PROLOGUE
CHLOE
[WELCOME TO THE PSYCHO STALKER’S BASEMENT]
Well, it was official.
My taste in men sucked ass.
I sent a glare to one of the handcuffs holding me prisoner; this one pinning my left wrist to the floor and forcing my arm out away from my side, and I blew at a bloody clump of hair that kept getting into my eyes. But movement like that caused pain to scream through my jaw because that’s where Dax had hit me to knock me unconscious and bring me here in the first place.
I closed my eyes and sniffed in self-pity while a tear trickled down my cheek and dripped into my ear.
At least, I think it was a tear. Could’ve been blood. That eye felt pretty fucked up, so who really knew what was dripping from it.
Whatever it was, now I had a wet ear on top of everything else.
Didn’t that just take the cake?
It beat focusing on the fact that I was chained, spread eagle and fully naked, to the freezing concrete basement floor of my psycho stalker ex-boyfriend’s house, though, while I listened for approaching footsteps overhead and wondered when he might return for more...cleansing...as he had called it.
I hadn’t even gotten any wetness in my ears when he’d turned the hose on me, although plenty had gone up my nose and into my mouth, which I had to admit, was way worse.
Ugh, okay. Fine...
The wet ear was nothing compared to everything else.
But everything else was too big to deal with right now.
Lucy and the baby seriously better be okay, or I was going to…
Damn. The panic returned from just thinking about them. A sob tore its way up my raw, dry throat, burning and clawing the whole way. I was going to start hyperventilating any moment if I didn’t get my shit together. And that was going to help absolutely nothing. The only things I could control right now were my emotions, and I couldn’t even seem to do that.
Come on, Chloe, I gave myself the mental pep talk I knew I needed. Get it together. You’re doing okay. You’re alive, not currently being tortured, and at least he hasn’t raped—
The floorboards above me creaked.
Oh God.
My entire body jolted in fear, knowing all the positive bullet points I’d just listed could be destroyed at any moment.
I swallowed harshly and held my breath, my muscles tensing as I peered up at the ceiling, praying that Dax wouldn’t return.
The top step creaked, and I whimpered.
Dammit, I’d told myself I wasn’t going to cry, no matter what happened. I wasn’t going to break.
But the footsteps started to move faster down the stairs as if he were jogging. Dread flooded my system so fast that I went into distress. My skin prickled with cold fear, and my heart beat hard enough to make my vision blur.
He called something through the door—my name, I think, as if he were looking for me, even though that made no sense; he was the monster who’d trapped me here in the first place—but I couldn’t be completely sure what he actually said over the terror pounding through my ears and fogging my brain.
Then, the knob twisted, and the door swung open.
1 CHLOE
[14 YEARS EARLIER]
“Honey, I really don’t think this is going to…fit.” Mom gritted out an annoyed growl as she tugged on the back of my dress, nearly strangling my boobs as she attempted to draw the zipper up.
Holding my breath so I wouldn’t inhale and cause my rib cage to expand another millimeter, I met her cringe of apology in the mirror I was facing in my bathroom, and I knew she was giving up.
With a whimper of protest, I moaned, “No! No, no, no... Please.”
But she was done.
Closing my eyes so I could no longer see the excess pudge bulging under my arms around the top of my strapless dress, I buried my face in my hands, mortified. “This can’t be happening. It fit perfectly last month when we bought it.”
“I know.” Mom touched my shoulder and squeezed warmly. “But you must’ve hit another growth spurt since then. You’re a blossoming girl, Chlo.”
Blossoming? Right. In my waistline maybe. I hadn’t grown in height since last year.
Gah, this was so freaking embarrassing.
“I can’t believe I gained that much in a single month.”
“It’s probably just water retention from hormones,” Mom tried, stroking my hair this time. “You’re having your period, right?”
Dropping my hands, I spun to frown at her. “You’re not making it better.”
She appeared helpless for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Hey, what about that ice-blue dress you have? You look super cute in that, and it’s stretchy enough to fit a changing body.”
The aghast look I sent her was born from pure horror. “I can’t wear something I wore in middle school.”
Was she kidding me? I’d be a laughing stock.
I was already the fourth-biggest girl in my ninth-grade class. I couldn’t be the most immaturely dressed too. I had to have something going for me. And the trendy, fashionable cut of this dress was supposed to be it. I was going to be the girl with style.
How was Caine Spinnaker going to notice me otherwise?
“Are you sure you can’t zip it up?” I asked Mom, turning up my begging eyes to maximum capacity.
She lifted her brow, not impressed by my lack of faith in her. But then my eye power must’ve kicked in because her shoulders collapsed, and she hissed out a deflated breath. “I mean, how much do you value breathing?”
“Tonight? Not at all. I need to get into this dress. Mom, please.”
Doubt filled her expression, but then she said, “Alright, fine. Turn around and suck it in, baby girl. This is going to get uncomfortable.”
“Screw comfort.” I gratefully showed her my back and grabbed onto the edge of the sink to brace myself while it felt like I was being squeezed through the eye of a needle.
My mother and I both let out a warrior cry as the zipper finally creaked into place, fully closed. “There.” The satisfaction in Mom’s voice mirrored the leap in my chest.
It was done.
I exhaled my relief and glanced up, only to cry, “What the hell?! I look like a freaking sausage.”
Mom scowled. “You do not.”
“Whatever! My boobs are a hot second from falling out of this thing.”
“Well…” Her gaze dropped to them, and she winced before glancing up. “Okay, yeah, they do look like they’re trying to escape.” Nodding in encouragement, she asked, “So are you still a no on the blue dress?”
Ugh. I was going to have to re-wear my old middle school clothes, wasn’t I? But when I opened my mouth to give in, the doorbell rang from the front of the house.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. It was too late to back out now. “They’re here.”
Mom and I gaped at each other in dread.
“Hey, the twins are…” Dad appeared in the open door of the bathroom, only for his words to stall short as he took me in from head to toe. His frozen expression slid toward Mom. “When did she get boobs?”
“Apparently this month,” Mom muttered, her voice rye with amusement.