4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

-Jared-

Alison thought I was losing control, but in reality, I was merely waiting for the perfect moment, and finally, I had the slippery target exactly where I wanted him. An informant had provided crucial intel about his whereabouts for tonight, and we had meticulously planned an ambush. As the vehicles parked outside the vast warehouse, I concealed myself in the shadows with my team, strategically surrounding the area.

Tonight, I was determined to put an end to this senseless conflict, and afterward, I would return home to fuck my wife until she was utterly spent. There was a surge of adrenaline coursing through me, fueled by the anticipation of what awaited later. But for now, I needed to stay focused on the task at hand.

As the vehicles came to a halt in front of the old warehouse, we remained hidden amongst the nearby buildings, observing as dark silhouettes emerged and headed toward the warehouse's entrance. One figure, darker than the rest, stood out, and I kept my gaze fixed on him. Just as they reached the doors and began to enter, confusion erupted among them as they discovered their cargo was missing.

That was our cue to strike. We swiftly moved forward, guns aimed at them. They reacted with haste, but they were exposed in the open. Some sought refuge behind the parked cars, but they could only shield themselves from one direction, and they were swiftly neutralized. Glass shattered, gunfire reverberated through the air, and bullets whizzed past. I maintained cover around a corner, witnessing a few of my own men fall in the crossfire. Their sacrifice was a grim necessity in our quest to restore peace, or so I told myself, until my eyes landed on the shadowy figure who was my primary target.

He was still alive, making a desperate dash toward one of the cars. Despite its shattered windows, the vehicle appeared operational. Amidst the chaos, with everyone else seemingly distracted and not focusing on him, I swiftly gave orders for my team to cover me.

"What are you—" one of my guards began to question, but I paid no heed as I charged into the hail of bullets. They called out after me, but nothing could halt my determined advance.

A bullet grazed my cheek, leaving a shallow wound, but I pressed on undeterred. As I closed in, my target started reversing the car. In a reckless move, I threw myself at the vehicle, thrusting my arm inside to encircle the man's throat. He only pressed harder on the gas, attempting to flee the battle, while I struggled to wrest control from him. Yet in the midst of our struggle, I found myself hanging precariously outside the speeding car, desperately clinging to him to prevent his escape. Tonight, I was resolved to leave with his head in a box.

He sharply turned the wheel in an effort to dislodge me, but I refused to relent, tightening my grip around him. He emitted a strangled sound, losing his grip slightly on the car's steering wheel, yet he stubbornly maintained his foot on the accelerator. With no vision of the impending danger, he careened toward one of the nearby buildings. Realizing our imminent collision, I braced myself, pushing away just moments before impact, landing hard on the unforgiving ground, likely sustaining scrapes and possibly breaking a rib—a small price to pay.

After the deafening crash and instant demise that followed, I lifted my head to witness the wreckage and smoke billowing from the mangled front of the car. Despite my attempts to rise, every fiber of my being protested, forcing me to remain prone. However, amidst the shouts of my own team, an eerie silence settled over the scene.

Someone soon reached me, grasping my arm and turning me.

"Are you all right?" he inquired.

I could barely speak, consumed by the searing pain coursing through me. Yet, despite the agony, I needed to rise, to confront the man who had dared to challenge me and who had kept me separated from my wife for far too long. With gritted teeth, I instructed the others to help me stand. They grumbled at my insistence, pointing out my wounds, but I urged them to press on. Limping and clutching my injured side, I made my way over to the wreckage, a triumphant smirk playing on my lips.

A sense of victory surged within me, but as I peered through the shattered window, a wave of concern washed over me. In the dim light, I had failed to notice that the man was blond. My target was not blond. With a heavy heart, I reached out, grasping the dead man's head and turning it toward me, pressing back the airbag. As I gazed upon his face, the realization dawned upon me—it wasn't him.

"What the hell?" I whispered, scanning the scattered bodies around me.

"What's wrong?" another one of my men asked.

"It's not him. This isn't Louis," I declared, gesturing frantically. "Search the area. Find him!"

My team dispersed, combing through the surroundings, while I remained rooted to the spot, battling to keep the pain at bay. I couldn't afford to lose focus. I couldn't rest until I had that bastard's head. However, from the confused expressions and frustrated shakes of their heads, I knew something was dreadfully amiss. As another team member approached to report their inability to locate him, the sinking realization washed over me—Louis wasn't here.

"But if he isn't here, then..." my voice trailed off, connecting dots that I'd rather leave unconnected, yet the likelihood was too grim to ignore. "Oh no..."

-Alison-

I had promised Jared I'd stay awake, but as the night stretched beyond midnight, sleep overtook me. I couldn't resist it. He had exerted me so thoroughly, and all I craved was rest. I was prepared to face any consequences for my lapse, as sleep was a precious indulgence. However, it felt like I had barely closed my eyes when a strange unease gripped me. Startled, I sat up in bed, draped in nothing but a thin robe.

"Jared?" I called out, half-expecting him to return, eager to resume our games. But the room remained empty.

Why did I feel this way then? Slipping out of bed, I reached for the gun he kept in the nightstand. Though I had never been fond of firearms, I understood their necessity. Slowly, I crept through the room, making my way toward the bedroom door. Pressing myself against the wall, I grasped the handle and cautiously opened it, peering into the silent hallway.

The quietness unnerved me. It reminded me of the night Vince had confronted us, a night we emerged victorious. Or was Jared simply toying with me? If so, he might end up with a bullet tonight. Frustration simmered within me as I ventured into the hallway, the gun clutched tightly in my hands, ready for whatever awaited me.

I decided to check his office first. The door stood wide open, and the room was dark and empty. Despite the lack of light, I inspected it thoroughly, finding no sign of anyone. Proceeding toward the stairs, I glanced down, spotting a faint glow near the entrance. Yet, it could easily be attributed to Jared's foresight in leaving a light on for his return.

I crept down the steps, but the age of the house betrayed my attempt at being quiet as each step creaked beneath my weight. So much for being stealthy , I mused, pushing onward despite the noise. Just as I prepared to descend the next flight, I caught the sound of movement emanating from below. Something wasn't right, I concluded. Nevertheless, I continued, reaching the bottom of the staircase. Peering around the railing into the dimly lit hallway, I strained to discern any signs of activity. Yet, there was nothing.

Advancing cautiously, I rose onto my tiptoes in an effort to minimize noise, but then I felt something beneath my foot. I froze, glancing down to see a dark stain on the floor. Crouching down, I examined the grimy spot, only to recoil upon realizing it was blood. My heart quickened, but I steeled my resolve, rising to my feet while keeping my gun at the ready. Whoever had infiltrated tonight, was about to learn the grave mistake of underestimating me.

Approaching the doors leading into the living room, memories of the showdown with Vince over 15 years ago flooded my mind. Like him, this intruder would meet his end at my hands. Standing at the threshold, I finally gained a clear view and spotted a figure by the windows, holding a drink. As they lifted the glass, the clinking of ice cubes echoed in the room. I trained my gun on them, prepared for confrontation.

"If you kill me now, don't expect my men to go easy on you," the man warned, his voice cutting through the silence.

I stifled a gasp, attempting to conceal my surprise, but then he turned to glance over his shoulder. Despite his undoubtedly handsome appearance, with features almost too refined for a killer, I knew better than to be deceived by looks alone. He appeared young, perhaps in his early thirties, with short, dark brown hair and mismatched eyes.

"Evening, Alison," he greeted.

"Who the hell are you?" I growled, entering the room with my gun still aimed at him.

"Hmm," he mused aloud. "Just another person trying to prove himself in a world where only strength matters."

"Then you've come to the wrong house," I snapped.

He appeared slightly perplexed. "Are you not his woman? Alison?"

"I meant, if you think you can prove anything by coming here, then you're mistaken," I spat.

"Oh, I see. You're going to... kill me?" he mocked.

"You doubt my capability?"

"Well, considering who you're married to, no, I don't," he admitted. "But aren't you curious?"

"Curious?" I whispered.

"How I got inside? Jared would never allow that, would he?"

His insinuation churned my stomach uncomfortably.

"What have you done to him?" I hissed.

"He might just be lying at the bottom of the sea at the moment," he taunted.

"What?" I exclaimed.

"Or perhaps I chopped him into pieces and sold him like dog food. Who knows? That's the fun part."

"You're sick. Tell me, what the hell have you done to my husband?" I demanded, stepping closer.

"But why would I do that? You should worry more about yourself, because all that security your husband usually leaves behind, he took with him tonight, thinking he had me," he smirked.

My hands trembled slightly, but I refused to let him see my fear.

"You were the right target. His weakness," he continued.

"Did you kill him? Is Jared alive?" I pressed, desperation lacing my words.

"And if he isn't, would you follow him?"

Meeting his mismatched eyes, I watched as he slowly sipped his drink.

"You know, there are stories about you two, and your love," he remarked cryptically.

"Well, it's quite epic. Why wouldn't there be?"

"Epic? I think you mean sickening," he retorted.

"You wouldn't understand," I snarled.

"No, because no one understands such a dark obsession," he spat. "You two are screwed up in the head, maybe that's why you work so well together."

"Get out," I ordered, tired of this pointless exchange.

"Or?" he challenged.

"Or I will shoot!" I screamed at him.

"And then what?"

"You'll be dead, and to surprise Jared, I might just hang you in the entrance like a prize for when he comes home," I snarled.

The man began chuckling, finding my threat amusing, but I had absorbed enough traits from Jared to not back down easily.

"You two really deserve each other, don't you?" he mocked.

"You have five seconds to make a decision," I informed him.

"Oh?" he replied.

"Four."

"You know I'm going to offer you the same deal," he said.

"Three."

"You want to save your husband, right?" he continued with a wicked smile.

I fell silent, still clutching the gun tightly, my finger poised on the trigger.

"What?" I inquired cautiously.

"Your husband. You want to save him, right?" he repeated, his smile growing wider.

"You have Jared?" I whispered, a mixture of dread and hope coursing through me.

"I have him," he confirmed.

"No, I don't believe you," I stated firmly.

"Want to see?"

As he reached into his pocket, I tensed involuntarily.

"Easy," he reassured me, moving more slowly this time, and then retrieving his phone. He scrolled for a moment before turning it and holding it out to me. I couldn't stifle a gasp. There he was—Jared. Beaten, unconscious, and bound. Trembling with fear, I glanced between the phone and the man standing before me.

"No, Jared was prepared," I insisted. "Jared is always prepared. It's not true!"

"Calling it fake? Want to take a closer look?" he challenged.

"I don't believe you. Jared doesn't lose," I countered.

"There's always a stronger opponent who will come along at some point."

I let out a mocking laugh. "And that should be you?"

He narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased with my insult. But if he thought I would think less of my husband, he was sorely mistaken.

"Fine," he relented, putting his phone away.

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"Call it fake, call my bluff. But Alison, we both know that even though you might trust your husband 99 percent—"

"I trust him blindly!" I snapped.

"All right, then you trust 99 percent that nothing has happened to him. But are you really willing to risk that one percent?" he challenged, and I felt a pang of doubt creeping in.

"Because even if I am lying, we both know a small part of you is doubting if I really am. And if you're wrong, you might just have killed your husband. Could you live with yourself, Alison? Could you truly accept that you had killed your love? The man you left everything for?" he taunted.

The more he spoke, the more unsure I became, my hands trembling violently until, with a deep, defeated exhale, I lowered the weapon, grappling with what to do next.

"That's what I thought," he chuckled, sipping his drink.

"He is fine," I asserted, meeting his eyes.

"Yes, so you say. But a small part still doubts," he countered.

I hated that he was right, and so I remained rooted in my spot, watching as he casually strolled around the room. He approached me, a pleased smile playing on his lips. As he halted before me, a shiver ran down my spine, loathing the way he scrutinized me. He leaned in, sniffing the air.

"Mm, what is that scent? Is that you?" he inquired.

I glared at him, refusing to respond, and he chuckled, moving away once more before setting down his drink.

"You really are as beautiful as they say. No wonder Jared keeps you locked up here. I wouldn't want to share you either," he remarked.

"I'm not locked up," I retorted.

"No? Can you leave?" he challenged.

"With protection."

"How freeing," he mocked.

"If I left without it, I think we know what would happen," I snapped.

"Yes, we do," he acknowledged.

"Is that your plan for me? Am I yours now?" I spat.

"Hm, maybe," he mused.

I glared at him, seething with impatience. He advanced toward me once more, extending his hand. Knowing his intentions, I reluctantly surrendered the gun.

"Now, open the robe," he commanded, reaching for his phone again.

"Excuse me?" I recoiled.

"You heard me," he snarled. "Open it."

My hands shook even more violently as I reached for the tie, the slow movements transporting me back to a past when I had been nothing but a sex slave for almost a month. I fought against the sickening feeling rising within me as I parted the robe. He snapped a picture, causing me to turn my head away in disgust.

"For your collection, I presume," I muttered venomously, avoiding eye contact.

"Something like that. Now, let's go," he ordered.

He stowed away the phone, and I hastily tied the robe back together before he seized my arm, forcibly spinning me around. I attempted to resist, but he reminded me of the consequences if I didn't comply. Defeated, I relented, allowing him to lead me, casting a last glance around the house, the only place that had felt like home.

He swung open the door, ushering me into the cold night air. A car stood in front of the house. He guided me toward it, opening the door and pushing me inside. I could do nothing but comply as he joined me in the car, which began to roll away. I peered out the window, watching the house vanish into the distance.