Page 134 of Seeking Vengeance

He complies, rooting his feet in place and raising his chin while I stride toward my cell on the coffee table.

“Your breakfast is on the counter. You need to eat.”

I maneuver the suitcase around the sofa, bumping into the armrest, and release the handle to snatch for my phone.

One call and Cole will make this right. Him, Hunter, Decker and Luca. They’ll fix this mess with blood and broken bones… and hate me more while doing it.

I shove the device in my pocket, the knife still at the ready, and wheel my suitcase out from where I came to make for the entry hall.

“You can’t leave.” Matthew’s gaze haunts me from my periphery.

I keep walking, striding out the distance to freedom.

“Layla, stop.”

My body wants to obey. There’s no rhyme or reason, but every muscle tenses at his command, including my heart.

“Let me explain what’s going on.”

He continues toward me, the dwindling space between us causing me to panic. Not from fear of physical pain, but from that of pure emotional torture.

I can’t be near him. Can’t let him get within reach.

I run, my black Converse Chucks squeaking against the tiles, my suitcase wheels clicking.

He gives chase, his heavy footfalls thunderous behind me as I reach the door and drop the knife to wrench at the dead bolt.

The metal clatters at my feet while I snatch at the handle. Twist. Pull.

The crack of freedom brings hope, the euphoria snatched away when his heavy palm slaps against the wood, slamming the door closed, his body caging me from behind.

“Let me leave.” I cling to the handle, twisting and tugging.

“I’m not that person,” he growls near my ear. “I’m not one of them.”

The words whisper over my neck, poking infected wounds. Memories of him speaking against my neck in better times haunt me, crawling under my skin like torturous bugs.

“You’re a monster.” I pull and yank and thrash at the handle, willing it to open.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his splayed hand from against the wood.

“I’ll explain everything later,” he vows. “Once it’s just the two of us.”

“Later?” I swing around to face him only to jerk back at the stifling proximity.

He’s there. Right there. Dark eyes manic. Stubble harsh. Face severe.

“You want to talk to melater?” I seethe. “Because it’s easier for you to lie when we’re alone?”

“I haven’t lied.”

“Not once have you told the whole truth,” I shriek.

We stare each other down, my chest rising and falling from a body demanding punishment, his warm breath taunting my lips.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t free me from the cage of his arms. All he does is look at me as if he’ll tear the world to shreds if I escape. Like he’ll lose his mind if I walk from his life, never to return.

It hurts.

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