Page 75 of Under Your Scars

If I’m ever going to see the sun come up again, I have to beat him at his own game. I do my best to soften my face despite the ice-cold fear in my chest and knit my brows together. I raise my voice and octave and begin to whine against the tape covering my mouth.

That catches his attention, and he leans over to get closer to my face. “What’s wrong, angel?” he taunts, and it takes considerable effort not to snarl back.

From under the tape, I whine, wiggling my hands behind my back for emphasis.

“It hurts?” he asks, and I nod. I quietly sigh in relief when he leans over with the knife, and I expect him to cut off the ties that have my hands and feet connected. It’s not like I can run away with my ankles still tied together.

I cry out in pain when he tightens the ties instead.

“Nice try. Playing with my soft spot for you. I’m touched, truly.” He clutches his chest in feigned awe. “You’re going to stay like that all night. Sweet dreams.”

I don’t know at what point I simply gave up and fell asleep awkwardly tied up on the floor, but it must have been after hours and hours of fighting because my body fucking hurts.

We make eye contact, and I snarl at him. He rolls his eyes and cuts all the ties to let my limbs free, and I gasp at the sudden mobility. I scramble away from him. The burning ache in my limbs makes it impossible to walk, so I crawl until I reach the other side of the room. There’s no way I can make it to the door without him catching me.

I rip the tape off my mouth, and like I’ve just drilled a hole through a dam, I shatter. I start sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. My hands grasp at my chest and hair and my entire body is trembling.

Something changes in the room. The tension breaks and suddenly, he’s rushing to my side and cradling my cheeks in his hands. I shove him away as hard as I can.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I growl, cowering against the wall, still sobbing.

“Elena, I—”

“Shut up! I hate you! Get away from me you sick fuck! You’re a twisted fucking psychopath, and I hope you die. I hope you never experience love or happiness, and you die young and alone.”

I shakily stand and waddle towards the door, my knees buckling after being in an uncomfortable position all night. Two large hands wrap around my waist, and I start thrashing again. “Let me go!” I cry through gritted teeth, emotionally exhausted.

“Elena, look at me,” he demands into my neck. His grip against me is firm, but not rough or angry.

I turn around and shove against him, but he only tightens his grip on me. More frustrated tears fall down my face and I avoid his intense glare.

“Look. At. Me.”

I bare my teeth and meet his eyes, ready to rip him apart for what he did to me, but something stops me dead in my tracks. I freeze, the whole world seeming to disappear until it’s just me and him.

Looking down at me isn’t a set of artificial green eyes, but a set of dazzling blue. Bright and vibrant and dynamic like the ocean. A vivid shade of aquamarine stands brilliantly against the dark paint in his eye sockets. They’re devastatingly beautiful.

My face turns down into a scowl as I look away. “Let me go.”

“I went too far, and I am sorry.”

“You’resorry?” I repeat, disgusted.

I make a split-second decision that I’m absolutely going to regret, but I want him out of my life. I wrap my fingers around the handle of one of his guns and shove him away from me with one hand and then point the gun at him with the other. He steps towards me, and I take one step back.

“Don’t fucking move,” I warn. “I grew up in a gun-loving state with a father who spent thirteen years in the Army. He taught me how to shoot pistols when I was a teenager. I’m a good shot. I could hit you between the eyes with mine closed.”

The Silencer puts up his hands in surrender, but I know if I give him even a second of opportunity, he’s going to take advantage of it and take back his gun before I can blink.

“What the fuck do you want with me? What is your endgame? You…you expect me to fall in love with you or something?”

His distractingly pretty blue eyes darken. His hands are still up by his head, but he relaxes his stance like I don’t have a gun pointed at his fucking forehead right now.

“Yes, I want you to love me. I want…no, Ineedto be youreverything.”

I laugh sarcastically, because how could I love someone like him? “Why am I so important to you?”

“Because you saved my life.”