Page 72 of Graves

I roll my lips together but choose not to respond. He definitely doesn’t need an ego boost, and I’m sure as hell not gonna give him one.

Grabbing the clothes, I quickly move to the bathroom. Zayden takes a step to follow after me until I level him with a look that has him raising his hands in innocence and taking astep back. It doesn’t take me long to brush my teeth, run a brush through my hair, and get dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Zayden is practically bouncing on his toes. He looks less like the thirty-two-year-old psycho stalker and more like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Are you gonna tell me why the hell you woke me up at the crack of dawn?” I question with a yawn.

“I told you. I have a surprise for you.”

With that, he strides out the door, and I follow after him. He hooks a left down the hallway and continues until he stops in front of the broom closet. Looking over his shoulder at me, he catches my furrowed brows before he winks and pops open a hidden compartment on the right side of the door. A biometric scanner whirs out, and Zayden presses his thumb against it before the wall of the closet clicks, swinging open to reveal a room.

What the fuck?

Zayden pushes it the rest of the way open, holding his hand out for me to take as he pulls me in. There are no lights in here, and I can’t really see anything as Zayden shuts the door behind us, plunging us into total darkness.

“You ready for your surprise?” he asks.

“Okay, out with it, you’re starting to creep me out.” I laugh lightly, though the sensible side of me is slightly unnerved.

“Close your eyes,” Zayden says.

I do as he says, and I can see the lights turn on from behind my eyelids. I smile in anticipation before he speaks.

“Alright, angel. Surprise!” he practically exclaims.

I open my eyes, my smile falling instantly as my eyes round in shock. There is a chair in the middle of the room and a large, tied-up man attached to it. His mouth is duct taped, his face bloody with a large red bow on top of his head, but I’d recognize those green eyes anywhere.

“What the fuck?” I whisper on a choppy breath.

“It’s your present!” Zayden smiles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he does. “It’s our seven-month anniversary, and I had no idea what to get you. It was kinda stressing me out, to be honest. But between the other night and yesterday, it just clicked for me.”

My breathing is shallow, my body chilled straight to the bone as I’m locked in eye contact with my abuser. My tormentor. The devil himself. My foster dad.

“Why would you bring him here? Why would you do this to me?” I ask, my voice breaking as my eyes begin to fill with unshed tears.

Zayden’s smile falls, and he cups my face, brushing away a stray tear.

“To kill him, angel. To take back everything he took from you. I thought after yesterday, you’d want that. Should I have just killed him in Chicago?” he asks softly, like he’s asking if he bought the wrong ice cream.

“You went and got him in Chicago? Last night?” I ask.

He nods, his eyes flicking quickly over my face.

“I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t need to know. What I do know is that he hurt you, and for that he deserves apainful death.”

Jim whimpers behind the duct tape, stealing my attention from Zayden. At first, I felt this paralyzing fear, a fear I knew I’d feel if I ever saw him again. But the more I look at him, the more I see how truly vulnerable he is. His feet are tied together, his arms fastened behind his back, and his putrid mouth sealed shut. He’s not in control, not even close, and that forces something to buzz inside me. Something strong and powerful. Something…different.

“What are you going to do to him?” I ask Zayden, keeping my eyes on Jim for several seconds before turning my focus back to the unhinged man in front of me.

“The question is, what are you going to do to him, angel? He’s your present, to do with what you will. I hand-selected some of my favorite toys over here,” he says, gesturing toward a small metal table filled with various weapons.

I take a few steps toward the table, running my fingers over them as I do. Needle-nose pliers, a meat tenderizer, a bone saw, a scalpel, some kind of metal hook, and more knives than you’d ever know what to do with.

“Of course, we have plenty of guns if you’d rather something less messy, or I can handle it all if you just want him gone. You say the word, and it’s done.”

I swallow before inhaling slowly. My morality should be at war right now, with my conscience telling me how horrific this is. I shouldn’t even be tempted. The fact of the matter is I’m not just tempted, I’m exhilarated.

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