Page 53 of Stalked By the Alphas
“I—I can’t. He will hurt me.”
I exchange another look with Noah. “He will hurt Hazel if he hasn’t already, Leah. He has her.”
“Try the Old School House in Westmoor,” she whispers so quietly that I barely hear her, and then she hangs up.
“Move out,” I say to Noah, who gives me a solid nod and hauls Zach to his feet. Westmoor is over an hour’s drive away. We don’t know how much of a head start this arsehole has. I couldn’t have been out for more than half an hour, but truth be told, I don’t know.
“We need supplies,” Noah says. “Is that stuff still downstairs?”
Grimly, I nod. Bystuff,he means the power tools.
Bundling a shattered Zach into the car he and Noah arrived in, I slide into the driver’s seat, grunting as the stab wound flares up in pain. But I push it aside. I inhale once and exhale slowly, burying every slice of emotion and feeling into a box to deal with after I’ve removed every inch of skin from this fucker’s body.
33
HAZEL
My head pounds,and my vision is non-existent. As consciousness slowly returns, panic sets in as I realise I can’t see, and I can’t move. My wrists and ankles are bound tightly, the rough rope digging into my skin. I struggle to sit up, but my head, elbows and knees bang against something hard.
I blink rapidly, but there is nothing but darkness. Breathing in and out, trying to calm my growing sense of panic, the knowledge that I am stuffed, bound in a cupboard descends on me with a chilling certainty. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps as claustrophobia claws at my throat.
“Help!” I try to scream, but it comes out as a muffled whimper.
Memories flood back in disjointed flashes. The noises. The masked magician. Carter bleeding on the ground. A sharp pain in my arm. Then darkness.
I strain my ears, listening for any sound beyond my cramped prison. Nothing. Just oppressive silence.
How long have I been here? Where am I? Is Carter okay? Questions race through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. I strain against my bonds, but they’re tied too tightly. Pain lances through my arm where the man cut me earlier.
Tears of frustration and terror well up in my eyes. This can’t be happening. It has to be another hallucination, a vivid nightmare. But the pain and the ropes feel all too real.
A door creaks open somewhere above me. Heavy footsteps descend what must be stairs. My heart pounds so hard I feel like it might burst from my chest.
“Are you awake, Hazel?”
The masked magician’s voice has taken on a softer edge and sounds more familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I wrack my brain, trying to think where I know it from, but I draw a blank in my panic.
“Hazel? Are you awake? I didn’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head.Don’t let him gaslight you. This isn’t your fault, Haze. Come on, girl. Think. Think!
I remain silent, hoping he’ll think I’m still unconscious. The footsteps draw closer, stopping right outside my prison.
“I know you’re awake, Hazel,” he says, his tone hardening. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
The door to my cramped space suddenly opens, letting in a dim light.
His rough hands grab me, dragging me out. I cry out as my injured arm scrapes against the floor.
“There you are,” he says, his masked face looming over me. “Did you miss me, baby girl?”
I stare up at him, trembling. Now that I can see him clearly, there’s something achingly familiar about his eyes, the shape of his jaw beneath the makeup.
“Who are you?” I whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
He tilts his head, studying me. “You really don’t remember, do you? I’m hurt, Hazel. After everything we meant to each other.”
My mind races, trying to place him. There’s something in his voice, his mannerisms...
