“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “My mouth hurts from where you hit me.”
He grasped my hand in his and pulled it away from my face. “I should have never hurt you. Let’s get you inside and clean you up.”
After a bone-chilling squeeze, he dropped my hand and then reached for his phone.
The very phone that was currently still connected to Bowen.
I watched in horror, unable to move or utter a single word, as his face darkened, realization dawning in his eyes.
“What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Movement so quick that I barely had time to register it blindsided me as his open hand connected with my face. I was able to scream one last word, the sound dying in my throat as Mark’s hand gripped my hair and slammed my face into the console, darkness exploding all around me.
Bowen
“Bowen!” Her scream filled the cab of my truck.
My name, drenched in fear, a desperate plea for me to help her, was the last sound I heard before the line went dead.
And just like the connection, I died inside.
My heart was still beating, my lungs still working, but my soul—the one that belonged to Remi Grey—was torn from my body.
How could this be happening again? After everything we’d been through, how were we back here? A visceral rage ripped from my throat.
“Bowen, relax. Think about it. It’s Mark,” Aaron said unconvincingly. “He wouldn’t hurt her.”
With a roar, fueled by more anguish and bone-crushing agony, I exploded. “He just fucking did!”
Remi
The sound of metal on metal felt like it was clamoring in my head, and as I worked to open my eyes, the horror of where I was came flying back like my brain had been hit by a brick wall.
My left eye refused to open, and with a groan, I reached up to feel my face.
“Wake the fuck up.” Mark’s foot connected with my ribs. As I cried out in pain, he laughed. “Oh, that didn’t hurt.”
I tipped my head back to look up at him and croaked, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me anymore.”
He dropped into a squat in front of me and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you promised it would just be the two of us. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?”
I turned my head, unable to bring myself to look at the face of a madman. But with the cool barrel of his gun under my chin, he brought my gaze back to his.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have answered the call.”
With a grunt, he pushed to his feet and began to pace. “Finally, something that isn’t a lie.”
With his back to me, I darted my gaze around the space. We were inside the cooler in the back of the kitchen. It wasn’t on, so the summer air was hot and stifling. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple, stinging the spot where his knuckles had split the skin.
There was nothing in the space except a set of heavy chains in the corner. Was this where he’d kept me? Chained up like an animal in a dark room?
My God, was I his only victim?
“Mark, have you brought other women here?”
He whirled toward me. “What?”
“The woman everyone said I heard crying. Was that here? Did you keep her here too?”
The laugh that erupted from his lips shot a chill down my spine. “That was always my favorite part of your story, you know? You insisted that there was another woman with you, but you were the only woman in here crying, Remi. In-fucking-cessantly. It’s why I kept you drugged. At least then you slept.”
“But I heard…” I trailed off, not sure what I’d heard. I couldn’t remember any part of being kidnapped. None of it was familiar. I could only go by what I’d been told.
“I find it interesting that you spent so much fucking time obsessing about this nonexistent woman, worried about her, convinced she was hurt somewhere, but you never, not one fucking time, noticed that I was hurting.”
I scoffed. “How were you hurting? What, because you thought you loved me and I didn’t love you back? That’s not love, Mark.” I pointed to my face. “None of this is love.”
He looked away, almost sheepish for a minute, but his pacing picked up speed, the words tumbling from his mouth faster and louder with each step. “Don’t fucking tell me about love. I’m miserable in every single aspect of my godforsaken life. I mean, shit. How much is one man supposed to take? Can’t get my second restaurant off the ground because I keep running into one issue after another in this fucking shithole. Every day, more money going out than coming in. Going home every night defeated, needing nothing more than some reassurance, only to be slapped in the face when you two were out without me. I was the third wheel in our ‘friendship,’ always a fucking afterthought.” He spun on a heel and pinned me with a glare. “Did you even fucking notice that I was an addict?”
