46. Tessa

46

TESSA

A s I stir in my sleep, I turn slightly, hugging the pillow that smells like Alec to my chest. Last night was wonderful, a physical representation of the tender new relationship between me and the boys. I know they're worried about everything going on but I feel safe around them, protected.

The last vestiges of sleep cling to me as I hear low murmuring from the living room. I hope they managed to get some sleep last night. We stayed up late studying, but I finally conked out around midnight.

A smile plays on my lips and I drift back to sleep, thinking about how nice it is to have a moment of peace amid everything going on lately.

But the peace doesn't last.

Something cold and hard presses against my temple, jolting me awake. My heart slams in my chest, pulse racing as I blink and see the figure standing before me.

It's Max. And he's got a gun in his hand.

My first instinct is to scream but he slaps a hand over my face, my cheek stinging with the contact.

"Get up," he growls, his voice low and terrifying.

I can barely breathe, but my body reacts on instinct, pushing myself upright before I fully comprehend what's happening. Every nerve in my body screams at me to run, to fight, to do something. But the gun stays firmly pressed against me. One wrong move, and it's all over.

Max yanks me out of bed, shoving me toward the door. "We're going for a ride."

I'm shaking, my mind scrambling for a way out, but there's nothing. I can't scream. There's no one to hear me. The boys aren't home, obviously. They left me all alone, at the mercy of this madman.

Cold air hits me as we step outside, and I shiver, but it's not from the chill. Max forces me into the back seat of his car, the barrel of the gun pressed so hard against my ribs it's painful. The car speeds off, tearing away from the safety of campus and the city.

The drive feels endless, the roads becoming more isolated. Trees blur past, and with every mile, hope slips further and further away. Eventually, we pull up to an old cabin, deep in the woods.

My stomach churns. This is the kind of place you never want to be dragged to. It's far from civilization, too far for anyone to hear me if I scream.

Max yanks me out of the car and drags me toward the cabin. My shoulder slams into the doorframe as we enter, but I barely feel the pain. My whole body is numb with fear.

Inside, the air is stale, the cabin cold and dark. He shoves me inside, frog-marching me into one of the bedrooms where he pushes me down into a chair, then sets about tying me up.

"Why are you doing this?" I beg, my voice shaking. "Why me? I wasn't the only one who helped put you away!"

Max pulls a knife from his pocket, the blade catching the faint light. His smile twists into something dark and cruel. "You know why."

His words hang heavy between us, loaded with meaning. I swallow hard and nod, my mind reeling as I feel like I finally understand.

Then he lunges at me. His knife stabs into my shoulder, and pain explodes, white-hot and blinding. I scream, the sound ripped from me before I can stop it.

Max's eyes light up with sick satisfaction before he yanks it out. Blood pours down my arm, soaking my shirt. I gasp, the pain sudden and intense to the point it almost feels cold again. My whole body trembles as he steps back, twirling the gun like this is some kind of twisted joke.

"I'm going to enjoy hurting you," he says, a look of wild glee in his blue eyes.

I look up at him, terror surging through me as I realize just how much danger I'm in.

The pain throbs with each breath I take as I watch Max pace back and forth, the twisted smile never leaving his face. The fire in his eyes is more terrifying than the actual gun in his hand. Every step he takes, every movement, feels deliberate, like he's savoring every second of my fear.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he says, voice low and menacing. "To finally get back at you for everything you did to me. For everything you took."

"I didn't take away anything," I protest. "You're the one who did all those horrible things!"

"You destroyed everything, Tessa!" he roars. "You and your damn podcast, airing all that dirty laundry about Sigma Theta. You painted me as a monster, ruined my family's name."

"You are a monster," I choke out, my voice shaking but defiant.

His grin widens. "Maybe now. But you made me this way. And now, like the monster I am, I'm going to burn this place to the ground, Tessa, and you're going to burn with it."

I can't breathe. My vision blurs as panic overwhelms me. "Please, Max," I cry. "Don't do this. You don't know what you're doing! Max, please, I'm pregnant. Don't do this."

For a second, I think I see hesitation in his eyes. But then it vanishes, replaced with a mocking sneer. He throws his head back and laughs, a sound so cruel it cuts through me like ice.

"Of course you are. You've always been a whore, haven't you?" His gaze narrows. "You're just like I thought. Pathetic. Weak. You deserve this, Tessa. You deserve to die."

I swallow the sob that threatens to erupt, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry and plead any longer. If I'm going to die, I'm going to go out on my terms. My chin juts upward and I stare him down. "Alec, Jace, and Devin are going to come for me," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the terror tightening around my throat. "They'll find me and stop you."

Max's wild grin grows even bigger, reaching into his coat pocket to produce something small, which he flashes in front of me. It's a notebook, old and tattered and he flips the pages open to show me the contents.

"This little notebook here shows me just how much those guys care about you," he says, tone mocking as he waves it in front of my face. It's a list, and I manage to read a few of the items on it and my stomach churns.

Follow her to every single class.

Trash her reputation at the paper.

Make her think no one likes her anymore.

Drive a wedge between her and her friends.

Seduce and dump her.

It's a list of ways to make my life hell. And it's all written in Devin's handwriting.

Something sharp pierces me in the heart, like a metaphorical knife twisting inside me.

I don't understand. I thought we were past everything. I thought we'd worked it all out. Why would they have this? Were they working with Max the whole time? Was that his way of getting back at me, making me fall in love with them, then revealing that it was all a farce?

I can feel the despair welling up inside me—a cold, crushing weight. I don't want him to see how much his words are affecting me, but it's impossible to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. Despite my efforts to stay composed, I can't help but feel the enormity of my situation.

Max's grin widens. "So go ahead, keep hoping they'll come to your rescue. It won't matter. By the time they realize what's happening, it'll be too late."

He steps back, walking over to the doorway. "Don't go anywhere," he says in a singsong. I can't move, and the stab wound on my shoulder is making it hard to concentrate.

He comes back with a red can in his hands. A gasoline can. The cruel anticipation in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: he's enjoying this, savoring every moment of my fear.

With a smirk, he begins to douse everything around us in the liquid, splashing it on the bed, the dresser, and the rug, then trails it out the door again and I can see from where I'm tied up that he's splashing more on the furniture in the living area. He produces another can, then repeats the process, dumping the liquid across every available surface he can find.

Tears blur my vision as I squeeze them shut, silently apologizing to my unborn babies.

I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better .

No one can hear me out here. No one knows where I am. Any hope that the boys will come for me is fading the closer I am to the end.

I wish things were different.

Max steps back into the room one last time and holds up a box of matches. "Max, please!" I beg, my voice rising in terror. "Don't do this! You don't have to do this! Please, Max!"

He drags the match against the striking surface, a sharp hiss echoing in the room when it lights. Then, with one last smile, he drops the match on the ground a few feet in front of me.

The gasoline catches instantly, turning into a blaze within seconds. He saunters out as the cabin starts to burn, smoke filling the air.

I cough, struggling against my bonds. I don't want to die. I can't die. I have to protect my babies.

"Please!" I beg, the pain in my shoulder throbbing as I wriggle about wildly, attempting to stand up and free myself.

Please .