Chapter 23

The adrenaline that spreads through my veins feels like the prick of a thousand knives. It's sharp and unending, just like the blade Maddox used to add his malevolent touch to my skin. The only difference is now I feel like I'm the one about to be stabbed in the back. Like the circle karma travels in is about to round the corner and slap me in the face and I can't allow that to happen. Especially from him.

I've worked too damn hard these past fifteen years, carefully curating a persona that allows me the freedom to indulge my demons while fooling others. I'll be damned if he ruins this for me with something as egregious as the truth.

As I make my way closer to the woods, I'm not only reminded of how much I despise Maddox right now, but how much I loathe running. Seriously, now I know why Michael Myers always did his cryptic walk in the movies. This running shit gets old real fast. I'm exhausted and sweaty and the only time that is acceptable is when I'm being fucked or killing. Currently, I'm doing neither, so this is a no go for me, but since Maddox is so intent on exacting his delayed revenge on me tonight, the asshole has given me no other choice.

With Dutch Melrose's "Runrunrun" playing in the background of my mind, I hum the beat in an effort to make this hellish race a bit more tolerable.

My humming shifts into me full out singing the song. It's a good thing no one is out right now because I currently look like the most accurate depiction of what I truly am…a bloody, slutty, mess.

Continuing my sprint, I make sure to look back every few feet, to see if he's there and even though his towering devilish self is nowhere to be found I take no comfort in that. I know better because he and I are one and the same. Part of the thrill of the trick is not only to deceive but to outwit the other with enough premeditation and expertise to win no matter the cost.

Taking limited relief in his absence, I resume running when I feel my thighs beginning to buzz. Ignoring it, assuming it must be the adrenaline doing what it does best, I work through it but it persists.

Confused, I stop running and see my phone somehow hasn't fallen from my thigh harness, even when he was railing me before in the cemetery.

My hand glides down my thigh, past the blood that has now stained my skin, and the chaotic mess of shredded fishnet stockings.

It's Delilah.

Thank fuck, elation travels from my chest to my fingers that are now curled around the snap of my holster, retrieving my phone.

Swiping right to answer the call, I raise my phone to the side of my face.

"Hey, babe. Fuck, do I have a lot to fill you in on," I say.

A throaty groan emerges through the speaker, making my cheeks immediately flush with a surge of heat that contrasts the cold, clammy feeling spreading through my palms like a virus.

The momentary tinge of optimism I had answering her call evaporates as a familiar voice slithers into my ear. The husky and sultry tone feels like a knife driving into my brain.

"I love when you call me babe," Maddox snickers. The arrogance in his voice is the equivalent to what I imagine being serenaded by the devil would feel like.

Cold.

Hostile.

Unrelenting.

The air becomes trapped within my throat, my mind races. I know he has a history of tracking and tapping into things, but now I'm worried he did something to her.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" I demand.

"Calm down, Blair," he says so nonchalantly it only fuels my anger.

"I swear if you hurt her, I will kill you!" I shout, my chest heaving.

A shrill grunt breaks from my mouth and Istomp my foot into the pavement in pure, suffocating, anger.

"Fuck," he groans into the phone. "You really know how to make my cock rock hard when you get all pissy. I love an angry woman," he sneers.

"Fuck off, Maddox."

"Delilah is fine. She isn't the one I want. I want you."

I shake my head, I know he's obsessed, hence the whole persistent stalker thing he's got going on, but I don't understand how that obsession, that want he has for me, rooted in such delusional passion, never seems to falter.

"I didn't ask if you want her, fuckface. What did you do to her?" I repeat myself.

"What was that? You want me to fuck your face?" he jokes and I swear, never have I wanted to murder him more than I do right now.

He releases a long-winded sigh that scratches atmy ear. "She's fine."

"I don't believe you. Put her on the phone so I can make sure."

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Why the fuck not?!" I demand.

"I don't know where she is. I just borrowed her number…and the rest of the numbers in your phone."

Ha, old habits don't die hard.

Déjà vu assaults me, bringing me back to the first time he did this to me. Like the night I tried calling the cops on him. If I would have known then that fucking with him a would lead to this, I would have killed him instead of allowing him to feed my dark desires.

"See when you were taking your little nap–" he begins but I cut him off, I'm not going to let him just graze over the fact that he fucking drugged and branded me with his knife. Who does this man think he is?

"Oh no you don't. I wasn't napping, you drugged me," I retort.

"Eh, potato, potato. You woke up, didn't you? It was just sleep meds, Blair. Where is your sense of adventure? Anyway, as I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me. I took the liberty of reprogramming every number in your phone to call me."

"I'm going to call the cops," I lie.

A chuckle bursts through the speaker. "That's rich coming from you. If you remember correctly it was you they were more suspicious of until I got them off your trail."

Ah, how could I forget. An intervention I'm still paying for.

"Now, enough of your dramatics," he snaps. "You're so close."

"To what?" I ask with ample dread in my tone.

"The big surprise!" Even with the way his voice naturally rasps, I can feel his excitement radiating through the phone. "Now, according to this beautiful red dot that is flashing with your live location, you are getting warmer."

"You know, it's pretty pathetic how heavily you rely on technology to keep tabs on me. What would the stalker gods say about that, huh?"

"You're so cute, Blair. Gods of any kind don't exist and don't let anyone tell you any different. The only deity you will ever know is buried within me."

"What do you want from me?"

"Your fear. Your loyalty. Your life…beginning and ending with mine. It's all I have ever wanted," he confesses and for the first time all night, I believe him. I know what he is saying he truly feels and that's what fucking scares me because that kind of haunted grip I have on his heart and mind, can't be broken easily…if ever.

"Anyway, enough of that, you're getting warmer" he says, deflecting from the previous sentiment of his words. He continues to speak, but I can't process any of it because the scene before me is so horrifying, so depraved, that my air becomes trapped making me gasp in fear.

What did he do?