Page 32 of Unholy Vows

Layla

T hings had gone awry.

We hadn’t considered the possibility that I could be moved to a second location. Now, facing down a serial killer without one of my own, I realized how foolish that had been.

I’d watched in horror as two men had accosted Malachai when he'd tried to intervene. The fight that followed had been messy and brutal.

I didn’t even know whether he was still alive after what I had witnessed.

But I couldn’t think about Malachai right now.

I was on my own, and I had to escape.

That thought sent a pulse of fear racing through my body.

Scanning the room, I searched for anything that could help, but it was empty. All I could see was the chair I was bound to and an old leather couch, half its stuffing missing.

A damp metallic scent filled my nostrils, and I realized with frightening alarm that I wasn’t the first person to be brought here. Discolored patches of carpet surrounded me, and I had to fight the bile rising in my throat.

Panic squeezed my chest, and I struggled against the ropes that bound my wrists. The unforgiving bite of the restraints chafed against my already raw skin.

“Welcome to my sanctuary,” a menacing voice rumbled from behind me.

My struggles quickly died away as the man from the club came into view. He looked different now with his blonde hair tousled and falling into his eyes, no longer slicked back. He’d swapped out his tailored suit for a pair of grey joggers and a black t-shirt.

My subconscious screamed at me that there was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place it. The trolley he had rolled in with him had claimed all of my attention, and I wasn’t able to think past the rows of knives, scalpels, and saws occupying my vision.

“Look at me.”

A single flickering bulb buzzed above me, and my eyes flew to it.

It was too bright, yet not bright enough.

The light cast shadows along the walls, and my mind played tricks on me.

Lumbering monsters rose from the darkness, their snarling features outlined against the stark plywood.

A gnarled hand reached for me, and my breath became choppy.

“I said, look at me.”

The man above me gripped my chin, angling my head toward him.

The action broke my focus.

When I glanced back at the shadows once more, that’s all they were — shadows. There were no more monsters trying to reach me from the darkness.

No, the only monster in the room was the one hovering above me.

He stared down at me, eyes intent as if searching for something.

“Remember me.”

It wasn’t a question, but a command.

One I failed to heed.

The man growled before his free hand went sailing through the air until it collided with my cheek.

My head whipped to the side, and I could hear a faint humming sound. Darkness encroached on the corners of my vision, and a sharp copper taste exploded on my tongue.

He had a hell of a backhand.

I shook my head to clear my vision as I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. It was split, just as I had expected.

“Do you believe in redemption?”

His words were clipped. Again, it wasn’t a question.

But I had no clue what he was asking me.

Awareness prickled at the back of my mind, and a faint memory surfaced as I struggled to ignore the throbbing pain in my cheek. The whiskey-smooth voice, the too-intense stare… I’d met this man before.

My gaze raked over his appearance.

It was the hair that finally triggered my recollection. The floppy blonde mop that gave him a disheveled look only added to his appeal.

Then all the pieces slid into place.

“You.”

“Me,” he beamed.

“I ran into you at that bar.”

“Yes!”

He took a step back, pleased with my progress. His body vibrated with excitement, and that made me more nervous than when he had rolled in the trolley of sharp implements.

The man was unhinged.

“Are you —”

My words fell away as my mouth grew dry.

I swallowed thickly before trying again. “Are you The Boston Phantom?”

His eyes glittered with satisfaction, and a slow smile curved his lips, sending ice through my veins.

“You remember me.”

His tone was soft, almost relieved.

I hesitated.

His reaction seemed to hint at a deeper recognition than merely a man I met at a bar.

My cheek still throbbed from the last time I’d displeased him; I wasn’t eager for a second.

Instead, I gave a curt nod, afraid my voice would betray me.

He crouched in front of me, his elbows resting on his knees as he peered up at me with... longing?

“When you walked into that pub, I could scarcely believe my eyes. After all these years. There you were. Standing before me like a fallen angel.”

My brow furrowed as my mind searched for anything to explain why I was here. Why had he fixated on me? His fingers brushed under the hem of my dress, pulling me from my musings with a jolt. Memories from the night of my assault came crashing back, and I stiffened.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Please what, angel?”

The moniker made my stomach roil with revulsion.

“Please let you go. Please don’t hurt you. Please pretend we don’t already know how this ends.”

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The grin lighting up his harsh features told me he would enjoy that far too much.

“I’ve waited a long time for this moment. This is something I should have done years ago.”

Terror gnawed at my insides as he reached for the scalpel resting on the trolley. He raised it toward the light, inspecting it with unnerving intensity.

“Do you remember how you begged me to stop?”

His words were only a whisper, as if recalling a fond memory.

The room swayed, and the air vanished from my lungs.

“I’m sorry?”

His smirk widened.

“You do, don’t you?”

He turned to look at me as he rose to his full height.

I never saw my attacker’s face. I wouldn’t have recognized him if I had passed him in the street or… if I sat next to him at the bar.

My chest squeezed painfully, and I fought my rising panic as I forced myself to inhale.

The sound of my boots clicking against the hard, tiled ground, my torn dress, and my aching body… it was all I could see, all I could concentrate on.

I’d spent years scanning the faces of everyone I encountered, searching for him .

And now, here he was.

“I should have finished it then. I should have made sure you never got up from that floor.”

His gaze was far away as he relived the moment that plagued my nightmares.

“I searched for you,” he said as his fingers traced the back of the scalpel, and my breath hitched as I suppressed a sob. “Every woman I’ve taken since then, they’ve all been you, angel.”

My fight wavered, and a broken sob tore from my throat.

“Shh.”

His voice was tender as he smoothed my hair. A complete contrast to his earlier aggression.

“Same hair, same eyes, same intoxicating scent of fear,” he continued. “But it was never enough, because they weren’t you.”

“You… The Boston Phantom… you did all of that… because of me?”

His smile softened, becoming almost affectionate.

“I had to find you. To finish what we started together. You were my first, angel. I had to fix my mistake so my legacy would endure.”

He pressed his palm against my cheek, tilting my face until I met his gaze.

“And then you walked into that bar. It was like divine intervention. My second chance… but you slipped away again, same as before.”

His expression turned dark at the memory.

“So, imagine my surprise when you showed up at that club tonight. It was meant to be. You are my destiny, and I am yours. You’ll be my redemption. My deliverance from failure.”

I tried to pull away from him, but he dug his nails into my cheek as his face darkened with rage.

“You should be grateful,” he seethed.

“Grateful?”

“You’re the woman who started it all, and now you get to witness my ascension.”

“You’re insane,” I said through trembling lips.

He shrugged, unperturbed, then released my cheeks and leaned in.

His lips ghosted over mine as he said, “You won’t get away this time, angel. Not again.”

He raised the scalpel, and a terrified scream clawed its way up my throat.