Page 55 of Blood Money

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CARMEN

Just like that, every ounce of anger and sadness is washed away with the thrilling thought of our game, but I can’t let him win that easily. “So what, going to try and shut me up by fucking me?” I ask, sitting up on the edge of the bed, then pushing my feet into the shoes.

He smiles down on me. “You want to get me worked up, then you’re going to let me work out my frustrations too. I’m going to show you just how pathetic I am, and once I catch you, I’m going to shove my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to even speak.”

My heartbeat picks up speed again, but it’s bumping to a different tune now. One of excitement and anticipation. I should tell him to fuck right off or make him open up more and help me figure out a plan, but my pussy—that traitorous bitch—wants him too badly.

As my knees squeeze together, my walls start to clench at the mere thought of him filling me up again, and the soreness reminds me of last night. How he fucked me and made me watch. It all plays in my mind on a loop, only making my want grow bigger. But suddenly, the looming fucking reality hits me again, and my aching pussy is pushed to the back burner.

Once the shoes are laced to my feet, I stand. “What if I don’t want to be caught this time?” I ask, and it’s genuine.

Here he is, ready to hand over his life and end it because he doesn’t see a way out of the problem he created. Staying here, letting him chase me, letting my feelings grow will only make this hurt worse. It would be best to end everything now—it really would—but I’m not sure I want to, despite the inevitable.

“Then tell me now,” he says, dropping his smirk. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll drive you back to Bexley Falls and try to forget you ever existed.” His eyes shine with hurt, and I haven’t even given him an answer.

“I want you more than you even want yourself, Cyrus,” I admit.

“Then run.” The dark edge to his voice is back.

I nod, willing myself to push down the tears as I make my feet walk out of the room. Stopping a few feet away, I give him one last look before turning back around and running.

I barrel out the front door and leap over the steps, not even letting my feet hit them because I’m scared it will slow me down. Instead of going right like I did before, I turn left. Dirt kicks up with every step I take, giving me away, but I don’t care. I want him to catch me now more than ever.

I realize that this whole thing—our little game—is probably the same thing to him as it is to me. A distraction from reality. When we’re together, a heavenly bubble surrounds us, blocking out every terrible thought or worry from the real world. It’s just me and him. Unaware. Uncaring. Happy.

I glance over my shoulder, but all I can see is a cloud of dirt drifting up in my wake. Without him in sight, I pick up my pace. My feet dig into the earth, my lungs start to scream, and my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. It fuels my excitement because I know when he actually catches me, it’ll be ten times better. The adrenaline will slowly die down and be replaced with pleasure.

I stare straight ahead, my mind made up to hit the thick of trees in front of me. I’ll be able to rest with cover as I gain some of my strength back that’s dwindling. I’m maybe fifteen feet away before I see a man emerge. A man that isn’t Cyrus.

I come to a halt, only thinking for maybe three seconds before turning around. Despite my legs begging me to stop and my lungs being on fire, I keep going. A dark aura surrounds him, but not one like Cyrus. There is no good. I can feel it.

“Cyrus!” I scream, but it comes out weak. “Cyrus!” I try again but get the same results.

My legs are beginning to give up, and all I can think is if this man gets me, it won’t be good. I’m hoping my adrenaline, now fueled by fear, will carry me the rest of the way, get me back to Cyrus, but I’m not so lucky.

Thick arms wrap around me. I swing my arms and kick my feet as hard as I can, hoping to connect enough to hurt whoever the fuck this is. “Shhh,” the man tries, and even though he tries to sound gentle, it makes my skin crawl.

“Let me go!” I shriek.

I kick my foot behind me one last time. I connect with his knee and hear a pop before he finally drops me. I don’t give myself time to even process what’s happening. It’s fight or flight right now, and my fighting isn’t up to par. As soon as his arms slide off me, he falls to the ground with a groan, and I bolt.

I only make it a few feet before his fat, clammy fingers are wrapped around my ankle. He tugs with all his might, and I faceplant into the dirt. I scream again and start kicking, doing anything and everything I can think of to get away.

Grabbing a handful of dirt, I turn as much as I can and throw it in his face. It gives me the distraction I need to finally kick free again and start to crawl away. As I look up, trying to pull myself to my feet, I finally see him. “Cyrus!”

His face matches mine. Wide eyes with his mouth agape as he runs toward me.

I manage to stand on wobbly knees with the intention of closing the gap between us quicker, but just as my hope blooms, it crashes down. Cyrus stops in his tracks as something presses against the back of my head.

“Don’t move if you want to live,” he growls.

I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again, trying to tell myself this is merely a dream, but the pressure on the back of my skull never goes away.

Cyrus’s face doesn’t hide the confliction he’s feeling. If he moves, I’m dead. There is no loophole or solution. Not right now anyway. “Don’t stop chasing me!” I yell, the only words of encouragement I can give him.

“I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you!” he screams back.

---