Chapter Eight

Raven

I wake with a groan, my skull throbbing, and rub my sore eyes. When I finally manage to open them, a burning ache spreads, the harsh morning light searing through the thin crack in the curtains, a blinding beam that feels like it’s slicing right through me. I roll onto my side, groggy, reaching out instinctively as Midnight brushes up against my arm. But as my gaze falls on the pillow beside me, my blood runs cold.

There, lying on the silk—like some twisted fucking macabre prize—is Mike’s eyeball. Staring right at me.

A scream rips from my throat, raw and panicked, as I fling myself out of bed, stumbling backward until I hit the wall. My eyes stay glued to the grotesque thing on my pillow, frozen in horror. My entire body trembles, the edges of my vision blurring as flashes of last night’s nightmare creep back—Ty, his hands dripping with Mike’s blood, the sickening sound of when he shoved his fingers into his socket.

For. Looking. At. Me.

I can almost feel his presence in the room, and I sense the smell of him. A wave of nausea rolls over me, but I force myself to move, yanking a tissue from the box on my bedside table. With a shaking hand, I reach forward and cover the eyeball, then recoil as I cringe.

Asshole.

If I wasn’t so terrified I might have laughed at the insanity of it. But this is no joke. He left the fucking eyeball there to taunt me. To show he isn’t going to leave me alone. To make me realize he has been in here, watching me while I sleep like a creep.

Straightening up, I spin around, my heart racing as my gaze darts across the room. That’s when I see it—the bedroom door, wide open. I spot something on the floor, and I slowly creep toward it, my eyes narrowing. When I’m close enough, I lean down, noticing tiny dots of red scattering on the wood.

I mutter to myself in disbelief, “Is that fucking blood? He was in here… and I didn’t even hear him?”

Last night I was exhausted—dead to the world, a heavy sleeper, but still, how didn’t I hear him? This house creaks and groans every time you move. I cover my mouth with my hand, the realization that I’m not safe, not here, settling in like a stone in my stomach.

A sudden, loud knock rattles the door downstairs, and I jump, snapping upright. Quickly, I tie my robe around my waist and lift Midnight onto my chest, cradling her tightly as I make my way downstairs, each step slow and cautious. As I reach the living room, the knock comes again—firmer this time.

“Who is it?” I call out, trying to keep my tone steady, but the thought gnaws at me: What if it’s Ty? But then again, I’m starting to realize he isn’t the type of guy to knock.

I wait, breath held, holding Midnight a little tighter as the silence stretches out longer than it should.

“It’s the cops, ma’am.” A male voice calls out, unfamiliar and stern.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulse spiking. There’s a goddamn eyeball and blood upstairs. I quickly smooth down my hair, creeping toward the door. When I crack it open and peer around the edge, two older cops stand there, observing me.

“Good morning, ma’am. We’d like to ask you a few questions about an incident at the bar you were at last night.”

My brows knit instinctively, realizing that I’m probably an accomplice at this point since I didn’t call them last night like I’d planned to before Ty took my phone.

“Incident?” I echo, playing innocent.

One of them nods while the other just studies me, his gaze piercing, like he already knows I’m hiding something. My throat narrows, but I step back and let them in, watching as they scan the shabby room. I set Midnight down, and she tiptoes away as they continue to assess their surroundings.

“You own this property, Miss?” one asks, and I shake my head, crossing my arms.

“Ms Tate and no, I’m renting it for the month while I work at Sacred Heights.”

They exchange a glance before one pulls out a notepad. “You were at Little Bottles Bar last night, right?”

My stomach knots, but I keep my face neutral. “What’s this about?” I ask, though I already know exactly why they’re here.

“There was an extremely violent crime last night,” one officer says, his tone even but probing. “After speaking to a witness, we were led here. You were with Mike Wright and Jessica Lanyard, correct?”

I nod slowly, feeling the heaviness of their stares as he presses on. “Can you tell us what happened?”

I take a slow, steadying exhale, shifting on my feet. “We had a drink,” I start, “and then Jess had to leave for work for about an hour. I stayed with Mike, but…” I pause, glancing between them, hoping my face doesn’t betray me. “He disappeared, so I just… went home.”

“Disappeared?” One asks, taking notes.

“That’s right,” I say, lifting my chin a little. “I went to the jukebox to choose a song and when I returned to the bar, he was gone. I’m not familiar with the area, I’d only just met them and once I was left there alone, I just… decided to leave.”

The officer nods, his eyes dropping back to his notepad. “Did you see anything or anyone suspicious? Anyone who looked… off?”

I shake my head. “No, I just kept to myself, listened to the music and had a few drinks. I wasn’t there very long. Maybe an hour max.”

My mouth feels dry as sand, and I shift slightly, then look up at them, widening my eyes just enough. “Wait… is everyone okay? Was anyone hurt?” I ask, letting a hint of worry soften my voice.

The officer’s expression darkens slightly. “Mike is in very serious condition at the hospital. I can’t share more at this time, but we may need to come back for further questions. We’re looking at all witnesses very closely.”

His words make me panic. Could I get into serious trouble for all this, for all of Ty’s bizarre ways. What if they think I was involved? What if it’s all twisted around on me? What if SHA gets wind of this?

The thought makes my head spin, so I keep up the innocence, and my hand moves to my chest, letting out a soft gasp in surprise. “What? But what happened? Will he be okay? And Jess… is she okay?”

The officer gives a small nod, but his face is unreadable as they both head toward the door. “We hope so,” he says over his shoulder.

As they open the door and start to leave, I call out after them. “If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to contact me!”

Once they’re gone, I shut the door and lean back against it, breathing hard through my mouth, trying to slow my racing heart. My hands are shaking, and I stare down at them, gripping the door for stability. That was… strange. Their questions were so short, almost careless. But one thing is clear: I need to get out of here. Today.

Screw this job. This small town. This madness. Ty. I’m done with it all. With him lurking around every corner, there’s no settling here. I can’t be involved in all this.

…

After scrubbing this house clean with bleach and discarding Mike’s eyeball down the toilet, ironically, the day has turned into early evening. I have my suitcase packed, bumping it down the stairs. I thought it would probably be better if I left when it’s dark, when neighbours can’t see me make my escape. I drag my suitcase across the wood before placing Midnight’s crate down. I crouch, opening the little door, ushering her in, but she just stares at me from a distance.

“Come on, Midnight, get inside. I’m going to take you somewhere safe baby.” I say gently, but still, she refuses.

Suddenly there’s a frantic knock at the door and I bolt upright.

“Raven? Raven? Are you in there?” Jess’s voice comes through the wood and my eyes expand.

Shit.

“Just a second!” I call back as I smooth my black dress down with my trembling hands. I then stride toward the door.

I click the lock and slowly open it, peering around it. My eyes instantly meet Jess’s, red and wet. She moves forward, giving me no choice but to let her in and I step back. With the door still open, I turn to face her and before I know it, she’s throwing her arms around me. I tense up as she sobs into my shoulder hysterically.

“He’s dead!” She wails into my ear, her body shaking uncontrollably.

My eyes almost bulge out of my head, “What?” I gasp in actual shock, my hand finding her back.

“I just got the call...” she sobs, “He’s dead!”

Guilt twists inside me, sharper than anything I’ve ever felt. For the first time—even with all my experience as a therapist—I’m completely speechless, unable to find any words to comfort her. She pulls back, sniffling, rubbing at her swollen eyes.

“They said he had drugs on him… that he might have been involved in dealing.” She shakes her head, her gaze darting around the room, avoiding mine.

“But he wasn’t like that, Raven,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. “He was innocent. He never did anything wrong. He was a good man.”

I press down the cyclone of feelings rising inside me—the part of me that wants to ask why a “good man” would try to spike my drink. Was Ty right? Was Mike planning to do something to me? Or was that just another one of his games? A reason to kill an innocent man out of white-hot jealousy.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, dropping my gaze to the floor. “The police came today, and I told them he just… disappeared when I went to the jukebox, and then I left.”

She gives a small nod, not pressing me any further, but her eyes drift around the room until they finally landing on my suitcase.

“Are you leaving?” she asks, her gaze snapping back to me and my stomach drops.

“Uh… yeah, I am,” I reply, scrambling for an excuse until one pops into my head. “It’s this house. The damp’s been getting to my lungs. I’m going to check into a local motel I think.”

A flicker of hope lights in her eyes, her face softening. “Why don’t you stay with me? Please, Raven... I could really use the company now. I’m not far from here.”

My mind races, trying to think of a way out, but then something catches my eye. Midnight, usually terrified of the outside, is slowly edging toward the open front door. My breath hitches. She’s never shown any interest in the outdoors before.

“Midnight?” I call softly, distracted, as she pauses at the threshold.

Without warning, she bolts, darting over the threshold and out into the fog-laden street. A gasp escapes me, my heart lurching as I race forward, watching her small shape slipping further into the shadows toward the pitch-black cemetery across the road.

“Midnight!” I call out, my voice shaky, but she just keeps going, the faint ringing of her collar bell fading into the dark.

“Shit!” I hiss, glancing back at Jess and without thinking, I grab her hand, pulling her out the door as I slam it shut behind us.

“I’ll be back!” I shout, already dashing forward in my bare feet, the cold pavement stinging as I head toward the graveyard. The fog thickens, swallowing up Midnight and leaving me chasing shadows as I plunge deeper into the dark.

Nothing matters except getting her back.

I sprint between the tombstones, eyes darting through the gloom.

“Midnight!” I call again, but she’s already too far gone.

I push harder, following the small jingle of her bell like a beacon. Soon she’s leading me into the dense woods beyond the cemetery, disappearing further into the darkness.

“Midnight!” I yell again, feeling desperate.

As I enter without hesitation, the forest feels strange, eerily quiet except for the pounding of my own pulse in my ears. The atmosphere is heavy here, the odour of damp earth and decay clinging to everything. I push through the undergrowth and my doubts, my feet slipping on wet leaves and sodden mud, branches scratching at my bare arms and legs as I stumble forward.

Then, through the trees, I see it and stop dead in my tracks. A huge clearing and a silhouette of an abandoned, gothic-like mansion, rises out of the haze. Vines crawl up its stone walls, and the windows are dim, like empty eyes staring into nothingness, but Midnight’s outline captures my attention, darting in front of the entrance, vanishing into the shadow of the door.

A tremor snakes up my spine. Something about this place doesn’t feel right—like I’m about to walk into something that I might never come back from. But I have no choice. Midnight is my entire world. She’s all I have. I can’t leave without her.

The mist swirls around my feet, clinging to the ground like it doesn’t want me to move forward, but I need to. As I reach the bottom of the stone steps, I tiptoe upward toward the huge door, glancing behind me, almost expecting someone to be there, but there isn’t.

When I reach the top, I notice the front door is slightly ajar, its rusty hinges creaking in the wind. I freeze for a second, questioning my life choices. Then, I feel my feet shifting forward again until I’m pressing my trembling hand on the damp wood, pushing it open.

Inside, dust settles in thick layers on everything and in the back of my throat. The grand foyer is dim, the only light coming from the windows, casting everything in a pale, ghostly glow. I glance around; the space feels antique, as if it’s been forgotten for decades. The staircase ahead is dark, the banister cracked and twisted, but I barely notice—my attention is on where Midnight might be.

“Midnight?” I whisper shout as the door softly closes behind me. Every part of me screams to get the fuck out of here, but my stubbornness stops me. I must find her.

Midnight’s small, weak meow comes from somewhere above me, echoing down the hallway, and I follow the sound.

Each step on the staircase creaks, louder than it should, the old wood protesting under my weight. The walls are lined with faded wallpaper, peeling at the edges, revealing more of the dark wood beneath.

“Midnight?” I call again, my voice trembling. I hear another meow, closer this time, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The top of the stairs is even darker as I reach the landing; there’s hardly any light.

I hear the soft jingle of her bell, distant at first, then unmistakable as it grows louder. I whip around, and there she is—Midnight—dashing down the corridor toward me. I feel my shoulders sag, by body relaxing, but it’s short-lived. I take a few frantic steps forward, desperate to grab her, to get the fuck out of here, but then I stop dead in my tracks.

She’s not moving toward me. She’s standing still, just a few feet away, staring intently at something in the wall—her body stiff, her tail twitching.

My brows furrow in confusion as I shift forward, my voice low, coaxing, “Midnight, come on, baby, let’s go.” But she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even flinch.

I click my tongue, the sound familiar, the same way I do when I have treats. Still, she doesn’t budge. Her amber eyes remain fixed on the low, square opening in the wall, unblinking, almost hypnotized by whatever’s beyond it.

I move closer and just as I step within arm’s reach, Midnight does something I can’t understand. She walks forward, casual and unhurried, but as she does, she disappears. My heart stops as I freeze in place, my blood turning to ice. My eyes are wide, unblinking, unable to tear themselves away from the spot where she was just standing.

I shakily walk forward and soon the black square in the wall becomes clearer with each step. I stop just in front of it, my eyes glued to the jagged edges, the darkness summoning me like a void that has no end. Without thinking, my hand reaches out, trembling as I stretch it toward the opening. The moment my fingers make contact, a chill runs up my spine, and my hand disappears into the emptiness, swallowed as if the wall itself is devouring me.

Panic surges but I drop to my knees, the cold floor rough beneath me, and I peer into the crawl space—utter blackness stretching into infinity. I know it’s irrational, that every part of me is screaming to get away from this place, but... But Midnight’s down there.

When I hear her small meow again but from somewhere inside the damn hole, I quickly rub the tears off my cheeks, and I start to inch forward.

Fuck, I must be out of my damn mind.

As soon as one of my arms enters, something suddenly clamps around my wrist, yanking me forward with brutal force. A petrified scream tears from my throat, reverberating in the suffocating darkness. I’m dragged violently through the pitch-black, claustrophobic tunnel, my nails clawing desperately at the rough surface in a useless attempt to slow the relentless pull.

Then, just as quick as it began, I’m released and my body collapses as my heart pounds wildly, threatening to burst from my chest. I hesitate, dread coiling around my spine as I slowly lift my head, worried about what I am about to see next.

I immediately see a big room in front of me. A dimly lit space with low beams that crisscross above. The smell of old wood and dust fills the air. A wooden chair sits abandoned in the center of the room and a sagging couch lingers in the corner, the fabric worn thin. A couple of bookcases stand against the walls, their shelves overcrowded with faded books. But it’s the window that grabs my attention.

A huge, floor-to-ceiling mosaic circle window dominates the far wall, its complex design hardly visible beneath layers of newspaper scraps, taped tightly over every inch, blocking out the light.

I push up on my shaky arms and drag the rest of my body out of the narrow space. When I’m standing upright, I brush the dust from my dress while taking it all in. This place feels forgotten, hidden away in the depths of the house.

Then, a soft sound—a close jingle of Midnight’s collar.

I swiftly turn, my heart pounding in my chest staring blankly into the shadows, but just as I’m about to move forward, a large figure steps out. My breath gets stuck in my throat, and for a moment, everything goes still. His dark eyes lock onto mine, piercing and cold, his face half-covered by a hood and a ski mask.

In his arms: Midnight.

She’s calm, purring softly as he mindlessly scratches beneath her chin, but his entire focus is now on me. My legs go weak, I want to move, but I can’t. I just stand there, stiff, my watery eyes darting between Midnight and Ty, my body shouting at me to act, but my mind can’t catch up.

“Give her to me,” I demand quietly, but shakily as a tear escapes and trails down my cheek. I reach out, but he doesn’t do anything. He just continues to stare at me, as if he hadn’t heard a word I said.

“FUCKING GIVE HER TO ME!” I scream, my voice cracking with the rawness of it all, but again, he doesn’t flinch. There’s no emotion.

I glance to the black void in the wall, my only escape, but I know better. This fucker knows I won’t leave without my baby.

“What do you want?” I choke out, the realization hitting me hard—he lured me in here using her, my one weakness, the only thing that can hurt me.

I lower my head, and he takes slow steps forward, walking around me like I’m a caged animal. He stops behind me, dipping his head until his mouth is close to my ear.

“You,” he whispers, the single word hanging in the air like a dark promise and my eyes squeeze shut, dread coursing through me.

“I told you, you can’t have me.” I force the words out, lifting my chin to appear braver than I feel.

He chuckles softly, circling me like a predator sizing up his prey. “You talk as if you have a choice, Raven. But here with me? There are no fucking choices.”

I bite down on my teeth as he stops in front of me, his gaze piercing through mine. “You can’t just keep me here.”

“Oh, I can, beautiful girl,” his voice is calm, terrifyingly confident before he leans in, his face mere inches from mine, his eyes reflecting a possessive glint. “You were trying to escape me, and I can’t lose you.”

A flicker of confusion crosses my face. “Lose me? Escape you?” I whisper, searching his eyes.

He raises his hand, and I instinctively flinch, but his fingers tighten in the back of my neck, pulling me close, forcing my face dangerously near his.

“Don’t worry, Kitten. I’ll take care of you.”

“I won’t say anything. I won’t tell anyone about last night. Just let me go and I’ll…” I force the words out, desperation laced in each syllable.

He scoffs lightly, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “Do you think I give a fuck about being caught, Raven?” I halt as he continues. “I’ve always had one plan, and now, you’re woven into it. Whatever comes after doesn’t matter, but right now? Right now, I’m going to relish every single second of my freedom... and my plans. You.”

“Why?” I murmur, feeling a deep chill as his eyes roam over my tear-streaked face, drinking in every ounce of my fear. “Why me?”

“Because I want to tear down every piece of you, break you until you’re mine only. I want you to see the world through the nightmare of my mind, to taste what stirs inside me.”

“But…”

“I’m going to pull you into my insanity, Kitten,” he growls, his fingers sliding around to rest against the base of my throat, squeezing just enough to send a thrill of panic through me. “You’ll feel the darkness seep into your skin, infect your every last innocent thought. It’ll suffocate your fucking senses, so deeply that soon you won’t know how to breathe without me.”

My lips part to speak, but he beats me to it, voice cold and unyielding. “You’re going to do as you’re told, or this will get a lot worse for you. It’ll be easier if you just surrender now, accept what’s coming.”

A sour laugh escapes before I can stop it. It’s the only coping mechanism I have left.

“Is that why I’m here? Why you’ve trapped me?” I bite out, forcing myself to look him in the eye, my voice dripping with bitterness. “Because you want to fuck me?” The words come out more eager than I intended, but the question is raw. If that’s all this is, I’ll grit my teeth, spread my legs and let him have his way with my pussy if it means he’ll let me go. He’s already fucked me with a damn knife.

His lips curl into a twisted smirk, his gaze traveling down to my heaving breasts, lingering with a cruel consideration.

“Or just stare at you,” he murmurs, taking a slow step back, analyzing me as if I’m some haunting sculpture he can’t look away from. “I’m not fussy, freckles. But eating your pussy is definitely at the top of my list of things to do.”

His stare feels like it could strip away my clothes, the tension wrapping around my lungs and core, stealing my breath. My pulse hammers, every instinct begging me to try to run, but his intense eyes have me trapped in place, as if he’s consuming every single ounce of fear and probably a bit of arousal he just unleashed.

But there’s something deeper behind his intentions. A cold dread sinks into my stomach as I realize: there’s no reasoning with him. Not like this. I’m no longer in a safe environment. I’m standing in an abandoned fucking building with my obsessed, psychopathic patient who’s very capable of switching and killing me.

Every part of me wants to disarm him with words, but my inner therapist is lost, buried under terror, the darkness I once felt few two years ago, slowly sweeping through my veins. I swallow hard, the reality crashing down—I’m not the observer in this moment, I’m his prey.

“Hold out your wrist,” he orders, his voice a low threat.

As he leans down to set Midnight on the floor, I move without thinking—my knee driving up toward his face, but he’s faster. His jerks back, his hand catching my throat, forcing me onto my tiptoes and his other hand lands on my asscheek with a bruising tightness, pulling me close before he lifts me.

I scream with everything I have, kicking out wildly, but he manoeuvres me like I’m nothing more than a damn doll, forcing me down to straddle his crotch on the unstable wooden chair.

“Get off me, prick!”

I thrash against him, desperate, but his hold is unbreakable. In one swift motion, he aggressively forces both of my wrists behind me, and cold metal snaps over them, biting into my skin as he locks handcuffs around the,.

“Fuck. Your screams are delicious, Kitten.”

My pulse hammers as I struggle against the cuffs, but I feel stuck, my chest rising and falling as panic sets in.

“Look at you,” he mutters, satisfaction in his eerily calm tone that annoys me to no end. “Fight all you want, but like I said, there’s no escaping us and what we have.”

I bring my face dangerously close to his, my teeth biting, “I fucking hate you!”

He doesn’t recoil, he just peers into my angry eyes and how relaxed he is annoys me further. I groan, lowering my head, my red hair falling forward to shield my face, but I barely have a second to think before his hand snaps up to my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

Our eyes lock, and a sinister smirk plays on his lips. Then, his fingers slide through my hair with a strange tenderness, brushing it back over my shoulders so that he can see me more clearly.

“You look so pretty when you’re scared of me, freckles,” he growls and my teeth grind down, trying to push back the array of emotions that overwhelm me.

His hand drops to my bare thigh, his touch slow, possessive and I jolt, trying to pull back, but he grips tighter, refusing to let me move. He keeps his dark gaze on mine, his hands gliding upward along my skin, under my short dress until it’s wrapped around my bare asscheek. He grabs it hard, pulling me up his thighs, positioning me exactly where he wants.

Suddenly he flicks a knife out with his free hand, pressing the sharp blade firmly on my throat and I instinctively raise my chin, holding my breath.

“You’re going to come like this, Kitten. By grinding your deprived little pussy against my dick,” he demands with no room for refusal.

A pulse of fear floods through me as I feel the very big outline of his hard cock against me, pressing through the thin barrier of my panties. My body betrays me as warmth coils in my pussy, tight and unsettling, and I clench my fists, fighting against the sensation building between us.

He wraps his fingers around the thin strap of my panties, and with a swift yank, it snaps, falling uselessly. His hand finds my bare hip, grabbing it with a greedy dominance as he grinds me down onto him, forcing me to move.

“Ty,” I gasp out, my eyes instinctively shutting. “Shit.”

The tension between my thighs intensifies as the length of his dick slides up and down the slit of my pussy, teasing and compelling me to feel every inch. I desperately try to shut out the sensations that threaten to pull me under, but his hold on me keeps tightening, sinking me deeper into his control.

As the pressure builds, my hips start to buck involuntarily, pressing against him, the friction making me pulse with an urgent need. Before I can gather my senses, he seizes the moment, his hand slipping around the curve of my ass, fingers grabbing the delicate fabric of my panties and he rips them clean off my body with an aggressive force. A shiver runs through me, my mind momentarily blank as I’m too consumed by arousal and horror.

“Don’t you fucking stop or I’ll slice this pretty throat and fuck your dead, bloodied body anyway,” he grits out with animalistic frustration.

He hikes my dress up, exposing my lower half, and my hips move frantically, stupidly desperate for more, as if I know no restraint on my own damn morals. The rough fabric of his jeans rubs against my exposed clit, dampening with a trail of my come and he growls in response, the sound deep and dark, His gaze locks with mine—fierce, as if he’s claiming me, as if he might snap at any moment and pull his cock out so I can ride it.

“Such a needy, little kitten,” he mutters, pressing the blade more firmly against my skin until I feel the sharp sting as it nicks me.

A trickle of blood slips down my chest as his big, warm hand slides up my body under my dress, holding the small of my waist harshly. He leads my movements, each stroke along his shaft igniting a spark of desire and my body betrays me—shaking, trembling, as if it has a mind of its own.

I mindlessly shift my pussy at just the right angle so I can chase my looming climax, moans spilling from my lips shamelessly. Then, with a sudden rush, a wave of pleasure explodes through me like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The orgasm slams into my entire body in blissful convulsions, and I’m left gasping, quaking in the wake of it.

I hear him groan, his forehead slamming against my chest, and that’s when I feel it—his big cock pulsing beneath me, thrumming in sync with my throbbing pussy.

Fuck... he just came too? I’ve never made a guy cum like that before. Not just from grinding my pussy on his dick. I’m not sure if he planned to do that.

His knife slips from his hand, hitting the floor with a loud thud, and we both pause, caught in the aftermath of what just happened, both struggling to breathe. Then, without warning, he stands, keeping me locked around him.

My legs cling to him as he moves, taking us a few steps before, in one swift motion, he drops me onto the cold floor. I land hard on my ass with a groan. He leans over, unlocking one handcuff, but my momentary freedom is brief. Before I can react, he snaps it around an old radiator behind me.

“Ty…” I murmur, my voice soft, trying to reason with him, but he doesn’t even glance my way anymore.

Shame fills every part of me. FUCK. I can’t believe I just came on him like that. I was stupidly weak in that moment, like some desperate little slut and he relished every second of it. He knows what he’s doing.

I watch him intently through a blurred, teary stare as he strolls over to a small fireplace I didn’t even noticed in the shadows before and he flicks out a lighter, crouching down in front of it.

He lifts an old piece of newspaper, the fire engulfing it and lighting up the dark, large room before he tosses it inside. A shiver runs through me, his heat on my skin just a moment ago gradually slipping away. My breath is visible in the cold air, and I huddle against the radiator.

Soon the fireplace is fully ablaze, and slowly, the room is being filled with a warmth I desperately needed. I start thinking about how I’m going to get out of here. Maybe Jess will call for help. Maybe I’ll be saved. Then my mind returns to Ty as he walks around the room, gathering cushions and blankets, now not willing to talk with me.

I can’t help my mind turning to more sexual thoughts after that just happened. Is he a virgin? I mean, it would make sense right? Fifteen years in an asylum since he was only thirteen. How he just came from the friction between us so easily. But then again, so did I and I’m not a virgin. Maybe he was just turned on just as much as I was.

But it makes me realize, I don’t really know much about him at all. Yeah, I know what he’s done. The bad things about him, but who’s he beyond that? Who has he been for the past fifteen years? Why does he want me out of all the women he could have?

It’s no secret that psychopaths become obsessive with frightening speed. When the urge consumes them, they take what they want, regardless of the cost. They think of themselves as superior—untouchable—and they alone hold the truth, even if the path they take is nothing short of monstrous. Empathy is foreign to them, and they can’t grasp the same emotions as others can. Their world is one of control, where morality is twisted to fit their needs, and their ability for cruelty knows no limit.

But one thing Dr Moss said about Ty still lingers in my mind—he’s on the mid-scale of psychopathy. Does that mean there’s still something inside him I can reach? Some flicker of humanity, a shred of remorse, buried deep beneath the surface? Or is that just me being desperate?

Sometimes, to outsmart a psychopath, you have to step into his mind, even if you risk becoming a part of the darkness yourself. Maybe I can turn his obsession with me into my weapon, use it to my advantage. It’s a dangerous game, but what other choice do I have? Have I ever tried to manipulate a patient before? No. Could I fail, utterly and horribly? It’s possible. But I have little choice.

What if, once he’s finished with me, he decides I’m no longer useful? What if I’m just killed and discarded—buried somewhere, where no one will ever find me? Because let’s face it, who the fuck would even notice I’m gone anyway? Maybe he knows that. Maybe I’m his easy target.

I observe him from a distance as his fingers brush through Midnight’s fur. She purrs under his touch, content and trusting beside him, which is unsettling.

How the hell did she manage to bait me here? The thought nags at me. Midnight’s always been cautious of other people, but now she’s at his side like she’s known him forever. It doesn’t make sense. She’s who led me here. Pulled me right into his wicked embrace. She’s part of it. They worked together to bring me into his trap.

I lower my gaze, a sense of betrayal twisting in my chest—until he rises, standing tall and yanks his hoodie over his head in one quick movement.

I stare at him, unable to stop myself. His body is lean and ripped, I already knew it would be, but what shocks me are the scars—small and large slashes carved into almost every inch of his skin. Even from this distance, I can see them clearly, marks that his documents never mentioned. My brows knit in confusion. None of his files ever suggested an accident or some form of self-harm, so how did he get so scarred?

As he turns his back to me, undoing his belt, he kicks off his boots, moving with confidence. My eyes drift over his physique, captivated, unable to peel my gaze away. He’s not overly broad, although he’s extremely tall, but each muscle is defined, flexing with every movement, and I can’t even deny it—the sight of him, scarred and bare in front of me, is as frightening as it is alluring. He’s fucking dangerously beautiful.

I force myself to look away, desperate to rein in any drop of attraction—or worse, attachment—to him. This ain’t right. None of it is. He has me captive, for fuck’s sake. He just pressed a knife to my throat and ordered me to hump his dick through his jeans. And I did. I foolishly humped until I came. Until he came. Shit.

But when he slips off his pants and boxers, my eyes deceive me, drawn back to him, catching his firm ass and legs which are also scarred. He’s clearly not shy, maybe a little too brazen actually, despite the fact that he could be a virgin.

He pulls on clean gray sweatpants, leaving his torso bare before he moves to set up what looks like a makeshift bed on the floor. Once he’s finished, he strides over to me, and I quickly drop my gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch the mess of feelings he’s building inside of me.

He crouches, his intense stare fixed on my pale face as he unlocks one of the handcuffs and before I can even register the relief, he snaps it around his own wrist, locking us together. My eyes fly to his, but his expression is blank. Without a word, he stands, pulling me up with a swift tug that leaves me stumbling behind him as he crosses the room.

He drops onto the blankets and pillows spread by the fire, yanking me down with him, and I awkwardly land on top of him. Quickly, I roll off in panic, settling beside him, keeping my head down. He stays on his back, but I can feel his eyes on me, studying me carefully, our arms bound together above us. He reaches down, tossing a blanket over my body, easing some of the cold that’s seeped into my bones.

Midnight makes her way over with casual confidence, climbing across me to curl into a ball between us. I pull my arm from beneath the blanket to stroke her, feeling her silky fur brush through my fingertips as she drifts into sleep.

She may have betrayed me tonight, but she’s still my little traitor.

For some time, we just lie there, the fire crackling and filling the silence. Eventually, I glance up at Ty, watching him stare up into the darkness, his other arm resting behind his head, making his muscles appear even more sharp.

“What is this place, Ty?” I ask softly, breaking the quiet, hoping to slip past whatever walls he’s built around himself.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink, just stares upward, his only reaction a subtle clench of his jaw. The slight agitation fuels my curiosity, and I find my eyes wandering over him now that he’s so close. I trace the scars covering his skin, each one a secret that draws me in deeper.

Slowly, I lift my hand away from Midnight, feeling a slight tremor in my fingers as I reach over, wanting to touch one of those marks.

He suddenly looks down at me, a harsh warning flashing in his dark eyes. I recoil slightly, my heart stumbling, my hand frozen midair. But instead of backing down from him, I find myself pushing him further, testing his boundaries.

Warily, I reach out again, my fingers hovering just above his flesh, feeling the heat radiating from him. Until, finally, I lower it onto his abs. Instantly, they tighten beneath my touch, his teeth clenching before he pointedly shifts his gaze back to the ceiling, allowing me this small victory, even if he’s clearly pissed off about it for some reason.

My fingers tremble as I trace one of the more deeper scars on his skin, the ridges hard, and my mind becomes tangled with questions about the history etched into him.

“Did this happen at SHA?” I murmur, barely clear, hoping he’ll speak to me about it, but also needing to keep the question away from his childhood, just in case.

At first, he doesn’t answer, as if deciding whether he’ll let me in. His eyes flicker all over the shadowed ceiling until finally, he speaks, his tone flat and distant.

“I fell through a greenhouse roof when I was a kid after climbing it. It shredded me to pieces.”

That would explain why it was never in his notes. There wouldn’t have been a reason for it to be if it was an accident and it happened before he killed his parents. But I start wondering why not his face? It’s flawless, but I don’t press any further. For now.

My gaze trails slowly until it lands on a bloodied mark, hardly visible between the curves of his abs. I lift my head slightly, taking in the wound—the one I inflicted on him last night with that knife. A sigh escapes me, tired and heavy, as the reality of it all smashes down on me. So much has happened since I set foot in this small, creepy town. I can feel everything spiraling further out of my control, slipping through my grasp like sand.

“You left that eyeball on my pillow, Ty,” I say, pulling my hand away from his abs, feeling the weight of each word.

“I know,” he replies, not offering the slightest hint of explanation, so I press on.

“The police came to ask about Mike. He was in serious condition in the hospital…”

“And?” His tone is cold, indifferent, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling as if none of this concerns him.

I swallow, feeling a surge of frustration at his relaxed dismissal. “Then his girlfriend came by later that evening to tell me he’s dead.”

“Good,” he says flatly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “That’s what happens to cunts who fuck around, Raven. They find out.”

I bite back a sassy comeback, rolling my eyes at his lack of regret. But before I can respond, he turns his body toward me, shifting until his head rests on my pillow, his face inches from mine. Our noses almost touch, and I feel my breath stop as his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, his attention unwavering.

“Did you tell them it was me, Kitten?” he whispers, his smoky breath kissing my lips.

I hesitate, memories flashing through my mind of last night and his antics. I didn’t tell them of course. I’d lied, covering for him yet again. And he knows it.

“I plan to when I get the chance. You took my phone.” I reply, tilting my chin defiantly, challenging him.

His lips jerk, a spark of laughter dancing in his intense dark eyes, glinting in the firelight.

“Of course you do, beautiful girl. What is this? The third or fourth time?”

My jaw tenses as I glance down, breaking eye contact, hating the fact he’s right. I’d destroyed everything I believe in, for him. I should have turned him in as soon as he laid his hands on me in Sacred Heights, but facts are facts, if I did, I probably wouldn’t have survived Billy.

“I like to see the good in people, Ty,” I murmur, my gaze trailing slowly up the expanse of his body, lingering on every scar, until my eyes find his again. “I want to believe they can come out of the darkness. Everyone has a light somewhere. No one is completely… evil.”

He studies me for a long second, as if weighing my words against a truth he’s known far too well, and I continue.

“I gave you a few chances because you were so close to your release… I thought you deserved a chance at life.”

Slowly, he lifts his hand, the back of his fingers brushing my cheek, and I feel myself tense as his thumb traces over my bottom lip.

“And that’s where you were so fucking wrong, Kitten.” His voice drops to a low hum, as if he’s letting me in on a secret.

“You’re staring evil in the face right now—not just in me, but all around you. The sweet neighbour. The friendly teacher. The skilled doctor.” I search his gaze, feeling the sincerity, a sinister confidence in his words as he leans closer. “They just keep theirs buried, hidden behind smiles and power and that makes them far more dangerous than I could ever be, especially to people like you.”

My heart beats erratically as I absorb his words, the world I thought I knew shifting under me, but I don’t want to feel it and I try to push it at the back of my mind.

“Because someone like you… someone with light in them?” His voice softens, but a dark edge laces his words, cutting into me. “You’re the perfect prey for those who know exactly how to wrap that light tightly around their little finger until it’s squeezed the fuck out of you.”

His eyes narrow slightly, roaming over mine. “And after that?” He lifts his hand and snaps his fingers causing me to flinch slightly. “ Darkness.”

The word slips out like a warning, sending a shiver down my spine. “Darkness swallows everything in its path eventually, Kitten. And you’re going to learn that.”

“Ty…” I start, wanting to tell him I’ve been in the dark, that I can somewhat understand so I can help him if I can, but his finger lands on my lips. “Shhh,” he hushes. “Therapy session over. Go to fucking sleep.”

He shifts onto his back, turning away, as if he’s closed a door between us, dismissing me entirely. A heavy sigh slips from my lips, filling the silence that suddenly stretches between us, until, finally, I feel sleep tugging at me, my body surrendering as exhaustion seeps in.