Chapter 9

Nine

The sound of the hammer still echoed in my ears, each strike reverberating through the silence like a death knell. The boards over the basement window had stolen the last glimmer of light, the last shred of hope I’d dared to reach for. My wrists throbbed where the cuffs bit into them, my arms stretched above me and bound to the pipe like a twisted headboard.

I stared into the suffocating darkness, my thoughts spiraling in endless loops of fear and something colder, heavier—regret. Not just for trying to escape, but for the things I’d felt before. For the way I had once thought I could love someone like Owen.

The footsteps came slowly, each one deliberate, calculated. They stopped just outside the door, and for a moment, I held my breath. Then the door creaked open, and his shadow filled the frame.

He didn’t speak as he stepped inside, shutting the door with a soft, final click. The silence between us was thick and oppressive as he approached the bed. His movements were calm, deliberate, but the tension in his frame made my pulse quicken.

He crouched beside the mattress, his gaze unreadable as he studied me, dissecting me with eyes that saw far too much. “You’ve disappointed me, Kira,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made my stomach twist.

“Owen, I—” The words fumbled out, desperate and raw, but I stopped myself. What could I say? That I hadn’t meant to leave? That I hadn’t dared to hope for freedom? The truth burned in my chest. He’d never believe me, and I wasn’t sure I believed myself.

His hand reached out, brushing against my cheek with a touch so gentle it made my breath hitch. “I see you, Kira,” he murmured. “I know you better than anyone else ever could.”

My stomach churned at the words, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. His fingers slid down to my jaw, tilting my face so our eyes locked. The closeness was unbearable, his breath warm against my skin. My heart raced, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating stillness.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the edge of my lips. “Every part of you.”

Something inside me cracked, sharp and raw, but I shoved it down, burying it beneath the fear and the shame. I hated him. I hated myself more for the way a part of me still believed him.

His hand moved from my face to the cuffs, his fingers brushing against the metal where they connected to the pipe. My breath caught as he leaned closer, his weight shifting over me.

“Do you know what hurts the most?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. “It’s not that you tried to leave.” His gaze flicked to the boarded window, and his jaw tightened before returning to me. “It’s that you don’t see how much I’ve done for you.”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“Stop.” The word cut through the air like a whip. “No more lies, Kira.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight. My skin burned where his fingers trailed down my arm, his touch both gentle and unyielding. “I’ve given you everything,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, darker. “And you still don’t get it.”

“Owen, please?—”

“Shh,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Don’t fight me, Kira. This is for your own good. You’ll see.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back while swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. I couldn’t let him see me break. Not again. But as his lips claimed mine, as his hands pressed me deeper into the mattress, I felt myself shatter anyway.

This wasn’t love. It was control. It was him taking what he wanted because he could.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, beneath the fear and the anger and the shame, a small, broken part of me whispered that maybe I deserved this. That if I could still love him after everything, then maybe this was exactly where I was meant to be.

His lips left mine for a moment, just long enough for his gaze to sweep over me like a predator surveying his claim. The tension in the room thickened, the oppressive silence punctuated only by the sound of my shallow breaths.

“You’ll learn to stop fighting me,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down my arm to the cuff that bound me. His other hand pressed against my hip, pinning me firmly to the mattress as he released the cuff, the cool air rushing over my wrist as it dropped to the bed.

But there was no freedom in the movement. His hand captured my wrist before I could even think of moving, holding it above my head as he leaned down again, his lips brushing against the hollow of my throat.

“Owen…please…” My voice wavered, trembling with a mix of fear and something I refused to name. His lips curved against my skin, his breath warm and maddeningly slow.

“You keep saying please as if it changes anything,” he said, his tone almost amused. “But you don’t understand yet. You belong to me, Kira. Every inch of you, every thought, every breath.”

My heart pounded against my ribs as his weight shifted, one hand still gripping my wrist while the other trailed down to my hip. His touch was deliberate, slow, like he was savoring every moment of my helplessness. I hated the way my body reacted, the shiver that ran through me despite everything.

“You think you can resist me, but you can’t,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my collarbone. “Not when you’ve always been mine.”

I wanted to scream, to push him away, but the words caught in my throat, tangled with the memories of every time I’d believed his lies, every time I’d thought he cared. And maybe he did—in his own twisted way. But that didn’t make it any less suffocating.

His hand moved lower, his fingers brushing against the waistband of my pants, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. His gaze flicked up to meet mine, a dark challenge in his eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

But we both knew the truth. He wouldn’t stop, not really. And maybe…maybe a part of me didn’t want him to.

Tears pricked at my eyes again, and I turned my head away, biting my lip to keep the words from spilling out. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. “You’re learning.”