22. Tilly

22

TILLY

I drag my feet beside Phoenix, feeling like I’m walking through quicksand. The weight of my defeat pulls me down, each step a struggle.

Phoenix is insane, and the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I’ve never felt so trapped, so utterly helpless. His threat to put me underground looms over me like a dark cloud.

I imagine being buried, enclosed in a small space with no way out, and my heart pounds. I start to question if I even want to escape him anymore.

He tightens his grip on my arm, pulling me closer.

I recall the way he just made me come on his cock in the woods, the intensity of my orgasm. My cheeks burn at the memory, and a part of me craves that feeling again.

It’s sick and twisted, but I can’t deny he’s dredging up feelings I didn’t know I had, which scares me.

I glance at him, taking in his sharp jawline and the tattoos that adorn his muscular arms. There’s something about him that draws me in, even as I fear him and hate him.

I try to understand the complex mix of emotions swirling inside me—fear, desire, and confusion. It’s like being on a rollercoaster, my stomach dropping as we reach the peak before plummeting downward.

My mind races as I contemplate my next move. Do I keep trying to escape, knowing the futility of it all? Or do I resign myself to my fate, to being his captive? I think of how he touches me, the sparks that ignite in my body despite my efforts to resist.

I slow my steps, my feet feeling like lead. “I won’t ever run again, Phoenix.” My voice is quiet. “But please don’t take me underground. I’m scared of the dark.” The words slip out before I can stop them, exposing my deepest fear.

The tension between us is palpable. I brace myself for his reaction, for the storm to erupt. But instead, Phoenix’s eyes soften, searching mine. He hesitates, and in that moment, I see the conflict within him—the tortured soul behind the ruthless exterior.

“Okay, Tills. No underground cell for you.” His voice is low. “But that means you can’t try to escape again. Ever. You have to promise me that.”

I know the weight of my words even before they leave my mouth. “I promise.”

I’m committing myself to a future with Phoenix, accepting my captivity.

Phoenix’s grip on my arm loosens, and he pulls me closer, his eyes burning into mine. “Good. That’s settled, then. Now, let’s get you back to the trailer. You need to rest.”

I nod, feeling dazed as he walks me back to the motorcycle he left on the side of the road. The cool night air brushes my skin, but I’m numb to the temperature, my mind spinning.

I imagine what my life will be like from now on. Will Phoenix keep his word? And what about my promise? Have I just condemned myself to a life of captivity?

Questions swirl in my mind, but I push them aside, focusing on the here and now. One step at a time. I have to play this game if I want to survive.

I slide onto the back of the motorcycle, my heart heavy as I lean into Phoenix’s back and wrap my arm around him. I still can’t believe I’m giving in to him, agreeing to return to my prison. But what choice do I have? The idea of being trapped underground in the dark terrifies me more than anything.

“Sorry, no helmets. I had to borrow this bike from a friend in a rush,” Phoenix says as he kicks the bike to life with a roar.

As we pull away, the wind whips through my hair, and I feel a fleeting sense of freedom. I breathe in the crisp night air, knowing it might be the last time I feel the wind on my face for a while. I’m torn between relief at not being put in an underground room and dreading returning to his trailer.

I clear my throat when the bike slows back at the carnival, and the engine silences. “Can I ask you something?”

Phoenix tenses slightly. “Sure.”

“Were you panicked because you lost control over me or because you cared?” I demand

I feel his body tense under my hands as he grips the handles tighter. I know my question has hit a nerve. I’m probing the depths of his psyche, trying to understand the man who kidnapped me.

“Is there a difference?” he asks.

My heart skips a beat at the raw honesty in his response.

“I think there is,” I say, leaning closer to him. “Caring suggests a level of emotion and attachment. And losing control means you want to keep me as your possession.”

Phoenix is silent for a moment as if considering his response. “Maybe it’s both. Maybe I care, and losing control means losing you.”

His admission sends a jolt through me. Phoenix cares? The idea seems absurd, and yet, at this moment, I can believe him. “Let’s go.” He slides off the motorcycle and helps me off it.

Back at the trailer, Phoenix unlocks the door and ushers me inside. All I want to do is bolt, to put as much distance as possible between us, but my legs feel like jelly, and I know it’s useless.

Phoenix breaks the silence. “Are you hungry? I can cook something.”

My stomach rumbles in response, and I nod. Hunger pangs ripple through me as I realize I haven’t eaten since... I can’t even remember.

He disappears into the tiny kitchenette, and I sink into the chair, watching him move around the space. I’m acutely aware of the silence and the sound of my breathing.

“So...” I attempt small talk, unsure what else to do. “How long have you been with the carnival?”

Phoenix chops vegetables, his back to me. “Twelve years now. I keep to myself mostly.”

My brow furrows as he must have been a kid when he joined. “How old are you?”

His jaw clenches. “Twenty-six. Why?”

“So you were fourteen when you joined? How did you end up here?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Tyson found me.” He pauses as if debating whether to say more. “I had nowhere else to go.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he falls silent, unwilling to divulge more. I want to press further to understand their connection, but something in his demeanor stops me.

The sizzle of food hitting the pan and the scent of garlic and onions fills the trailer. Hunger grips my stomach, and I realize just how hungry I am. I watch him move confidently around the small space, a man in his element. My mind flashes to how he moves over me with the same confidence and grace. Heat rises to my cheeks at the memory.

“Here.” Phoenix sets a plate of pasta before me and sits across from me. “Eat up.”

I dig in. The pasta is simple yet delicious, and I savor every bite. Phoenix watches me as I eat, his eyes hooded.

We eat silently, our forks clinking against the plates, filling the space between us. I try to focus on my food and taste each bite, but my mind keeps drifting to my captor .

“This is delicious,” I say between mouthfuls, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He offers a small smile, and at that moment, I see a glimpse of the man behind the mask.

My heart skips a beat at the sight, and I quickly look down at my plate, unsure how to process this version of Phoenix. I’m drawn to him. That much is clear. But I’m also his captive, and that reality keeps me on edge.