4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

-Jared-

More articles, more searching, yet still no answers. Torturing myself by following social media updates on Alison's disappearance did me no good. Her absence had only added to the chaos surrounding her workplace, with people speculating online about the reasons behind it all. None of it brought me joy or relief because it didn't bring me any closer to where I wanted to be.

Collaborating with Astrid provided some relief, although she proved to be more effective working independently than with me breathing down her neck. I tried to contribute what I could, but it felt insufficient. However, working out in our private gym or venting my anger on whoever Astrid sent to spar with me provided only temporary relief.

I craved more. I yearned to see blood spilled as a result of my calculated actions, directed at those who deserved it. Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as I hoped. All I could do was anticipate the week's end, mentally preparing myself for the day when I would be unleashed upon these wolves like a wild hound.

It brought a strange kind of satisfaction to imagine their deaths and the torment I would inflict upon them. Yet, at night, it was Alison who haunted my dreams. The thought of witnessing her agony or discovering her lifeless and mutilated form plagued my sleep, causing me to wake up drenched in sweat, disoriented for a few moments as I struggled to remember where I was.

With only two days remaining before I could begin my search at the club, I rose from bed, showered, and dressed. Descending the stairs, I found Astrid already awake, though she appeared unwell.

"Is the nausea worsening?" I asked.

"Yes," she groaned. "I think the morning sickness might be starting early for me."

"Aren't you only about four weeks along?"

"Nearly," she sighed. "And while morning sickness typically begins around week six, no two pregnancies are the same. Besides, it doesn't help with the headache I have."

An untouched bowl of oatmeal sat before her, but I refrained from insisting she eat. Instead, I focused on preparing breakfast for myself.

"You could just—"

"Suggest an abortion again, and I might just castrate you," she snapped, a hint of humor in her tone.

"Then you can't blame anyone but yourself for that agony. You chose it."

"You're the one who got me pregnant."

I sighed. "Don't remind me."

I turned to her, noticing the smile on her face as I took a bite of the toast I had made. Curious about what lay ahead, especially now that I could soon embark on my mission to find Alison on my own, I posed a question.

"Tell me something," I began, and she perked up slightly, grateful for the diversion from her discomfort. "Once I have Alison, and once you have the power you desire, what happens next?"

"What do you mean? Having everything we want is just the beginning of the real work," she replied.

"I'm referring to my living arrangements here, and that little one growing inside you," I clarified, gesturing toward her abdomen. "You surely don't expect me to stay here with you and raise a child I have no intention of being involved with. We don't have any emotional connection, and if you have all the power anyway, will you really have any need for me?"

"Gosh, Jared, are you asking for a divorce?" she teased, feigning hurt as she placed a hand over her heart. "It's so sudden. I can't imagine why we'd ever want to part ways."

I rolled my eyes. Her attempt at acting was unconvincing, especially compared to Alison's finesse. Astrid's smile widened when she saw my lack of enthusiasm for her performance, and she leaned back in her seat at the kitchen island.

"Are you looking to disappear once this is all over? Or perhaps you're interested in taking over Vince's empire?" she inquired.

"No, you can have it all. I just want to leave," I affirmed.

"With Alison?" she probed.

"No, I'm thinking of leaving her here. Of course, I meant with Alison!" I exclaimed, annoyed, as Astrid continued to smile, clearly amused with herself.

"Well, you can't deny this hunt excites you. What will happen when you get your hands on her? Won't it become mundane again?" she taunted, earning a glare from me.

Images flooded my mind of Alison and the moments we shared. There was nothing mundane about our time together.

"Alison has never been boring," I affirmed.

"No? Do you think she'll be just as thrilling after being with hundreds of men?" Astrid mocked.

"We don't know what's happened to her," I countered.

"Come now, Jared. Even if Vince has her, who's to say he didn't—"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll give you a reason to regret it," I threatened, pointing at her as a wicked smirk spread across her lips.

"I'm just preparing you," she retorted.

"And I'm telling you to keep your mouth shut," I ordered, causing her to glare slightly.

"I'm not exactly painting an unlikely scenario. Or maybe he punishes her by handing her over to his guards or selling her to clients."

"He deals with drugs and hunts people. He doesn't sell women," I explained firmly.

"Are you absolutely certain about that?" she inquired skeptically.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because sometimes the people we love are the ones who can surprise us the most."

"Then it's a good thing I don't know what love is," I sighed, briefly averting my gaze from Astrid. When I looked back at her, she regarded me as if I were an idiot.

"What?" I inquired.

"Jared, honestly," she sighed, shaking her head.

"What is it?"

"You will do anything to find Alison, and even despite what has happened to her, you claim nothing will change how you feel for her."

"I feel hatred," I admitted.

"Yet it doesn't stop you from searching for her, killing those who stand in your path."

"That's not love," I corrected her.

"Then what will you call it? Or may I point something out?" she inquired.

"Will I be able to stop you?"

"No," she replied with a smile.

"Fine. What is it?" I asked.

"Could it be you still cling to the idea of hatred because falling for Alison is so unfathomable in your mind, despite it being true? But your hatred is simply an idea now, a thing of the past, having been replaced by something else," she guessed.

I gazed for a long moment at Astrid, as she shrugged a little, appearing somewhat superior.

"No, I feel hatred," I declared.

"You don't feel hatred. You feel such a deep affection that even the devil himself won't stand in your way of having Alison back," she pointed out.

"I'm merely sick in the head."

"I won't deny that," she chuckled. "We all have our issues."

"And yet you want to bring that child into the middle of it all."

She shrugged. "Maybe they'll grow up to be like their father when it comes to love."

"It's not love. It's just..."

"Obsession?" she teased.

"Yes, precisely. I'm as unbalanced as Alison."

"Jared," she sighed, shaking her head. "We may express love differently, but can you truly define what love is?"

"It's not like this."

Again, she shook her head. "How can you be so sure? Love takes many forms. The love you feel for one person may differ greatly from another."

"Why are we having this conversation? Shouldn't you be working?" I snapped.

"With this child wreaking havoc on my body? Not at the moment."

"You're running out of time, and when you are, I'm out of here, wreaking havoc on your cousins and anyone else I can get near," I growled.

"You know, you're quite sexy when you talk about killing my family."

"Then you must be dripping wet right now," I spat.

"Utterly aroused," she taunted, prompting an eye roll from me. "Rest assured, I'll find her. I promised, and I always keep my word."

"You know I don't trust you."

"Then why are you here?" she asked.

"We both know I have nowhere else to go," I sighed.

"There's Vince's house. He's not using it anymore. It's all yours," she reminded me.

"And I've told you I don't want it. I want nothing that belongs to him anymore. I just want..."

"Alison," she finished for me.

"Yes, obviously."

"Love, Jared, love," she teased before grabbing her tea and exiting the kitchen, leaving me to shake my head slightly. It wasn't love. It was a sick form of infatuation. But despite its toxicity, it was all I knew, and Alison gladly accepted this as my warped declaration of loyalty.

I set my food aside and then reached up to the spot where she had cut me. Her twisted declaration, now etched into my skin, served as a macabre source of motivation. She had insisted that the location of the wound was deliberate, a calculated attempt to carve herself into my heart. But the truth was, she didn't need to carve me at all. Wherever I went, whatever the passing years brought, she lingered, a constant presence in my mind.

Pushing away from the counter, I abandoned my food and ascended the stairs. Passing by Astrid's closed office door, I continued down the hallway until I reached a bedroom at the end. It was a space I only entered when I needed to store Alison's belongings, preparing it for its soon-to-be occupant.

I turned the doorknob and stepped inside. At first glance, everything seemed ordinary. The room boasted a bed, a cozy seating area, and a balcony overlooking the backyard. A spacious closet and adjoining bathroom completed the ensemble. Yet beneath this fa?ade of normalcy lay a trove of hidden treasures and tools, ensuring that the games between Alison and me would never cease.

However, my purpose for entering the room wasn't to retrieve toys. My guest hadn't even arrived yet. I ventured into the closet, focusing on the left side, which should have housed items like socks, underwear, and jewelry. Yet as I pulled open a drawer, it wasn't these mundane items that greeted me.

Instead, an array of collars came into view—newly crafted in various sizes, shapes, and colors. Among them was her old collar from her previous servitude, and as I traced my fingers over the engraved letters, memories flooded back. Yet I quickly shifted my gaze to a different spot.

Above the rows of collars sat a black box containing the keys to unlock them. Tucked away behind that was a small, dark blue one, reminiscent of the color of her personal chamber of torment.

I reached for it, my hands trembling slightly as I grasped it, for this collar was vastly different from the others. It was one I never imagined I would purchase for her, yet old memories stirred, evoking a specific dream I had once harbored.

I opened the box, revealing the ring, which glimmered in the dim light, its black obsidian stone catching my eye. Retrieving it from its confines, I ran my fingers over the cold surface, turning it over in my hand. Despite my uncertainty about its significance, I couldn't deny that my own subconscious had led me to acquire it, my hands acting almost autonomously as they typed and clicked away on my computer keyboard.

What was the purpose of this ring? I pondered. Did I intend for her to wear it alongside the other collars? I struggled to articulate my emotions as I examined the delicate piece of jewelry with its silver band encircling the stone. While there was nothing particularly remarkable about it, save for its beauty, I couldn't shake the feeling that it held a significance beyond its aesthetics. It wasn't a diamond ring like the one she had received from her husband, yet I couldn't shake the sense that this ring would suit her far better. But did I truly want to offer it to her?