Asher

I feel her tense beneath my touch, my voice a soft plea amidst the chaos she has brought upon us. "Don't break my heart," I murmur, my breath mingling with the scent of her hair. "Not when you managed to patch it up."

For a moment, she hesitates, her body stiff with fear and suspicion. But when she tries to slip away, to escape the truth that looms between us, I can't let her go. I pull her back from the door, my grip firm yet as I guide her away from this freedom she's clinging to instead of me.

Solange fights my decision, but her struggles are futile against my strength. I lead her to the bed, making her sit down as I stroke her hair, my touch tender yet tinged with urgency. I kiss her forehead, holding her close as if to shield her from the wrong and bad emotions inside of her.

"You don't need to be afraid," I whisper, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest. But she shakes beneath my touch, her eyes searching mine for answers.

"Are you… are you…?" Her voice quivers with the weight of the question, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between us.

"Am I what?" I rasp, stroking my knuckles down the side of her throat. "In love with you? Yeah, very much so."

"Have you killed people?" she asks, her voice shrill and she clutches the edge of the bed, her body squirming. "Did you kill those men in the shed?"

"They were going to hurt you."

Her eyes flare, filling with disbelief and flare. "And what about other people?" she asks but I don't reply and she screams in panic, "How many have you killed!"

"There's no need to raise your voice."

"How many?" she croaks, letting out a sob.

I drag a hand down my face. "After a while the numbers blur…"

Solange recoils, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. The truth shatters the fragile look in her eyes and I feel as if I've just exposed her to a stark reality I never wanted her to see. I want things to go back to the way they were between us.

I reach out for her, but she jerks back.

"Don't touch me," she pants, squirming away from me. She brushes a tear off her face. "It's fucked up what you do," she whispers. "It's fucked up to murder people then write books about it!"

She stares at me, disbelief and horror warring on her features, and I know things will never go back to the way they were. Not unless I get her to reason, to understand that what I do isn't bad. That my actions are necessary for the thriving of others. For the thriving of people like Solange. I'm steadfast in my convictions. I just need her to be the same.

"It's not fucked up, my angel of sunshine," I say softly. "It's charity. I'm doing the world a service."

I reach for the book, picking it up and flipping to a page. The words stare back at me, stark and unapologetic, a justification for everything that I do and I agree with every single word.

I read aloud, my voice steady despite the weight of the words. "Many of the victims were murderers themselves, criminals who posed a danger to society…"

"Ash…"

"Don't you see? By removing them, I get to them before they get to any of us. Before they get to innocent people like you." I look up at Solange, searching for admiration in her gaze. "Am I not charitable for ridding the world of scum?"

Her expression is a mixture of shock and revulsion, her lips parting as if to speak but no words come. And then, in a desperate attempt to escape, she lunges for the door once more.

I react instinctively, seizing her by the waist and whirling her around to face me. I try to kiss her, to silence the questions and doubts that threaten to unravel us both. Our lips meet in a clash of desperation and defiance. It's not a kiss of passion or desire, but a battle of wills—one fighting for control, the other for freedom. Her hands push against my chest, trying to break free from my grasp, while my grip tightens around her, unwilling to let her slip away.

But she's slipping through my fingers, despite my efforts.

"You don't want to do this," I grit between my teeth, my lips against her temple. "I know you want me just as much as I want you. You're just trying to deny it because your mind's confused."

"I'm not confused!" she whimpers, her eyes ablaze with helplessness. "I'm stuck with a murderer!"

That's all she sees. She can't see anything else. Solange's rejection still echoes in my mind, a bitter taste that I cannot swallow. She pushed me away, denied me the intimacy I craved. And now, I have to show her the consequences of defiance.

"You're not even trying to understand me…" I rasp, my throat snaring, something cold spreading in my chest and I manoeuvre her down to the floor, tearing her clothes off and she looks at me in shock, her legs kicking as she screams and tries to worm away from me. "You're never going to let me love you again, are you?"

Her eyes freeze and then she starts that useless struggling again.

I grab a jar of honey from the kitchen counter, its sticky sweetness coating my fingers. I smear the honey over Solange's exposed skin, watching as it glistens as her cries ring in my ears.

"Asher stop!" she sobs. "W…what are you doing…?"

I yank her up to standing, holding her to me and grab a string of ropes before heading out the door.

Outside, the trees loom silently and I drag Solange towards one of these trees, the ropes in my hands tightening with each step. She fights against me, cursing me but I can barely make out what she sees. I refuse to listen to the lies coming out of her mouth. I only want to hear the truth. The truth where I'm her one and only.

"There are predators in these woods," I tell her quietly, my voice a whisper. "Hungry predators."

Her eyes widen with fear, the realization of her vulnerability dawning upon her. "You can't do this," she pleads, her voice trembling.

"But I can," I reply, my tone unyielding. "And I just did."

I tie her securely to the tree, ensuring she can't escape. Her pleading intensifies, but I remain unmoved, my resolve unshakeable. I stroke her cheek with a gentleness that belies the cruelty of my actions, my thumb tracing the curve of her lip.

"I'll release you," I murmur softly, my breath brushing against her ear, "as soon as you let me love you again."

With those words, I turn away and walk back towards the cabin.

"Asher!" Solange screams. "Asher!"

Solange's cries echo behind me, but they fade when I close the door behind me. Inside, I lean against the door, my heart heavy with conflicting emotions. Regret and longing mingle with the satisfaction of asserting our love.

Solange's is going to come around. She's going to remain out there in the wild and contemplate. Out there she'll come to terms with her own vulnerability and realize how much she needs me. I will come to her rescue and her heart will be mine once more.