Page 8 of Pastel Kisses

The only exit.

A loud clack echoes from above—footsteps, deliberate and slow, like a goddamn fashion statement. The sharp staccato of heels against the floor makes my pulse stutter.

She wore heels to my kidnapping?

I hold my breath, every muscle in my body wound tight as I track the approaching footsteps. Each deliberate step echoes against the walls, amplifying the suffocating stillness of my prison. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out everything but the ominous rhythm of movement creeping closer.

Then—silence.

The footsteps stop just beyond the door, lingering as if savoring the moment. My lungs burn, but I refuse to exhale, waiting, bracing for what comes next. The faint jangle of keys follows, the metallic chime sending a fresh wave of dread down my spine. The weight of anticipation presses down, my heart hammering against my ribs as the lock clicks open.

A pause.

Then, with a slow, agonizing groan, the rusted hinges creak, peeling open the door like the entrance to a nightmare. The air shifts, a draft sweeping into the suffocating space, but it does nothing to chase away the thick, oppressive fear clawing at my insides.

Then she steps inside.

Sarah.

Her dark eyes gleam with twisted amusement as she balances a tray in her hands, her expression eerily casual, like we’re meeting up for brunch instead of… whatever the hell this is.

“Hi!” she chirps, too damn cheerful for someone who drugged and kidnapped me. “You’re finally awake! I was hoping you wouldn’t die. You were out for a few days—guess I might’ve overdone it.” She giggles, the sound high-pitched and grating. “I brought you a few things.”

She sets the tray down on the desk, neatly arranging the toilet paper, a change of clothes, and a sad-looking sandwich, like she’s expecting me to thank her.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance.

My throat burns with unfiltered rage as I force myself to my feet, wobbling slightly as the dizziness threatens to knock me back down. “Why are you doing this?” I demand, my voice hoarse but laced with venom.

Her expression morphs in an instant. One second, she’s all fake smiles and perky cheer; the next, her face twists into something ugly, her lips curling back as she screams, “SIT DOWN!”

The force of her voice ricochets through the room, rattling my already fragile state. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, my legs giving out as I drop back onto the bed.

Shit.

The room tilts violently, and I press my palms to the mattress, grounding myself against the overwhelming nausea.

Sarah straightens, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress as if she didn’t just lose her goddamn mind. She starts humming, circling the small space like she’s inspecting her handiwork. Then she stops beside me, her dark eyes narrowing, filled with something far worse than hatred—obsession.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she sneers, her voice dropping into something dangerously low. “You know why. Jaxton is mine. They’re all mine.” Her nostrils flare as she jabs a finger toward me. “We were supposed to get married.”

My blood turns to ice.

Married?

They never mentioned being engaged. But Sarah isn’t just delusional—she’s completely unhinged.

She inhales deeply through her nose, eyes slipping shut like she’s savoring the fantasy playing in her mind. Then, just as quickly, she snaps them open again, her eerie smile returning.

“So, now I’m going to keep you.” She says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Without you around, they’ll come back to me.”

A manic giggle spills from her lips, her hands clasping together in giddy excitement. “You should’ve seen Jaxton’s poor face—the agony in his eyes.” She sighs dreamily. “And guess who’s going to be there to pick up the pieces?”

Red-hot fury courses through my veins, cutting through the fear like a blade.

“You’ll never get away with this,” I growl, pushing to my feet despite the wobble. “They’ll never fall for your bullshit! They’ll never love you, never!”

The smirk never leaves her face as she watches me lunge forward, my chain snapping tight and halting my movement just inches from her. My foot dangles uselessly behind me, my arms stretched forward, fingers itching to claw at her smug, twisted expression.

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