Page 59 of When Sinners Fear

The doors are all locked. I’ve been to check them myself, but that doesn’t stop me from checking again. I hear a car pull up on the drive, but I stay hidden out of sight. His brother, the smaller one, doesn’t come up to the house, and I’m thankful.

Retreating to the kitchen, I try to settle at the breakfast nook, but it doesn’t make me feel calm like it has been. I’m watching the window, waiting for a shadow of Reed or one of the other men to come from the trees. Locks wouldn’t stop them if they wanted to get in here.

But Knox said it would be safe. He told me.

But what loyalty does he have to me? Isn’t that part of the confusion? Why I pushed him last night? We might have had sex, but that doesn’t mean anything. Not to a man like him.

The phone rings again, startling me once more, and I grasp my chest. Part of me wants to race towards his study and see if it's him, but I don’t. Not this time.

It stops ringing, and the silence descends, but there’s a ringing in my ears still and I can’t catch my breath. I’m gasping for air and throwing my arm out onto the surface of the kitchen as I stumble through. It’s like someone has their hand around my throat, squeezing the air, stopping me from breathing, choking me. I’m back in the cage, and Knox has his hand around my throat. He’s the one doing this – he’s the one suffocating me. Killing me.

My tears burn as I struggle, frozen in fear.

But somewhere in my mind, I listen to myself. Somewhere I can hear that this isn’t real. That I am safe. My hands check around my throat and find nothing, and as I pull them away, I cough and splutter as if releasing a physical chokehold. I fall forward to the floor and take shallow breaths until I can gain control of my breathing and pull air into my lungs.

As the adrenalin starts to fade from my blood system, the tiredness hits, and I lie down on the kitchen floor – just to catch my breath. Just for a minute.

There’s a click, or a catch noise, something in the back of my mind that makes me want to open my eyes. And then a slam that startles me.

I scamper backwards until I register where I am.

The kitchen. At Knox’s.

Not in a cage.

Not back there.

“Peyton?” he calls.

My heart picks up, and I stand before brushing my hair into place and grabbing a cup off the side to start making a drink. “In the kitchen.” My voice sounds weak and startled to my own ears.

He comes in, looking smart and every inch the professional businessman – a sexy businessman in that suit. It hugs his broad shoulders, but right now, he looks dangerous in the brittle state I’m in. Deadly.

He scowls at me, but I scowl back. “What?” I snap.

“You look… doesn’t matter.” He stops and then walks out of the kitchen.

“Knox?” I ask, following him to see where he’s going.

“I’m going to clean up.”

As I wait for him to say something else – anything else – my hand clings to the door frame for support, as if it’s propping me up both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just keeps his eyes fixed on mine, as if there are words he wants to say but won’t.

Watching him vanish upstairs, I sag into the wall. In my head, I play out the imaginary conversation we might have had. He’d be glad to be home, happy to see me. But what conversation comes after that? Where has he been? Doing what?

Was I meant to prepare dinner? It's early, but …

My mind rushes to imagine a life here with him, safe from the outside world but cut off from everything I know, my work and my family. It’s a jumble of feelings and sensations, none of which make any logical sense to me.

The sound of the shower, however distant from upstairs, is a comfort after such a fretful day. I’m not alone – Knox is here with me. I listen to his movements while sitting at the bottom of the stairs, until I hear the door to his room open. I stand, fleeing to the kitchen nook when I hear him come down.

The decision comes to me as I watch him from across the room, shirtless and seeming tired.

“I need to go visit my family.”

“I think you should go home.”

Our words run over each other.

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