Chapter Thirteen

Raven

As we step out of the rotting, ghostly mansion, the night wraps around us like a shroud. The full moon hangs high above, radiating its cold, silver glow over the overgrown path ahead. Ty’s fingers are locked around mine in a hold that’s almost bruising, dragging me behind him without a word.

“Whose mansion was that, Ty?” I ask, my voice hesitant but edged with curiosity. “Do you know who lived there?”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back, but his reply is sharp, laced with a hint of disgust. “My grandparents.”

My brows shoot up in surprise, his confession catching me off guard. “You’re from this small town?”

He finally glances at me, his black ski mask now pulled up over his nose, revealing only a glint of his brown eyes in the moonlight.

“Not really,” he mutters, his tone flat but heavy. “My parents grew up here. Did a lot of… business in this shitpit.” The word rolls off his tongue like venom before he pauses for a second, “They lived in another small city not far from here.”

I try to think back on the details from his file, but now, when I reach back for them, they slip through my fingers like smoke. It feels like years have passed since I read it, though I know it hasn’t been long. It’s only been days. Time feels warped around him, distorted, like he bends it to his will the same way he does everything else.

Maybe, eventually, he’ll open up to me. Maybe I’ll earn a glimpse inside that labyrinth of a mind and find out the truth behind his actions. I need to know why he’s doing all of this. Why he chose me. Why he’s killing again. I can’t believe he’s just some mindless murderer who kills for the rush. There’s something more behind it, a purpose I can feel in every calculated move he makes, in the unspoken burden that shadows his eyes.

But I know that purpose—whatever it is—won’t make it right. Killing isn’t right. It can’t be justified, not really. Yet, I can’t stop myself from wanting to understand. To hear his reasoning. To unravel the dark strings tying him to this madness.

Psychopaths are intelligent, frighteningly so. And Ty… he isn’t driven by a frenzy. There’s no mania clouding his thoughts. Every step, every act, is deliberate. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I shouldn’t care about the answers. They won’t redeem him, won’t undo the horrors he’s unleashed, but for some stupid, desperate reason, I need to hear them anyway. I need to understand the why, as if that information could validate something—anything—about this twisted connection between us and I hate myself for wanting it.

As he drags me through the woods, Midnight claws at the front of my hoodie, trying to anchor herself as I stumble to match his long strides. My breath comes out uneven, but not just from his pace, but from the filth swirling in my mind.

I can’t stop thinking about the way he fucked me. I can still feel him between my thighs. How his big body felt against mine, like he was claiming me in ways I didn’t know were possible.

My mind is a confused wreck over him, torn between disgust and a pull so strong it’s like I can’t say no—even when I want to, I still find myself wanting to spread my legs for him.

The way he degraded me, his words vicious and disgusting, yet they ignited something dark inside. And then the look on his face—the sheer pleasure in his eyes as he first entered me—I’m sure that altered my fucking brain chemistry. Or maybe it built something. I can’t even tell anymore.

It all felt so riskily right, like we fitted, like I was born to be tangled in his darkness, even as if know, deep down, I should be running as far away from him as I can.

I’m fucked.

There’s no other word for it. Something is seriously wrong with me, and the worst part is—I’m not sure I even want to fix it anymore. I don’t even know if I can.

…

As we break through the graveyard’s stifling silence, I see my car waiting where I left it, parked outside the house I’d been staying in. Leaves cling to its surface, and the sight feels oddly distant, like it belongs to someone else. Ty doesn’t reduce his pace while he pulls me along.

“Is there anything in the house that you left behind? Because you won’t be coming back here again,” he murmurs as he faces me, his voice low, almost intimate, his dark eyes searching mine.

I swallow hard, glancing back at the house with a small headshake. “I think you got everything,” I reply, my voice tight.

With that, he unlocks the handcuff from his wrist and slips his warm hand into mine before leading me to the driver’s side of the car.

“Where’s the keys?” he asks, his tone steady but demanding. I lean down, fumbling with the side pocket of my suitcase until my fingers close around the cold metal.

But before I can straighten, a voice cuts through the stillness like a knife.

“Raven?”

My body freezes mid-rise.

Fuck. It’s Jess.

I reluctantly lift my head, my stomach twisting as I see her striding toward us. Ty’s response is possessive as yanks me behind him, shielding me with his large frame, and I peek out from around his arm, my brows pinching in confusion as she stops, staring directly at me.

“Where have you been? You never came back after running into that cemetery,” she says, her gaze darting suspiciously between us.

My heart pounds, scrambling for an excuse, then the words tumble out before I can even think.

“Oh, I did come back, but my kitten took me on quite the adventure…”

Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms. “So where have you been? I’ve been knocking for the past three days.”

Ty steps forward, his presence looming as his voice drops into a dangerous growl. “Is it really any of your business? Why the fuck are you hounding her?”

I flinch at the poison in his tone, glancing up at him with wide eyes. His dark eyes lock on hers with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine, but she doesn’t back down, though. Instead, she searches his half-covered face, her own expression hardening as if she senses something is amiss.

“You said you didn’t have a boyfriend, Raven,” she says, her gaze moving to me.

I panic, the lie spilling out before I can stop it. “Oh, he’s not my… boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

The second the words leave my mouth, Ty’s hand tightens around mine in a punishing squeeze, sharp enough to make me bite back a wince.

The woman hesitates, her suspicion softening into confusion as her eyes flick to the suitcase by our feet. “You’re still leaving?” she asks quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

I can feel Ty’s tension in front of me, crackling with restrained violence. This moment is a tightrope, and I have no idea which way it’s going to break.

“Yes I am, I’m going to stay with him,” I respond, breaking eye contact as I lower them.

“That’s a shame, but I wish you well.”

I lift my head, forcing a small, strained smile as Jess hesitates for a moment before turning back toward the house next door. But just as she reaches the door, she pauses, casting one last stern look over her shoulder. The intensity in her gaze makes my skin itch, but I hold steady until she disappears inside.

Only then do I exhale, the sound coming out in a rush I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Ty doesn’t say a word, just tugs me forward with an unrelenting pull, yanking open the back door of the car. He hurls the suitcase inside before slamming it shut, the sound ringing out in the night air.

As I settle into the driver’s seat, he leans over me, his presence suffocating, and with a swift click, he locks the handcuff onto the steering wheel. My frustration flares, and I roll my eyes with an annoyed huff.

Ty’s head tilts slightly as amusement flickers in his dark, calculating eyes, then his gaze drops to my lips, lingering there, and the tension between us sparks. But instead of closing the space between us, he dips back out of the car. Midnight lets out a soft mewl as he plucks her from my arms, cradling her gently against his chest.

He closes the door before sliding into the passenger seat beside me, his fingers stroking Midnight’s fur as she nuzzles into him. She presses her nose to his chin, and to my surprise, he lets out a low chuckle as she kisses him with a soft rub.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ty says, his tone oddly calm, his fingers scratching under Midnight’s chin like this entire scenario is natural.

For a second, my stomach flutters as I watch his tenderness toward Midnight and my guard falters, my eyes softening, but I catch myself quickly. Shaking my head to dismiss the haze of the twisted lust, I turn the key in the ignition and press my foot down on the gas, leaving the ghostly town behind.

…

As we drive toward the motel, the hum of the car feels deafening against my thoughts. Ty gives me directions in that clipped tone of his, but my mind is a tangled mess, circling around his diagnosis.

“Ty,” I start hesitantly, stealing a glance at him before focusing on the road again. “You know how you said you lied your way through Sacred Heights?”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed out the passenger-side window, but I can feel him tense slightly, debating whether to engage.

“What does that mean? And what does it mean for your diagnosis?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him sinking deeper into his seat, his jaw tightening as he thinks about responding.

“I’m still a fucking psychopath, Kitten. That’s what it means.”

My grip on the steering wheel increases and I glance at him again, his profile shadowed, before shifting my gaze back to the dark road ahead.

“But how can you be so sure?” I ask, a flicker of hope edging my tone, though I don’t know what I’m hoping for.

He lets out a sharp scoff, shaking his head as if I’ve asked the stupidest question in the world. “Kitten…” he warns, deep and dangerous, but I ignore it.

“I’m serious, Ty,” I insist. “How the fuck do you know you’re a psychopath?”

He rolls his eyes, his head falling back against the seat as if the conversation itself exhausts him. “Have you ever actually learned about a psychopath before, Raven?”

“Yes,” I snap. “Of course I did some research before I got into all this.”

“Then how the fuck can you not see it?”

I clench my jaw, my chin lifting defiantly as I keep my eyes on the road. I can feel his gaze boring into the side of my face, waiting for me to break under it.

“You’ll learn soon enough, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening into something colder. “Right now, you’re wasting your time. You’re digging for some kind of good in a man who’s fucking hollow and dead on the inside. As you once said… Remember?”

His words hit like a punch to the chest, and I swallow hard, my throat tightening. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am searching for something that doesn’t exist—a spark of humanity, because deep down, I can’t shake off the feeling that things aren’t as they seem.

Ty’s exactly what he’s shown me since the first day we met. A void wrapped in charm, a monster who doesn’t need to hide because he flourishes in the darkness.

“You saved me,” I murmur, jolting his memory of the two men he killed to protect me in some messed-up way.

“I saved you because I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he growls. “I took you because my mind couldn’t function when I knew you were out there and not beside me, where you belong as mine. Like a poison in my veins, a sick fucking craving I can’t shake. That, Kitten, is not out of any form of love; it’s out of pure selfish greed because I want you. I could never feel those fluffy emotions. I’m not fucking capable.”

The thought gnaws at me, strange and uncomfortable. A flicker of sadness blooms in my chest, soft and insistent, something I can’t shake. No one should live a life without ever feeling any form of love. Not even someone like him. The idea of him—cold, detached, a void where warmth should be—bothers me in a way I can’t explain.

He’s a killer. A psychopath, I remind myself. A man incapable of love, but even knowing that, my heart clenches with an emotion I don’t want to feel. A strange kind of pity, as if I’m mourning something that was never even there.

“So, why did you lie your way through Sacred Heights?” I ask, shifting in my seat.

He shrugs with carelessness. “To lessen the blow and the time. I knew if I told them everything they wanted to hear, I’d get out quicker and I fucking did.”

My gut churns with unease, making me wonder how many others have done the same. I think of Billy and how close he was to release despite being a ticking time bomb.

“Those doctors think they have it all figured out,” Ty says with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “But the psychopaths in there are running fucking rings around them. And the motherfuckers are just letting them out, sending them right back into society to pick up where they left off—murdering, raping and ruining lives.”

My stomach churns. “So, you knew others who were doing the same?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “It’s easy to spot when you know what you’re looking for.”

“And you think they should’ve gotten out? Like you?” I press, carefully.

For the first time, he hesitates, and I know something I said has unsettled him, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No.”

I glance at him and his dark eyes meet mine as he continues, each word razor-sharp. “Most of them didn’t deserve to get out. Some of them should’ve been hung, drawn and quartered as soon as they were fucking caught—for what they did to land there in the first place.”

I study him, trying to piece together the layers of contradiction in front of me. He’s capable of seeing the worst in others but blind to it in himself.

“So why didn’t you tell someone?”

“Because I had my own fucking plan.” His voice drops lower, colder. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you psychopaths only care about themselves, Kitten?”

His words prick at me, pushing me into defensiveness. “So, you don’t care about me?” I challenge, my chin lifting. “If I died tomorrow, how would you feel?”

His eyes narrow before a low, feral growl escapes his throat. “Murderous.” The word slashes between us like a promise. “But after I’ve burned the world down for taking you from me, I’d join your ass in hell.”

“Hell?” I echo while glancing at him.

“Yeah, my beautiful girl,” he responds, his lips curling into a wicked smirk, his dimples showing. “You know you sinned the moment you let the fucking devil brutally screw all three of your holes, right? Those delicious screams definitely earned you a place in hell.”

Heat floods through me, my thighs clenching involuntarily and I glance out the window beside me to distract myself from the feeling, but his words wrap around me like a fucking noose.

…

When we finally reach a deserted motel on the side of a lonely highway, the place looks as if it’s barely used. Old. Rough. Its cracked neon sign flickers, the word “Vacancy” buzzing like a dying fly. Ty’s iron grasp on my wrist, still cuffed to his, drags me toward the reception as I cradle Midnight against my chest.

“Keep your pretty head low, Kitten,” he murmurs firmly.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself, and drop my head as instructed. The sharp squeak of the door handle echoes in the near-silence when he pulls it open.

Inside, the reception area is as miserable as the outside—dim lighting, peeling wallpaper, and the faint stench of mold. At the desk, Ty leans forward and smacks the tiny bell with impatience. Moments later, an older woman shuffles out from the back, her movements sluggish. She doesn’t bother looking at us, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance.

“Name?” she rasps, her voice like sandpaper.

“We don’t have a name. We just need a room,” Ty responds, his tone rude, already annoyed with the interaction.

Her wrinkled face twists slightly, but she doesn’t lift her eyes. “I need a name,” she insists.

Ty sighs sharply, then slaps a thick wad of cash onto the counter and the sudden smack of money against wood makes me flinch.

“We’ll be here for the week,” he says, “No fucking name.”

The woman finally moves, her head lifting slightly, her expression sharp and calculating as she eyes the money. Slowly, she drags the stack toward herself with greedy fingers, licking them before she starts counting the bills one by one.

When she’s finished, she slides her gaze up to me, and her eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Midnight nestled in my arms.

“No pets.”

My stomach drops, and I hold Midnight closer, ready to protest, but Ty’s growl cuts through the tension like a blade. Without a word, he slams another stack of cash onto the counter, the impact making the woman recoil.

I glance at him in disbelief, wondering where the hell all this money is coming from, but Ty’s harsh glare keeps me silent.

The woman stares him down for a long moment, her jaw tight as if weighing the situation. Finally, with a huff of defeat, she snatches the second stack of money and begins counting again.

When she’s done, she slams a key down onto the counter, its metal jangling loudly in the quiet room.

“Room 106,” she spits out.

Ty snatches the key without a word and yanks me toward the door, Midnight still snug in my arms. Outside, the night is cold.

“Welcome home, my little Kitten’s,” Ty mutters, his voice laced with dark amusement as he leads me to our temporary sanctuary.

…

When we step into the motel room, I take a quick glance around. It’s better than the other two houses I’ve stayed in recently. Ty shuts the door behind us with a soft click, locking it without hesitation and I lower Midnight to the floor, watching her cautiously sniff around the unfamiliar space. I take a few steps forward, still feeling the handcuff on my wrist linked to his, restricting me.

“Where did you get all of that money, Ty?” I ask, knowing that came on a bit strong. But Ty would have lost everything the moment he killed his parents. That’s just the way the law works.

He clicks his tongue twice and shakes his head slightly, his hand setting my suitcase down.

“We’re not married yet, freckles,” he says. “You don’t need to know my finances.”

I roll my eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth at his ridiculousness.

“Married? Who said I’m marrying you?” I ask, arching a brow, my tone playful. “What a strange and bold way to propose.”

He doesn’t answer, just raises an emotionless brow at me, his dark gaze unwavering. I break the eye contact first, turning away to look around again, but I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, following my every move.

“Hmm... Where are you sleeping?” I tease again. “I guess the floor’s fine.”

Without warning, he yanks me forward by the handcuffs, pulling me into his hard chest. I gasp, the sudden movement catching me off guard, before he effortlessly lifts me, clutching the back of my thighs. A startled squeak escapes me as he strides toward the bed, throwing me down onto the mattress.

He follows, coming down on top of me, positioning himself between my legs, his body settling against me while he’s propped up on one elbow.

I smirk, staring up into his brown eyes, the intensity making my stomach flutter. My hand moves to his face, my fingers gently pushing his hood down. I grab his ski mask and yank it off, revealing his tousled black hair, falling messily over his eyes. I run my fingers through the back of it, the silky strands slipping between them as I pull him closer.

“Okay... You can stay in here with me,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to his lips, feeling the electric charge between us.

He smirks—just a hint of that devilish grin, the one that makes me weak.

“You didn’t think you actually had a choice, did you?” He asks darkly.

I stay silent, our eyes locked and I sense in that moment, something shifts between us, something subtle, yet unmistakable. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel it, deep inside me, a warmth that spreads like a slow burn, twisting and squeezing in my chest.

My hand moves to the side of his neck, fingers grazing the soft skin there. His gaze drops for a moment, as if he can sense it too, and I watch him—his body stiffening in the smallest of ways. I catch it though, the tension in his muscles, the tightening in his jaw.

He’s not used to this. He’s not used to affection. To someone being close, vulnerable, human with him.

When his eyes lift to mine again, I feel mine soften but he instantly breaks eye contact, like he’s trying to push me away, dismiss me without a second thought. The space between us feels colder, more distant as he leans over, unlocking the cuff from my wrist. The weight of his body withdraws from mine, and I feel the heat leave me.

I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling, a few seconds stretching too long and out of the corner of my eye, I see him heading toward the bathroom door, moving like he’s already shutting me out.

“Tell me, Ty,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended but still firm.

He stops instantly, but remains silent, his back still to me. I sit up quickly, the movement almost desperate, and scoot off the bed. My feet hit the floor with a soft thud as I stand, my body trembling with the weight of what I’m about to say.

“Tell me everything. I need to understand.” The words come out more like a plea, but I stand taller. “There’s more to you. I can feel it.”

He side-eyes me briefly, a flash of something unreadable before he looks away again, closing off. His silence is like a wall and my chest knots with frustration. I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes, but I force them back.

“You say you want me,” I continue, my voice cracking. “You kill people, but you can’t even find the fucking balls to tell me why.” The words spill out before I can stop them, raw and real, full of the anger and hurt.

He lifts his chin, taking a deep inhale. I blink, and before I can stop them, the tears I’ve been holding back spill down my cheeks.

“Do you not know how hard this is for me?” I say, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “I couldn’t be there for my dad. I couldn’t help him in even the smallest way, but if I would’ve known...”

My chest constricts as I inhale shakily, trying to keep the hurt from consuming me, but it wraps around me, a suffocating weight that causes my body to tremble.

“And now I have to sit here, working out where your mind is. Why you do the things you do. Why the fuck we’re here. Whats going to happen next. What’s going to happen to YOU next.” My voice breaks, the vulnerability slipping through my defences before I can stop it. “It’s killing me, Ty. Please.”

I take a step forward, the words tumbling out faster now, desperate, as though I’m afraid if I don’t say them, I’ll lose this connection entirely. “I fucking beg you. Let me in. I can’t work you out.”

He doesn’t react immediately, and then, finally, his words cut through the silence. “Why do you want to, Kitten?” His tone is cold, devoid of any emotion.

I freeze. It’s a valid question, and I don’t have a clear answer. Is it just curiosity that pulls me toward him, or is it something deeper? A strange tug that grows stronger every time we’re near each other. Every time we connect in the most messed up ways.

Am I sinking into his hold, giving pieces of myself to someone who thrives on control, on darkness?

Or am I falling for him, in some fucked way, afraid that I could lose him like I did my dad?

Or am I seeing something that isn’t even visible. Something that makes me believe there’s more to him than he’s ever shown me. Something good.

When he turns to face me, I choke on air. His gaze locks onto mine, assessing me, studying the tear-streaked mess of my face. I want to look away, but something keeps me rooted and I stand firm.

His eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tensing and for a split second, I wonder if he’s about to push me away again, to break whatever fragile bond we have.

“Tonight,” he says, his tone final. My brows crease in confusion, but before I can ask, he continues. “I’ll show you everything you need to see tonight. Wrap up warm.”

Show me? I ask myself, but before I can challenge his words, he turns and enters the bathroom, locking it behind him.