Page 13 of Bound to a Killer

Sheer, black terror sweeps through me after he wedges a knee into the backs of my legs, forcing me to stumble forward. His blade-free arm clamps around my bicep to stop me from tripping or bolting as he steers me away from the kitchen.

No.

God, please—no.

The double doors loom ahead, massive and imposing, coming into view as we round the final curve of the spiral staircase. Their grandeur feels monstrous in the dark, like I’m staring into the gate of hell itself. With every step closer, the threshold swells in my vision. Once I cross it, there’s no coming back.

I know it. I can’t just leave like this. Not without a trace. Not without a fight.

My stomach twists.

Do something, Aria. Anything.

Please.

My chest tightens, the pounding close to fracturing my ribs. Every step brings me closer to my impending doom. I can feel it in my bones. Whatever waits beyond these doors will strip me down to nothing. Resistance wells up inside me, but it’s fleeting, dissolving like steam into the night as we reach the front of the house and he wrenches the door open.

No. No. No.

This can’t be happening to me. It just can’t.

I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look, to acknowledge that this is real. Tears leak past my clenched eyelids, soaking my tongue with the taste of despair as I find myself praying for the first time in years.

God, if you’re out there…please. Just this once. I won’t doubt you again. Please. God. Please.

I pray with everything in me.

Then a sharp gust of wind sweeps between my legs, icy and merciless. My body shudders, but I don’t collapse. Not yet. I needed to stay strong.

My brief burst of faith rapidly diminishes to nothing.

Nobody is going to stop this.

The moment we step into the open air, the cold hits me hard. Sharp. Biting. Relentless. It cuts through the thin silk clinging to my body, offering no protection. The wind licks at every inch of uncovered skin, seeping through my dainty sleepwear until I’ve frosted over like one of the overthrown members of the Titanic, but even that doesn’t chill me like the sight of the car parked two houses down, waiting across the quiet road.

A vaguely familiar BMW idles in the shadows, its headlights flashing once as he jerks me in its direction. “Start walking,” he says, tightening his grip on my arm as he urges us forward, not wanting to spare an extra second out in the open.My legs stay rigid, hesitant, but I’m forced to conform as I stutter forward.

My stomach flips at the deep rumble of his voice when he speaks again. I know that voice.

That black car.

It can’t be. But ithasto be.

A bitter film coats my tongue. Somehow, that makes everything worse. If my thoughts are right, it means none of this is random, and that idea fills me with something far beyond dread. The implication is terrifying.

What does he want with me?

Where is he taking me?

He reaches around me and yanks the door open. “Get in.”

I shake my head hard, blinking forcefully as I try to will the tears out of my vision, but instead, they rush forward with a burning force. I need to reason with him. Convince him this is a mistake.

With a strangled breath, I turn to face the threat behind me. Ice clamps around my chest as our eyes meet.

The confirmation clicks. It really is him.

He pins me with a look that halts every muscle in my body, my spine arching back as far as it can go without toppling into the car. I thought I was ready to brace for this, to confront whatever emotion I’d find swirling in those almost translucent irises I once thought of as beautiful. I was prepared to face aggression, rage, maybe even contempt.