Page 10 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Ten

Sailor

“What the actual hell!!” I shout at the top of my lungs, slamming my fists and feet against the mattress. I haven’t been this angry in a long, long time and I have no idea how to calm down. I’m panicking. Furious. Raging!

My journal is gone. This psychopath is holding it hostage, and the only way to get it back is to answer his damn questions? What the hell is that?! It’s blackmail! This is worse than him reading my journal in its entirety. The things in my head are worse than what I had the bravado to write down.

Of course I could lie, but I’m terrible at lying! I won’t be able to keep anything straight, and if he finds out, who knows what the hell he’ll do? How do I know he hasn’t made copies of the journal to blackmail me with further?

I bury my face in the pillow and scream. My throat burns and my head pounds, but I let it all out, shouting until I don’t have a voice anymore.

And then, the strangest thing happens.

The doorbell rings.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse…

My first thought is, who the hell could be here? But then I worry it’s the guy who’s holding my journal hostage! What if he knows where I live and he’s here to, like… I don’t know, torture me or something?

Does he think because I have these dark thoughts that it’s okay for him to just do things to me? I still have rights! I need to agree on who I want to do those things to me. It isn’t an open invitation for anyone to show up.

Okay, Sailor. Calm down. You’re being irrational now. Absolutely ridiculous.

There is no way I put my address in that book. I may have slipped up and put a username, but definitely not an address. And I don’t have any personal information on my profile, so he doesn’t know who I am, and therefore couldn’t find where I live. Maybe I ordered something I forgot about.

The doorbell rings again, and I get up from the bed, run my fingers through my hair, and walk to the front door. I know better than to open it to someone I don’t know, especially at this time of night, so I look through the peephole.

My hands come to my mouth as I gasp, stepping back and hitting the closet door behind me, making a loud thud.

Shit, shit, shit!

With my hand still covering my mouth, I step forward to look through the hole again, and this time, instead of being shocked, I’m angry. Even angrier than I was earlier.

Why the hell is Sam standing on my doorstep?