Chapter 31

Chapter 31

SHANNON.

My whole body felt like it'd been hit by a truck. I could barely move a muscle; not even my eyelids were willing to cooperate with me.

I slowly opened my eyes with a wince and a sharp gasp as I tried to move my legs.

A searing headache tore through the side of my skull. I hissed, clutching at the sheets as the pain rippled down my spine.

Jesus Christ.

I remembered the clock flashing past five before I passed out. Kenai had finally let me sleep, if you could even call that mercy. He’d fucked me in every position he wanted, taking me over and over until I couldn’t tell where pain ended and pleasure began. I cried. I begged. But my pleas only seemed to fuel him.

He came to take, and he took. Every bit of me. Every single drop of my resistance.

It wasn’t just sex; it was a judgment carried out. A punishment he thought I owed him, and one he intended to make sure I never forgot.

Kenai wasn’t just an unhinged psychopath. He was a feral beast, too. Ruthless. Cruel. Merciless. And only an absolute fool would ever let him touch them again after what he did last night.

My eyes caught sight of the clock, and I jerked off the bed instantly, ignoring the sharp pain between my legs.

A few minutes to noon.

Jesus.

I stumbled across the room, snatching my phone from where it lay face down on the dresser. The moment the screen lit up, my stomach dropped.

Twenty-five missed calls.

Eight messages.

Nineteen voicemails.

All from George.

Oh, God.

My hands shook as I quickly played some of the voicemails.

They were all about him being worried. There was that one he sent at about eight in the morning.

"Baby... I'm out. I'm finally out!"

My heart ached at how happy he sounded. And suddenly, all I did last night was finally worth it.

I clasped my palm around my mouth to stifle a sob.

I tried to return his calls three times, but he wasn't answering. But instead of letting panic set in, I quickly left the bed and hurried into the bathroom. I did my best not to stare at my naked self staring back at me from his walls.

Kenai was nowhere to be found, and I couldn't begin to say how thankful I was for that. I wish he'd just go to hell and leave me the hell alone.

My plans were simple, though. Now that George was finally out and I had officially lost my job, I would leave the city. I'll beg George to leave with me.

I was very certain that with all that had happened, he wouldn't even want to work for the company anymore.

I kept playing all his voicemails as I brushed my teeth, but I stopped abruptly when I heard one where he said, "I'm on my way home, Shan. I hope you're fine. I'm fucking worried."

No. No. No.

I checked the time he sent that voicemail, and it was a few minutes past ten.

If he was coming by bus, then he was still a lot of hours away.

But if he was coming by flight - which I highly doubted, at least, not after what had just happened - then he should already be at home.

I didn’t even bother rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth.

I burst out of the bathroom, nearly slipping on the rug as I scrambled for my clothes — whatever I could grab. I didn’t care if I looked insane. I didn’t brush my hair. I didn’t check the mirror.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get my pants up.

“Oh God… oh God…” I whispered as I snatched my phone and shoved it into my pocket, my breath catching on every word.

I bolted down the hallway, down the stairs, and toward the front door. The second I stepped outside, I froze.

A black SUV was already waiting for me.

The same driver from last night stood beside it with a stiff posture and a phone in hand. His eyes were lowered like he had been instructed not to look at me too long.

“Ma’am,” he said, opening the back door, “my boss instructed me to take you home.”

My heart lurched violently at the word 'home.'

“No,” I snapped, taking a step back. “I’ll find my own way. Move aside.”

“I can’t do that,” he said in a tone so calm that it sounded almost robotic. “The gate stays closed until you get in the vehicle.”

As if on cue, I turned to the gateman, and I saw the same older man who’d bowed to Kenai last night. I watched him stand frozen, refusing to touch the control panel.

They were all working under Kenai’s orders.

My stomach twisted.

“Ma’am,” the driver said again, and I swallowed hard as my lungs tightened. I had no time to argue. At least, not when George might already be home.

“Fine,” I muttered and climbed into the car, slamming the door shut. The lock clicked immediately.

The SUV rolled forward, and my panic spiked with every passing second. I checked my phone again and called George.

Call failed.

Again.

Call failed.

The third time, it didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my forehead. “Pick up. Please, George. Pick up.”

I stared out the window, watching the city blur past.

What do I tell him?

What lie could possibly explain where I’d been?

I slept at Valerie’s?

No. Too risky.

I fainted?

He’d ask questions.

I lost my phone?

He’d still want to know where I was.

My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. I rubbed my palms on my thighs, trying to stop the tremors.

On a second thought... What if Kenai had already gotten to George? What if he had hurt George?

My heart began an unhealthy marathon.

That was a painful possibility I didn't want to admit.

“Please be okay,” I whispered into my shaking hands. “Please, please be okay.”

I turned to the driver, "Please, drive faster!"

The driver didn’t answer. He only gripped the wheel tighter and fixed his eyes on the road while his phone vibrated again and again between his thigh and the cup holder. He answered every call the same way, with a quiet “Yes, sir,” followed by silent nods.

By the time the SUV finally slowed in front of my street, I practically clawed at the door, shoving it open the second the car fully stopped.

Fresh air hit my lungs like ice water.

I jumped out, barely finding my footing, and sprinted toward the house. My pulse was in my throat, my stomach knotting with a fear I didn’t know how to swallow.

Then I froze.

A car I didn’t recognize — sleek, expensive, and wildly out of place — was parked right in front of my door.

I took a step back, instinct screaming at me to turn and run, but I forced myself forward and reached for the knob.

It twisted open easily.

Jesus.

Someone was inside.

I tiptoed across the living room, unable to control how every breath I took shook in and out of my chest. The house smelled different... warm, savory… food?

I heard voices drifting from the dining area.

What the hell?

I crept closer, my heart slamming painfully against my ribs.

Then I saw George standing by the dining table.

He was smiling way too wide for someone who had just gone through hell and back.

He was laughing under his breath as he arranged plates on the dining table like this was one of the most normal afternoons of his life. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered. He looked lighter. Relaxed. Happy.

“Shan!” he exclaimed the second he saw me. Relief burst across his face as he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate hug. “Baby! God, you scared me... I’ve been calling and calling...”

His lips pressed quickly to my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

He was warm, alive, and safe.

For one breath, the world spun back into place.

Then I heard footsteps behind him... The kind that makes your spine lock before your mind even catches up.

George turned slightly, smiling. “Hey! She’s here!”

And then he walked out... Kenai.

Wearing an apron.

Holding a tray of food like this was his house.

Like, feeding my husband was something he did on weekends for fun.

My knees nearly buckled.

His eyes met mine over the rim of the tray, emitting that amused, knowing, and cruel glint. His lips curved into a slow smile.

“Welcome home,” he said softly. "Lunch is ready."