Page 263 of His To Erase
You’re not alone.
I stare at it so long they start to blur from tears. Something I haven’t let myself feel in days slips in.
Hope.
It’s just a single sentence scratched on shitty paper, but it hits harder than every slap, every threat, or every hour of silence in this place.
This means someone sees me. Or it could be a trap, or worse, a joke. Maybe it’s the final mindfuck from the man who makes me want to claw his eyes out.
Or it could be real.
I don’t know which option scares me more.
My first instinct is to tear it up. Burn it. Pretend I never saw it. Hope is a luxury I can’t afford right now, and I don’t like the way it flutters in my chest like it’s just been waiting for a reason to rise.
I glance at the camera, but it’s not blinking right now.Holy fuck.
My heart’s doing that staccato thing again as I walk to the corner of the room, crouching beside the desk. I pull a book to the side, and slide the note under the drawer. Just in case.
I don’t want to think about what would happen if Frank found it.
The door slamsopen so violently it cracks against the wall. I jolt upright, heart lurching, as adrenaline floods my veins so fast I see white.
Frank stands in the doorway—looking wild and unhinged. His hair’s a mess and his shirt’s only half-buttoned. But it’s his face that stops me cold. He looks… scared.
He storms toward me. “What did you do?”
I scoot back so fast, my spine hits the headboard.
“What—what are you talking about?—?”
But he’s not listening. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I’m scared.
“Don’t play stupid,” he spits.
My stomach drops because I have no clue what he’s talking about. Unless he watched the cameras and found my little note? I could’ve sworn they weren’t on. I run through every possible scenario that I think he might be talking about.
Fuck.
What did I do?
Frank grabs my arm—hard—rips me upright like I weigh nothing, and my towel slips to the floor and I’m suddenly naked in front of him.
He freezes for half a second and the look he gives me isn’t just lust, it’s hunger laced with loathing. Almost like he wants me and hates himself for it.
His hand slides to my throat and I freeze. Every muscle goes still because I don’t know why he’s here, unless it’s time for dinner?
“You think I don’t see it?” he growls. “The way you look at me. You think you’re untouchable.”
I try to move—just an inch, just enough to breathe—but he slams me back against the wall so hard my teeth rattle. And beneath the rage in his eyes, there’s something else. Something darker.
“You know what I should do?” he whispers.
His eyes drag down my body, slowly. He smiles. “I should let my men have you.”
The blood drains from my face.
He leans in close enough that his nose brushes mine, and my stomach twists. He can’t be serious. No. No. No.
