Or... maybe I didn't. Maybe karma was finally catching up with me, doling out punishment for all my crimes in the form of Chase motherfucking Lockhart. What had that crazy bitch Jeanette said? He was an FBI director now?
No. Wait, she elaborated while on the road. He wasn't actually a director. Not yet. How the fuck he'd even managed to cover his crazy long enough to get into the bureau in the first place... who fucking knew. Everything had a price, I supposed.
Dimly my body registered motion, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake myself out of the drugged haze. Not that it even mattered. Chase had won.
In a way, he'd done me a favor by keeping me so heavily sedated while he transported me god knows where. It gave me a place to hide, a reason to close my eyes to the atom bomb Zed had just dropped on our lives.
I was being weak, I knew that. But I was so utterly exhausted, sick to death of being strong all the time. I simply had nothing left. No motivation to fight. No will to continue. Not when my heart hurt so much.
More drugs burned through my veins, and I surrendered to the dark abyss. Nothingness was the best I could have hoped for. Much better than the hopelessness and heartbreak of my semi-conscious but paralyzed state.
Time lost all meaning as I drifted endlessly through the blackness of my own medicated sleep, but at some point, the motion stopped. At some point, the drugs began to fade from my system, and the gut-wrenching agony of awareness gripped me once more.
"Wakey, wakey Sleeping Beauty," Chase's leering voice sang, grating across my mind like a rusty razor blade.
As badly as I wanted to ignore him, I'd rather channel my anger than wallow in it. So I forced my lids to open and my eyes to focus on my psychotic ex-fiancé.
"Aw, there she is," he cooed, stroking the side of my face, "I was worried for a moment that I'd hit you a bit hard with the sedatives. You always had such a good tolerance for the hard shit, though. Didn't you, Darling?"
I drew a breath and tried to say his name, but no sound came out. His brows hitched slightly, and he shifted away to reach for something. That small movement gave me a quick glimpse of the room. Calling it a room was generous, though. More of a prison cell, complete with a steel-reinforced door and a metal toilet in the corner.
"Here, you must be thirsty," Chase murmured, pushing a thin ice cube between my lips with forceful fingers. I tasted copper and dirt on his skin and resisted the urge to dry-retch. He was right; my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. I needed that ice cube.
"Chase," I croaked when I felt more confident in my voice.
He smiled down at me like a loving partner. "Yes, my sweet?"
I needed to swallow a few more times before I could muster the energy to get the rest of my words out. Thankfully, he leaned in closer so I didn't need to do anything more than whisper.
"Go fuck yourself."
He jerked back and glared death at me, then like a light switch was flicked, he started laughing.
"Oh, Darling. Sweet, pretty Darling." He chuckled, tapping something on his knee. As far as I could tell, I was bound hand and foot to the small prison cot. I couldn't tilt my head far enough to see what he was holding. "You've gained so much spark since we last spent quality time together. I greatly look forward to snuffing it out."
If I had any saliva to spare, I'd have spat at him. But as it was, I could do nothing but sneer and offer a lame retort from my vulnerable position. "I'd like to see you try."
Chase clicked his tongue, then lifted his hand to show me the dagger he held. "Well, that's the whole reason why I brought you here, my sweet." He brought the tip of the knife to my throat, and for the briefest moment I really believed he would end it all. Right then and there. Drive that blade home through my carotid artery and finish our sick game of cat and mouse once and for all.
For a moment, I hoped he would.
But this was Chase, and nothing was ever so simple. He turned the knife over and carefully, methodically, sliced away my clothing. Piece by piece, he tossed scraps of torn fabric over his shoulder, grinning like a crocodile when he discovered my lack of underwear. Yet another knife in the back from Zed.
Had he known when he took my panties? Had he known I was about to be arrested? I was going to fucking kill him. If I got free... when I got free... he was fucking dead.
"As much as I'd like to think you dressed just for me," Chase murmured, his breathing heavy as his hands gripped my thighs, "you had no clue what was waiting for you, did you?"
I couldn't stop myself from jerking with shock as his fingers pushed inside me, rough and demanding. My stomach knotted, and an acidic wave of old fear washed through me. For a second, all I could feel was pure hopelessness like I was right back where I’d been as a teenager. Totally and completely at Chase Lockhart's mercy.
But that feeling only lasted a second before anger and outrage washed it away. I wasn't that girl anymore. I'd fought tooth and nail to put her so firmly in my past I'd be damned if I let Chase's assault erase all my hard work. I wasn't his Darling. I was Hades.
Forcing my lips to curl in a cold smile, I gave a hard laugh. "You're disgusting," I spat. "Some things never change."
Chase's jaw tightened, and he shoved his fingers deeper in retaliation. But when I gave no reaction this time, he pulled them out and slapped me hard across the face, hard enough to make my head spin and my ears ring, but I'd happily take a thousand slaps over the alternative.
"You think you're so tough now, huh?" he sneered, swiping his fingers across my lips and leaving the taste of myself behind. "You think you're so untouchable. Well, Darling, I have news for you." He leaned down close, his lips brushing the side of my face as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've broken you before; I'll do it again. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Instead of the maniacal laughter I might have expected to follow that statement, he gripped my face with his hand and crushed his lips to mine. The shock of it gave him the upper hand, but it barely took me a second to regain my wits and bite the hell out of his lip as he tried to kiss me deeper.
Blood filled my mouth, and I released his lip. But he didn't pull away completely, just gave a throaty chuckle and licked a long, bloody line up the side of my face.
"Oh yeah," he groaned. "This is better than I'd imagined."
His hands trailed down my body, groping every damn inch of me before he made a satisfied sound and stood up. "Don't worry, my sweet demon; I'll get you nice and warmed up before we start the real fun." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a preloaded syringe. Staring down at me with a deranged smile, he plucked the safety cap off the needle, then bent over my arm. I was bound so securely, at wrist and above my elbow, there was no chance of wriggling free as he found a vein and slid the needle home.
"Chase," I gasped, unable to help myself as fear washed through my whole damn body. "Please. Don't..."
It was pointless, though. He'd already pushed his thumb down on the syringe, and the fire of drugs burned up my arm. No sweet darkness of sleep claimed me this time. Nope, he removed the needle and smirked his victory as the familiar, dreaded high hit my brain.
"I'll be back to play soon," he assured me. "Let's leave that to sink in a bit first."