Page 54 of Cruel Deception
“She begged to be freed.”
He finally turned, slow and deliberate, walking to a small bar stool in the corner and pulling out his phone.
“Why would you lock someone in your house? If they offended you, take them to court like a normal person. Or I swear—I’ll tell the cops.”
He paused mid-dial.
Turned to me.
“Do it,” he said.
“What?”
“Call the cops. Tell them everything. What I did to you. About the woman in the walls. Go ahead.”
He tossed the phone onto my lap.
I stared at it like it was a loaded weapon. “You’re not afraid?”
He stepped closer. “Scared of you?” He smiled—cold and pitying. “I’ve buried worse things than you on a quiet day.”
He was serious. Deadly serious.
But I couldn’t do this anymore. I was a human being, not a pawn, not a doll, not a damn prisoner. I picked up the phone and dialed.
He just stood there, watching me like he was curious how far I’d go.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
My voice shook. “I’m at a hospital. I don’t know the name. My husband locked me up and starved me until I passed out. Please... please come get me. He won’t let me go.”
“Miss, can you give us your name?”
“Charlotte Grayson. My husband’s name is Cassian Moretti.”
“We will trace your call and dispatch units to your location. Stay calm and do not alert the individual in question.”
I hung up and looked at him, trembling. “There. Done. Now what? You going to starve me again? Tie me up? Let the spiders crawl over me while I scream?”
I braced myself, jaw locked.
Cassian moved.
Quick. Smooth. He crossed the room and grabbed my arm—not violently, but firm enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
He pulled me upright in one seamless motion and sat me against the bed’s headboard. The shift was so fast my mind lagged behind it.
“I told you,” he said, low, “once you make that call, you live with the consequences.”
“What more can you do to me?” I whispered. “You’ve already done your worst.”
He leaned in, hand sliding beneath my chin. He tilted my face up toward him. I hated how cold his skin was. How steady his breath remained while I unraveled.
“I have four hundred and nineteen ways to break you,” he said calmly. “To ruin you. To shatter you completely. And I haven’t even used the first.”
His words sank like oil through my ribs.
Then—he kissed my forehead.
