Chapter 26

Maisie.

I waited for her next move, sizing her up. Her eyes were round and full, judging me. She stood, matching my stance. Her expression softened.

This wasn’t about judging me, then. This was something else.

“Do it,” she whispered. My pulse skipped a beat. “Do it to me. I want to feel it too.”

I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Her dark brown eyes searched me, trying to decipher what I was hiding. But there were no secrets.

“You drowned her,” she said.

“I killed her.”

“I want to feel it too,” she whispered. “I want you to drown me.”

My throat was dry, and blood pounding in my ears. She had to be testing me.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“You want me to kill you,” I said.

“You wouldn’t kill me,” she said. “I know you wouldn’t. I just want to

feel it.”

That was why my father and brother had known to pick her. They must have sensed whatever this was circulating inside of her. That she was messed up too. This strange, obsessive need to feel, even if it meant fighting for your life. A recklessness that would drown us both.

“Give it up, Maisie,” I warned. “You’re in too deep.”

“I’m not.” She inched closer and I widened my stance, making sure she knew that I wasn’t going anywhere. “You said it yourself.”

And I knew exactly what she meant: When I want you dead, you’ll be dead. She was the living proof that I wanted her around.

“Run,” I said. Maisie blinked, unable to comprehend what I was telling her. “Run!” I yelled. Her eyes flashed with fear and her hands fell to her sides, wiping the sweat from her palms against her clothes.

And then she ran.

Adrenaline prickled across my skin, an electrical current running rampant through me with each stride. Every thought inside of me was at war. Wilder had warned me to run. But I wanted to stay. To show him that he was capable of more. To fight for him. To fight for us.

But I couldn’t let go of his warning.

I raced through the trees, relieved I was in gym shoes. I tripped over a root, my chin thudding against the ground. I pushed myself back up and kept going. If Wilder said to run, then I had to run. And he was following me. That he wanted to chase me.

I stumbled with the keys to the SUV. Dropped them. Scrambled to pick them up. Focused on the car. I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I was stupid to accept this car. They probably had it bugged with a tracking device. That was probably why Wilder had given me my car in the first play; he would know where I was at all times anyway. And that must have been how Sawyer knew I was connected to the stolen money.

And why was this the first time I cared about my actions? I had never cared about getting caught before. I was used to ignoring the consequences until they ran me over, flattening me. Because then, I could only go forward.

But I wanted Wilder to follow me, as much as he wanted to chase me. He wanted the hunt. I wanted him to catch me.

I drove fast, not knowing where I was going, letting my instincts lead me. I concentrated on the road. Black asphalt. White lines. Yellow lines.

Green signs. Pierce. Crown Creek. Pierce Mountain. Pierce Park Tunnel. Anything to get me to where I needed to go. I finally took a deep breath. My heart rate slowed. I was in a car. I was getting away. Running like Wilder told me too. But what did that mean for Wilder?

I looked in the rearview mirror: Wilder was following me, only a few car lengths behind. Even in the rearview mirror, his gray-blue eyes were haunting in the dusky light. Fear and lust destroyed me on the inside. What I was supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?

Where were we supposed to go?

I ended up in the woods near Pierce Park Tunnel, the only place that was empty and dangerous, like us. I slammed on the brakes, then headed for the tunnel. He parked near my car. The car door shut after him. I held my arms around myself, the skin at the back of my neck tingling.

Wilder had drowned a woman. He was obsessed with water, with what it did to people, with what it did to me. Throwing the wet cloth on my face. Watching me squirm as he poured water on me. Shoving my head in the trough.

And he had killed her. Like he could have killed me.

And I had asked him to do it to me again. Knowing full well what he was capable of. Knowing that he wouldn’t do it. Because I trusted him. Like a damn idiot.

What was wrong with me?

Why did I want to struggle like that?

That rush fueled me, just like it charged him. I had never felt connected to anyone like I did with him.

The tunnel was dark. Light perspiration laced my skin, wrapping me in my. It was late. I stepped along the railroad, then walked on the wooden slats until I was a quarter of a mile inside. I ducked into the first alcove, taking my corner. Soon, Wilder’s fingers fanned across the brick too, coming in behind me. He leaned against the wall. The dim light from the end of the tunnel illuminated him in dim strokes. Energy hummed between us.

This was my safe place. When the call to danger and everything bad inside of me surfaced, where I could be alone, where I could be myself. Wilder sat in the dark next to me. We couldn’t see each other, but it felt like I was more exposed than I had ever been.

“You always come here,” Wilder said. I blinked my eyes at the shadow of his form. I hadn’t come here in ages, since before we were married. Had he been watching me? “Why?”

“Maybe I’m haunting this place,” I said sarcastically. That’s what my mother used to tell me,  that I was like a ghost who couldn’t find peace. A lonely, guilty piece of trash who would only see glimmers of the sun. I peered down the tunnel at the opening, at the deep blue night. “Maybe I died here.”

Wilder sighed deeply. Heat flowered in my cheeks. What did that sigh mean?

“I’m asking you a question. Showing an interest in you. Like you asked from me,” he said. “Give me a straight answer.”