Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance

“Certain events have tendencies to repeat themselves.

However, the outcomes can be vastly different.

A nightmare that crushed your soul for eternity can become a reality again.

But it does not mean the monster chasing you in it has to win again.”

Esmeralda

Esmeralda

Agony.

This thought enters my mind as I open my eyes, blinking rapidly and wishing to rip away my head that throbs so hard that my every breath sends pain through my scalp.

Nausea sweeps over me, everything around me spinning for a moment, until I sit straight. I lift my hand to palm my head only to pause when I notice tight ropes wrapped around my wrists, keeping them stuck together.

“The princess is finally awake.” The disgusting voice speaks up, and all the events occurring earlier come crashing back at me.

Looking around, I shrink inwardly as my soul cries out in anguish because an illusion of my childhood home surrounds me.

Thousands of memories slam into me, evoking far greater pain than the physical one in my body right now. Before this man showed up in our life, I was a happy child who had a loving family and stable home filled with laughter and happiness.

He destroyed my perfect world.

We are in the living room right now, near the fireplace that crackles as he shifts the burning logs with a poker, sending unwelcome heat my way as I sit in close proximity to it on the floor.

My legs are stretched out in front of me, my feet bare since he removed my shoes. I see my aching, injured ankle turning red.

I must have sprained it, which means if I try to run, I’ll have to do it on one leg.

The hot air produces sweat on my skin, sticking my clothes to me and dampening my jeans.

“Do you like my creation?” he asks, leaning on the fireplace, bending slightly forward as he’s still focused on the orange-blue flames. “Took me years to replicate your childhood home. Marina had so many pictures, I tried to do it justice. She said it was always full of love.” His hold on the poker tightens while his lips wobble, and he inhales deeply. “Do you think she would have liked it?”

My God, the man is insane. He brought me here to murder me and wonders if some random woman would have liked this house?

I open my mouth to curse at him, but the words stick in my throat when several passages from all the books I’ve read on serial killers appear in my mind.

The longer you indulge him in his fantasies, the better chance of escape you have because it prolongs time, and Lucian will be searching for me.

He will move heaven and hell to find me. I’m not all alone like I was all those years ago.

That or I’ll find a way to flee from his clutches myself at the first opportunity I get.

I survived him once; I can survive him again.

Acting out now without studying my environment and any planning might jeopardize my position and anger him, which will result in him killing me quicker.

Under no circumstances can I allow him to snap.

“I don’t know Marina,” I tentatively say, wincing when I move my legs a little so I can watch his expression better and not miss his mood changes. “The house is beautiful though, so she would have probably found it amazing.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, yet I keep my voice even, making him believe I’m a willing participant in his idea. “It must have been hard to build it all.”

He puffs his chest while a smile shapes his mouth, sinister and cold in its nature. “Three years. Four if we count outside.” Then he glances my way briefly. “You forgot your sister so quickly?” He shakes his head in disapproval. “Marina loved you so much she cried every night that you weren’t with us.” He hits one of the logs. “More than me. She shouldn’t have loved you that much.” He finishes his tirade on a harsher note while I gape at him in shock, barely making any sense from what he says.

Marina.

Evangeline.

Why would he call her that? It’s not even her middle name.

A magazine spread from a while ago comes to my mind where it was mentioned that sometimes abusive men create an entirely new personality for their spouses in order to totally separate them from their old lives. So they will not have routes of escape from the abuse they inflict on them.

My heart pangs painfully, a horrible realization enveloping it when my sister’s absence becomes crystal-clear in my mind, but I refuse to believe in it, still harboring hope she abandoned me and happily lives somewhere far away from this psycho after figuring out his despicable deeds.

Licking my dry lips, I fire a question his way. “Where is Marina? Why isn’t she here admiring this house herself?” My voice trembles slightly, and I press my foot harder on the wood, stilling the cry of pain, but it grounds me in the present and doesn’t let emotions win.

No matter his reply, I can’t lose my composure.

He taps on the log one more time, puts the poker to the side, and steps back from it, collapsing onto the couch opposite me. He places a gun on the table between us, the tip pointed my way. “She’s here.” Relief washes over me, and I sag against the couch behind me. It’s short-lived though when he motions with his chin to the urn standing above the fireplace. “I couldn’t think of a better location for her ashes than her childhood home. Where her mother died. And you will. The Hugh girls will reunite again as if they never separated.”

Hurt pierces my heart. The loud humming in my ears starts while such profound grief overpowers me, demanding to swallow me whole, so I can curl in a ball and cry my heart out at the injustice of it all.

Esme, girl wake up. You’ll be late for your class.

Esme, let’s grab some ice cream.

Did you zone out again, Esme? Be careful or people will take advantage of that.

Flashback after flashback assault me, bringing up my sister’s laughing and happy face in my mind as she spent so much time showering her love on me.

Dead.

Killed by the same man who viciously murdered our mother.

My sister’s lover was a monster in disguise who ruined our family, and her only sin was loving him.

Tears form in my eyes while sobs threaten to slip past my lips, but I hold them back, blocking away the grief and hurt, storing it for later.

I will grieve, cry once all of this is over, with my husband’s arms wrapped tightly around me.

He snatches a serrated knife from his pocket, smeared in dried blood, and he presses it to his nose, grinning at the scent. “Nothing in this world compares to the smell and taste of fresh blood. The hot liquid coating my mouth while the victim chokes from all the blood pouring from her after I slice her throat.” His eyes roll back, and he inhales deeply again. “Ah, pure pleasure in its darkest form.”

Monstrous human being who should be locked behind bars for the insane shit he says and does, but for many years he’s roamed freely, murdering God knows how many women.

And I thought Lucian was bad?

He’s a saint compared to this disgusting psycho.

Alec is the true definition of a serial killer.

He zeros his gaze on my neck, licking his lips as he rubs the tip of the knife on his chin, and he probably imagines cutting my artery so he can indulge in his inclinations.

Despite the hate filling my every pore, wishing to grab the gun and shoot him straight in the head, I ask, needing to divert his attention from his cravings, “Why did you kill our mom?” After a beat I add, “Marina loved her.”

His eyes blaze in fury, and he digs his knife hard into his chin, bruising himself in the process, but he pays no attention to that. “She didn’t accept me in the family. She said bad stuff about me to Marina, which made her question our relationship. She wrote all her doubts in those fucking diaries of hers.” He cocks his head to the side, his reptile-like orbs drilling their stare at me. “I loved Marina so much, but she refused to see it. I even came back from Hawaii earlier to settle it all before proposing to her. I thought she would listen to me.”

I vaguely remember someone knocking on the door hours before the nightmare.

They argued in loud voices, and Mom shouted at him to get the hell out, but when I asked who it was, she told me no one.

It must have been Alec.

My heart bleeds at the thought of my poor mother who ended up on the receiving end of his madness.

He holds his knife tighter, digging it harder in his wound while distaste laces his voice. “She kicked me out. She left me no choice but to kill her. All I wanted was for her to welcome me into the family. Was it so hard?” He screams the last part, breathing heavily, while I plaster my back against the couch, watching emotions play on his face. “Acceptance. The only thing I desired, and it was always denied to me.” He palms his head, gripping his hair. “Daddy always said I was a mistake he wished he could undo. He repeated it so much I finally couldn’t hear it anymore.”

I blink at such an abrupt change of subject, although they are probably connected somehow.

Look for all the answers to the serial killer’s action in his or her childhood, right?

“I sent him flying over the railing.” His words make me sick, the desire to vomit so strong I don’t know how I hold it back, especially when he grins. “Finally, he stopped yapping his mouth. Killing him didn’t bring me pleasure, just shame and fear. And relief,” he whispers the last part, placing the knife on his lap and drumming his fingers on his knees as he glances to the side. “Because he no longer beat me with his belt over and over again, laughing while I pissed myself from pain.”

Dear God.

I feel sorry for the little boy he once was who suffered cruelty at the hands of his father, and it resulted in his broken psyche, but the man sitting in front of me deserves no mercy.

He continues to speak while in a trance, and although his words send shivers down my spine along with disgust, I withstand it, as every minute he wastes on all this gives me more time to survive.

Discretely, I check the knot on the rope; it’s super tight, but maybe I can try untying it. I quickly use my teeth to loosen one knot and then slam my hands on my legs when he swings his head back at me.

“After a year, I met Marina. Beautiful, young, free. And loving. She gave me so much love I didn’t know what to do with it. I was happy. Your mother ruined it.”

“She didn’t know you,” I say, working on the rope, and his brows furrows. “You didn’t give her any time to get used to you.”

“She called me a mistake! An infatuation that will pass.” Mom must have had a good gut feeling as she rarely ever objected to anything in our lives, yet she stood her ground when it came to Evangeline’s boyfriend. “All I heard was his voice in my head again that wouldn’t shut up. The only way to shut it up was to kill you both.”

What kind of warped logic is this?

“You were supposed to be in the bed, a quick shot in the head, and then I’d stab her. Without you, Marina would have had no reason to say no to my proposal or break up with me. You stood in my way!” He gets up, pacing the room back and forth, as he hurriedly explains his actions to me—that don’t really matter.

The monster killed my mother and sister and now plans to off me.

Do I really care about his reasons?

“She woke up too early and told you to run. You escaped me, and I transferred all my rage on your mother. All I could think about was that if my plan failed me, I’d be all alone again. I couldn’t allow it.” He grins, sighing. “However, the more I stabbed her, the more I enjoyed it. That death opened up something inside me, something dark that needed to be sustained. So I had to kill you to get rid of the urge.”

The logs crackle and pop, the heat becoming almost unbearable, and I shift to the side, trying to get as far away as possible while stilling a groan, because moving my ankle just plain hurts.

“Is this why you killed Marina? Because you couldn’t murder me?” I whisper the question, still confused why he killed her, if he got what he wanted.

Evangeline all to himself.

For the first time, I’m grateful my grandmother took me away and locked me in her castle.

He picks up the urn with her ashes, cradling it in his arms as he sways from side to side. “No, I loved her. My sunshine. My miracle.” He kisses the urn and rests his cheek on it. “She discovered my secret and wanted to run away. I couldn’t allow it.”

I freeze, prompting, “Your secret?”

“All my other victims.” My stomach flips, and I pull at the ropes harder, yet it has no effect on them. Although I should have expected that, right? A monster who tasted blood once would crave it again. “Something changed after that night… irrevocably. I wanted to see this fear in a victim’s eyes again, the screams, the blood. The idea tempted me too much to resist it, so I went to poor neighborhoods and found women there. After a while, it became an addition, an aphrodisiac I needed to survive.”

Fear washes over me, enveloping me whole, while panic grows inside just listening to him speak so fondly of such hideous crimes. I frantically search for a solution, but under his strict supervision, I have no room to move.

A phone.

Shouldn’t there be a phone somewhere I could use to call the police?

Desperately wracking my mind to remember where the damned phone was in our house, I continue the conversation. “You let me live. Why?” If he indulged in all these… habits, shouldn’t he have killed me a long time ago?

“She gave you to Suzanne. You were no longer a problem,” he explains, putting the urn back in its place and crossing his arms. “Until my killings took her away from me. These hands—” He raises his splayed palms. “—choked her to death.” I wish to cover my ears so the pain of hearing how my sister died doesn’t pierce my heart, but I have no such luxury right now. “I no longer considered it a blessing. It was a curse.” He settles his gaze on me, his crazy orbs roaming over my form. “A curse only you can break. It should have ended with you.”

At this point, I don’t even bother to search for the logic in his explanations.

He takes a step toward me, and I tense, not wanting to show him weakness, but at the same time not wanting to antagonize him more either. “I gave you plenty of time to thrive as a tribute to my love, who cherished you so much. You can’t live longer than my Marina though. Twenty-one, it was always the number of your death.” He pushes the knife up, ready to stab me with it, and my shout reverberates through the walls.

“No!” He pauses, blinking in confusion, probably only half comprehending what’s wrong with me, and I use it to my advantage.

If he calls me his curse, then I need to add a little freaking magic to make the ritual more interesting to him and convince this lunatic how to better close the imaginary loophole he used to justify all his crimes.

“Don’t resist it, Esmeralda.”

“You want the cravings to stop, right? So you won’t hurt anyone else like you hurt Marina?” He frowns but still nods, holding the knife above me. “You need to kill me in order to achieve it. I’m the only victim who escaped you.” He clearly doesn’t understand what I’m getting at but listens nevertheless. “You have to do it as you planned all those years ago. Shoot me in my old room.” My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I’m so nervous and scared it’s a wonder my teeth don’t chatter. “Where I’m helpless without any ties. Rituals can be complete only if everything is exactly like it was.”

He rubs his chin, rocking back on his heels and studying me carefully.

I really pray that destiny is on my side right now, and his psyche will believe this bullshit, which will give me room for escape.

All I need is for him to untie the stupid knots.

“You’re right.” He pats me on the cheek as revulsion washes over me. I want to spit in his face and stab the stupid knife into him, but outwardly I stay calm. “We have to go upstairs.” He forcefully pushes me up, and I groan when I step on my injured foot. “Quicker.” He drags me after him, my insides screaming at me to stop so this pain traveling through my leg will end.

I follow him to the second story where he pushes me inside the room, and I fall on the floor, hitting my chin once again.

Then he flips his knife through his fingers as he walks closer and halts his movements. “I forgot my gun.” He shakes his head. “Stabbing you would do too. I’m tired of all these horrible cravings poisoning my mind.”

He kneels above me, grabs my hands, and then cuts the ropes with the knife.

He wraps his hand around the handle, raises it up ready to deliver his fatal blow, when I finally make a move.

I pray Lucian will get here faster, because this time around, I won’t have a second chance.

If my plan fails, I’ll die.

Lucian

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I press on the gas pedal, flying along the highway and navigating between the cars, ignoring various honks for cutting them off.

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long I’ve been on the road, conquering the distance in record time to get to Esmeralda before the fucker does damage to her.

She will be fine though; thinking anything else is not an option. Besides, my wife saved herself at the age of ten. She’s a fighter. She’ll find a way to escape.

Although the idea that she, my woman, mine, has to face it all alone without me again sends me into a deep rage where the beast wants to claw someone.

Preferably until that person bleeds.

I see the opening toward the woods. The trees are stuck together in the distance, while the empty space greets me, inviting me to discover what hides inside the forest.

Taking a hard turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt, I steer onto the narrow road leading into the woods where that fucking house should be located.

All this only proves how Alec lost his head a long time ago and now operates on his hunting instincts alone.

He didn’t cover his crimes or work on any kind of alibi. The fucker either plans to die or really has gone so insane he thinks no one would search for my wife, letting him get away with it like all those years ago.

A serial killer who no longer sees the difference between reality and illusion is very dangerous, because he has no brakes to stop him.

And where there are no brakes or logic—

A strong hit sends me flying forward, and I look at the rearview mirror, spotting a black car tailing me, purposely driving into my trunk once again.

What in the fuck?

Did Alec think a few steps ahead, an uncharacteristic behavior for his hard case, hiring someone to protect the land in case I show up?

Scratch that.

He knew I’d show up, so he thought in advance?

Except that’s impossible.

The narrow road doesn’t leave much room to wiggle, but I quickly swing to the side as he tries again to slam into me, and I watch him in the mirror. A growl slips past me when I finally identify the driver.

Andreas.

He’s a dead man walking now.

The fucker got so angry he decided to stand in my way.

The structure building in my head for days, matching all the facts together, shapes into a hideous realization that sends rage, betrayal, and even deep-down pain through me because the uncovered truth is a hard pill to swallow.

I shift to the side, avoiding his hit, pressing on the gas pedal.

The new James who tried to establish his empire and do despicable things to kids is Andreas.

His money, confidence, old friendship with Alec where he probably played on his psychotic state to use to his advantage, his sudden appearance in my life to offering to work together so he could use my connections once again.

A boy who lived with me in a nightmare from which most children do not get out of and experienced firsthand what it is like to be at the mercy of cruel and greedy people decided to subject other kids to such hell.

How in the fuck?

I knew he was a fuckup, had no morals, respect, and even his behavior toward women.

But I thought he’d never fucking ever go as far as participate in the crimes that cost us our souls.

How did that hell produce such two different outcomes?

I hate these demons and crave to kill them all so no one experiences this shit, and he wants to be one of them, enjoying the tortures?

A bullet ricochets off the car, and then I feel the tire dip, my car moving to the side, so I grip the steering wheel, trying to control the situation, while he fires more bullets my way.

Does he plan to blow up my car? We’d both be dead in that case.

Is he fucking insane?

Although, that’s a rhetorical question now. Ironically, Andreas isn’t that smart since he let his emotions rule him as well, judging by his actions.

The opening toward the deeper woods comes into view. I cannot allow myself to drive there though because if the car blows up inside the woods, the consequences might be catastrophic.

My hesitation costs me when he slams into my trunk again, sending me flying to the side, and since two tires are flat, the vehicle swerves uncontrollably, heading straight toward the huge stone sign stating this is private property.

I open the car door, ready to jump, but don’t allow enough time, and before I know it, the bumper meets the stone and my head bangs on the steering wheel, sending pain through my scalp.

Dizziness overtakes me, my ears become deaf for a second, and I feel warm blood sliding down my forehead. I barely manage to unfasten my seatbelt that saved me from a bigger impact, yet my body hurts everywhere.

Slowly lifting my head, I blink several times to clear my vision that’s so blurry, but I know I have to get the fuck out, because who knows what will happen if the gasoline is leaking.

“Esmeralda,” I whisper, pressing on the handle as the door opens, slipping a gust of wind inside that only adds to my misery.

I roll out, falling on my knees and hands, when I hear heavy footsteps crunching the ground underneath them.

Andreas speaks up. “I always knew that bravery would be your undoing.” He tsks. “Heroes always die a heroic death, just becoming a fleeting memory in time. Now, the villains live far longer. And get all the glory.”

I raise my eyes to see him standing several feet away, holding a gun pointed at me.

Mine stayed in the fucking car.

Gathering all my strength in my fist, I get up, leaning on the vehicle, but since the fuel drips on the asphalt, I have zero time for Andreas’s speeches.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I reply, even though every move of my jaw shoots pain through my head. “You aren’t a villain. Coward at most… a rat at worst. Although rats are smart, which cannot be said about you.”

His eyes flash in anger, and he steps closer, flicking the safety off while I stay glued to my spot, waiting for him.

A true hunter doesn’t make idiotic moves, something Andreas has no idea about.

“Well, if I wasn’t smart, you’d remember what happened all those years ago in James’s dungeon.” I freeze, focusing my stare on him, and he smirks. “You came rushing at me, wanting to save the day just as James promised to make me his heir apparent.” God, I should have seen his madness sooner. It explains why he was so calm during the last two years in captivity. “And you barged in trying to kill him, managing to shoot him in the leg, can you believe? I had to hit you hard in the head until you lost consciousness.” That’s why his face was the first one I saw in the hospital. The coward made sure his tracks were covered. “Still I loved you. You are my brother,” he says, slapping his chest. “James planned to leave without me, so I didn’t care if he got killed.” He scrunches his nose. “Liars don’t deserve mercy.” I take a step to the right, farther from the car while he takes another step closer to me, following me into my trap.

While I wish to kill him slowly for years, torturing him in my dungeon, so he’ll fucking regret ever thinking about rebuilding the despicable legacy, my woman needs me now.

He has to be killed as soon as possible, because right now, he is an annoyance standing in my way.

Andreas isn’t a hunter by nature, so he doesn’t have self-preservation instincts. The only reason he even decided to face me now is because he thinks he’s got me in a weakened state and not clear minded.

“After everything that was done to us by Francis, all the rape and torture. You recruited him to train other kids like that?” I spit on the ground. “You’re worse than a coward, Andreas.”

He snarls, “I have a vision!” His high-pitched scream annoys my ears. “Look at us! We are strong, successful, the world lies at our feet.” What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? “James’s hell was perfect. Don’t you understand? It allowed for natural selection. The weaker ones died, and the strongest ones survived.”

Now this goes beyond crazy.

Andreas comes closer, almost close enough, although still firmly holding the gun and pointing it at my head. “Me and you have strong genes. Imagine if we combine them?” He sighs. “Your line produces strong heirs. If you’d just listened to me and valued our friendship, we’d see our genes prosper.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Andreas.”

Unfortunately, the boy with whom I shared a cage became a rare statistic where all the shit done to him inspired him to inflict similar hurt to others instead of rising above it or protecting the injured party.

“You got blinded by that love. She took you away from me,” he hisses, anger settling on his face as he kicks the ground. “If it wasn’t for her, you would have accepted my proposition.”

Distorted reality.

He can’t possibly fathom that among the two of us, he was the one who grew up into a truly hideous creature, and the shame that lived inside that small boy still exists within him, searching for someone to blame it on, so he won’t have to face his disastrous actions.

And Esmeralda is the perfect target for it.

The human psyche is very smart; it protects us from a lot of pain, justifying in our heads all the shit we do.

“Never. I never would have accepted it,” I grit through my teeth, patiently waiting for him to move forward, reaching my side faster. “Compared to you, I didn’t grow up into a sorry excuse of a man.” A beat, and I press on his weak spot. “What is it, Andreas? Still sad Mommy didn’t love you enough to keep you?”

“Shut up!” he screams, taking two more steps forward, almost there.

“Maybe you don’t have such great genes after all. She’d have kept you otherwise.”

The last sentence breaks the camel’s back, and he throws himself at me with a loud roar. “I said shut up!”

I meet him head-on, gripping the gun in his hand, but surprisingly he has a strong hold on it.

We fight for it as we tumble to the ground, the sand flying up around us and getting in our noses, eyes, and mouths. Our free hands throw blows, all while the tug-of-war between us continues.

And the gas continues to drip on the ground.

I grip the gun harder, pressing it away from any important organs and hit Andreas which results in him pulling the trigger.

The air hitches in my throat when the bullet pierces into me, agonizing burning sensations swirling fire inside me.

We freeze. Andreas’s eyes widen, but then a sadistic smile curves his mouth. “Bravery never pays off.” He pulls the trigger again, and stilling my groan, I clench my fist, slamming it right into his nose that cracks under my assault.

His head goes backward, and I use this opportunity to deliver several more blows to him until my knuckles smear in his blood, and he barely breathes.

Pain assaults me from every corner. Breathing in this moment is an impossible chore, but I block it all away and focus only on the adrenaline running high in my veins, which will temporarily give me strength to save my princess.

Standing up on wobbly legs, I grab the gun and then race off into the woods, but not before turning around and firing bullets at the car several times until finally it blows up, the orange-blue smoke blazing wildly, consuming Andreas and his madness.

For only the devil himself would survive it.

The blood pours from my wounds. My head still spins after the blow, but I think only about my destination.

Increasing my pace, I pay no attention to anything, but my woman who calls my name in my mind, needing my help, because so much time has been wasted already.

I stumble a little, falling on my knees again, breathing heavily as my insides scream to just lie down and face the inevitable.

Clawing the ground, I jump up again using all the experience that came before this to withstand this agony and keep moving to save Esmeralda.

And as I rush with all my might to her, I say the mantra to myself that I haven’t uttered in more than twenty years.

Survive, Lucian.

Survive until you can beat them.

Esmeralda

I knee him hard between his legs, and he cries out in the pain, swinging to the side, his knife falling on the floor while I scoot out from under him, crawling toward the door and then jumping up.

My feet slap against the wood, pain crushing me in torturous waves, my limb refusing to listen to me, but I race to the stairs, getting several steps down before Alec fists my hair, dragging me back, and my scream bounces off the walls. “Ungrateful, girl!” he shouts, trying to pull me back upstairs, but I hold on to the railing and duck when he tries to slice my throat, the tip nicking me on the shoulder instead. “After all the love I’ve shown you!”

I’d laugh if the situation wasn’t so tragic and dangerous.

He killed my entire family and created this psycho house to end me; his idea of love should be forbidden.

“Go to hell!” I hiss, still moving toward my destination despite his strong grip that almost rips my hair out.

Since he stayed on the first step, he shakes a little, losing his balance and stumbling forward, knocking me several steps, which only adds to the agony my ankle experiences.

He loosens his hold on my hair, and I use this to sprint the remaining steps, as he regroups and pushes his knife my way. This time, he nicks my arm, but I veer to the side, avoiding the full stab.

My whole attention is on the door ahead of me. I race toward it, but my feet slip on the floor, and I fall on my ass, which gives him enough time to wrap his hand around my hair again. “Every Hugh girl is ungrateful. I ought to kill that grandmother of yours as well for all the disrespect she has shown me in the past.” He pulls me on my knees and drags me to the fireplace, flipping his knife between his fingers. “You’re a witch who cursed me, and all witches need to burn. This is how you will die.”

I struggle in his hold, trying to get free, but nothing works.

We near the fireplace, and he tilts my head back, making me whimper from the action. He puts the tip of the knife on my cheek. “You deserve a long and agonizing death for all the shit you put me through.” He slides it to my jaw, not pressing hard enough to draw blood though. “A sliced throat is an honor you will not get.”

Disgusting psycho.

I hope he burns in hell.

“Lucian will come after me. If I die, you’ll die too.” I laugh in his face when he shakes me, tugging on my strands harder. “An agonizing death at that.”

“Shut up! He’s my friend.” Yeah, right. He’d never be friends with someone like him.

I finally understand that my villain could never even compare to the true monsters existing on this earth, and if he kills men like this?

Good riddance I say.

He throws his knife away and grabs the poker, flicking the fireplace screen open. Instantly heat fans my face. Does he plan to stick my head inside and watch me burn while he slices my arteries open and drinks my blood?

Never!

He takes a step, the underside of his knee appearing right in front of me, and without thinking, I punch him there hard.

He screams, his leg wobbling, leans on the fireplace surround, and to keep his balance he smacks both of his hands on it, which gives me freedom.

Although this time my destination is different. I crawl with all my might to the table, while he shouts, “You stupid bitch!” Lifting the poker up, he’s ready to deliver his hit.

That’s when I grab the gun and fall on my back, firing several bullets at his chest, and he freezes, shock filling his orbs. The poker falls on the floor with a loud clatter.

While he glances down at the blood pouring from him, he makes a move in my direction, so I fire again.

One. Two. Three times until he takes a step back, swaying a little, choking on his blood, and I fire again for good measure. He finally collapses on his face just inches away from me, the red liquid rapidly circling his body.

I catch my breath while only one thought remains in my head.

I killed him.

I killed the monster chasing me in my nightmares.

Over.

It’s over.

I no longer have to run; the monster died.

Rolling to the side, I still carry the gun with me as I grip the table while getting up, my agonized scream echoing through the space because the pain in my ankle from all the tumbling burns so much I wonder if I’ve broken it.

Still, I limp to the door, needing to the get the hell away from here, and finally wrap my hand around the knob, opening it wide and breathing in the fresh air.

I step on the rough ground, welcoming the sunshine steaming brightly at me as if announcing the end to all the suffering, and that’s when I see him.

My husband.

Running so fast he’s almost a blur, but the closer he gets to me, the more blood I notice on him.

His white shirt is soaked in it, and he has a nasty graze on his head. My God, how does he move with all these wounds?

Ignoring my own pain, I race to him, finally throwing the gun away because my husband is here.

He will protect me from anyone and anything else.

One.

Two.

Three seconds and his strong arms wrap around me, hugging me tight as I circle his neck, sobbing into his shoulder, finally allowing the grief and pain to get to me, my heart shattering into tiny little pieces at all the truths discovered today.

Because my villain is here.

And his embrace and love will heal all my wounds.