even cry as the man comes toward me, a knife pressed to his lips. I’m frozen in utter terror.

“Look at you being such a good girl,” he says, his shoulders swaying with confidence I don’t remember him having.

Because it isn’t him .

That isn’t his voice . I almost think I’ve heard wrong until the man speaks again.

“I didn’t even have to slice that old fuck’s throat to get you to shut up.”

I blink at him, not quite understanding what’s happening. I feel like a rabbit facing a dog when I was expecting a wolf.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

My sensors ring, but they’re muffled by shock. It’s like I’m hearing them under water.

As the man reaches me, I get a good look at his chocolate eyes, warm unlike the cold gray I see in my nightmares.

It really isn’t him.

The man’s gloved hand takes my chin and lifts to shut my mouth. My breathing sounds so loud in the room, so panicked. It only makes him smile, the hole in his mask displaying his enjoyment.

“I want you to listen very carefully to me, Margot. Your life depends on it.”

I slowly roll the chair backward until it bumps the wall. His voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it, and I can’t get past my confusion.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

The man’s smile falls as that same gloved hand wraps around my throat. My eyes bulge as he squeezes, and I claw uselessly at protected flesh while he leans into me until I’m so far back I think the chair may tip. I hope it tips. Because something occurs to me.

If it isn’t him, then I can scream. I can fight. I can escape .

Hell, I can even go to the police.

My eyes find the knife secured in the man’s other hand. Lack of oxygen makes it impossible to form a plan, but I know for certain that I want that blade. When I go to reach for it, my weak grasp pathetically trying to pry it from him, the masked man laughs and pulls away.

I suck in the largest breath I can ever remember taking and gasp as I hold my throat. I choke on sobs while struggling to get in air.

“ Now … I have a favor to ask. In your building is?—”

“Help!” I croak, sloppily standing from the chair.

The man’s knife is to my throat before I can so much as stumble. He shoves me back into the chair, the blade pressing against my neck. Not enough to break skin, but enough to make his point.

“Really?” The man snickers. “You’re going to risk your boyfriend’s life like that? That’s cold.”

“There are cameras in this building,” I say through sharp breaths. “An-and security.” I close my eyes as the knife digs into my skin.

The man presses his mouth to my ear. “I guess it’s good I’m wearing a mask then.” He chuckles lightly, warm breath tickling my neck. The knife against my throat is the only thing that keeps me from jerking away.

It’s the oddest, most delusional thing, but I feel a surge of therapeutic hope mix in with terror. I’m scared for my life. There’s no doubt about it. But one call from Austin to security will make this man disappear. This problem disappear.

I can seek help. Join a support group. Talk to a counselor.

Am I really this fucking broken?

When the man’s tongue flicks my earlobe, I gasp, pressing my hands against his hard chest.

“You know what?” He inhales like he’s smelling me. “You’re right. We need more privacy.”

My eyes bulge at the enthusiasm in his voice. The knife leaves me, but I’m only awarded a moment of relief before the man grips my blouse and yanks me to my feet. He shoves me in front of him and presses himself against my back, his erection evident through his jeans.

He leads me by the back of my neck out of the office, into the hallway and down toward the stairwell.

With every moment that passes, he morphs into a more vicious breed of dog.

The security I feel begins to slip away, making me feel crazy for ever feeling it to begin with.

There’s one increasingly real possibility I didn’t give enough thought.

What if he kills me?

What if he came here to kill me?

What reason could he have?

“I’ll do whatever you say,” I push out, making my voice as loud as I think he’ll tolerate. “J-just don’t hurt me.” My eyes dart around as we move, praying for someone to appear. Maybe it makes me selfish. I don’t know.

“What are you looking for?” the man asks while my head swivels.

“Nothing.”

“Here, let me help... Hey, Austin! Margot needs you!”

I grind to a halt and dart my eyes frantically. The man’s confidence sounds both reckless and terrifying.

He isn’t afraid to get caught.

He won’t hesitate to slice Austin’s throat, just like he promised.

Which means he isn’t hesitant to slit mine either.

Oh my?—

My thoughts halt at the man’s loud laugh, and I stumble when he shoves me forward. “Jesus, you really thought I’d walk you through here with your boyfriend waiting like a protective rottweiler in his office?”

My veins freeze over. I know Austin. He wouldn’t have just left without saying anything.

“What did you do to him?” I ask, my voice warbled with terror.

“Walk and maybe I’ll tell you.”

A new wave of dread stiffens my limbs as I let him guide me to the stairwell and up to the roof. Chilly air spreads bumps on my exposed flesh when we step outside, and I cross my arms over my chest, streaks of tears cooling my face.

“There, I came where you wanted.” I dig my heels in. “N-now tell me what you did to Austin.”

“Walk to the ledge.”

I struggle to stand in place as he tries to push me. When I speak, it’s nothing but a chilled whisper. “Why?”

“Because I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Lips trembling, I do as he says, but I’m not so sure he won’t just kill me anyway.

“I-I have money in my purse, and I can get more from the ATM down the block. There’s a petty cash fund?—”

He shoves me so I fall flat on the ledge, my hands pressed against cold concrete to brace myself. My body is stiff as iron, but it must not weigh as much because the man easily lifts me by my waist.

I shriek as he hauls me over the concrete barrier, my belly sliding forward until my midsection feels nothing but air.

As I look down twenty-one stories at the sidewalk below, I scream so loud and so long that my throat begins to burn.

He has me by my ankles and slides me farther off the ledge until I’m dangling, the only thing keeping me from splatting on the concrete below is his grip.

Panic tears at every cell in my body while I flail and screech into dead air that swallows up my protests. If there are people below, they can’t hear me. They certainly can’t get to me in time.

“Please,” I cry, trying to keep my body still while closing my eyes. Tears slip through the closed lids and fall to their death. “Please, please, please, I’ll do anything you want. Anything!”

When my weight shifts in his hold, I scrunch up my body in anticipation for the drop.

I’ve never spent a second more horrified.

All I can think, my last thought presumably, is that I’m a damn fool.

He’s ruined me to the point where even at my death, it’s him I stupidly feared.

Him who made me underestimate real danger.

This man is no dog. He isn’t even a wolf. He’s the fucking devil.

The man drags me back onto the ledge, back to the delusional sense of safety.

When my cotton-covered belly flattens on concrete, I’m flipped over, my knees spreading as far as the pencil skirt will allow at the insistence of the man’s brutal hands.

He uses his knife to tear a slit up my skirt so he can situate himself against my lacy-covered opening.

I can feel his erection bulging through his pants, mere cloth protecting me. I can’t even feel disgusted by it. Can’t feel anything but the quaky fear of him throwing me off this ledge.

“Are you ready to listen now?” he asks, leaning so we’re face-to-face. His breath smells like cigarettes, and it makes me think of the butts I found on my back patio.

I nod profusely. “Y-yes.”

He smiles while taking me in, his head tilting. He’s enjoying every second of this, and I don’t know what that means for me. If I should be more or less afraid.

“There’s a man in your firm named Henry Duncan.

Recently, he turned down work for someone very dear to me, and you’re going to convince him to make it right.

I know where you sleep. I know where you park your red coupe.

I know everything I need to know to come back and hurt you if you don’t get this done. ”

He shows me his knife then flips it around so he’s holding the blade. When he pushes my panties aside, I gasp at the sudden cool air, but it’s a butterfly kiss in comparison to what he does a moment later.

My core tenses as the man inserts the rough surface of the knife’s handle into me, not stopping until he’s assaulted every inch of me possible without the sharp metal cutting. My mouth opens, but my cry is so strangled, hardly anything comes out.

“Can you guess how I’ll choose to hurt you, Margot?

” he asks while he saws the handle inside of me.

My thoughts of falling fade until all I can think about is his assault on my body.

The idea of the man turning the knife around and fucking me with the blade feels like such a real possibility that I lie perfectly still and don’t utter a breath of protest.

When he pulls the handle out, I still can’t breathe. I’m paralyzed as I watch him bring it to his open mouth. He licks the handle with a savage groan that feels personal. So much bigger than a job his friend wants Henry to do.

He winks at me as he clicks the knife shut.

“You have twenty-four hours.”

The promise of tomorrow doesn’t register in his words until he turns and heads back to the stairwell, leaving me on the ledge fear-stricken and violated. I slowly sit up and wrap my arms around myself. Tears and snot run cold on my face while I try to pull myself together.

Henry .

They want Henry .

He’ll do it. I have no question he’ll do it, even if I don’t tell him about what just happened. The man is a sweetheart. He’d do whatever you asked just because you said please.

After giving myself a few more minutes to cry, I hop off the ledge and tread back down the stairs to Austin’s office, shaking at what I might see. I close my eyes while I work up the courage to open his door.

Holding my breath, I turn the knob and peek inside to find it empty. When I go back to my office, I find my phone and see a picture Austin texted me. Somebody smashed his car windows. He’s with the police now.

I sink until I’m a sobbing mess on my office floor, my skirt ruined, my makeup smeared.

It’s minutes before I realize I’m not crying anymore because of what the man did. Or even because of what he might do. I’m crying because I’m tired. After seven years, I’m so, so tired. Suddenly, it feels terribly naive that I planned to sleep here tonight.

As if there’s anywhere I could be safe.