She doesn’t answer. So I knock again.
“Lysa.”
Still nothing.
I grow impatient, I’m done with trying to be respectful, and it’s getting me nowhere. So I open the door and my eyes scan the empty space. A strong gust of wind blows the balcony curtain inside the room, and a chill creeps around the back of my neck when I realize the balcony door is wide open.
Charging forward, I look out. The sky lays over the woods like a heavy blanket, low dark clouds, full and rumbling through the teaming rain, and I just make out a shadow as it moves into the tree line.
She’s escaped...
Or, at least she’s trying to.
I turn and race down the stairs, sprinting out the door. I run around the house, and through the field where I last saw her. There’s no sign of her now, no way of tracking her in the soaked heavy grass. I figure that if she has any sense about her, she’ll be making for the main road. But the main road is a long way off, and running happens to be one of the few things I do with my spare time.
Add to that the fact I have shoes, and she doesn’t. I like my odds against hers.
I’ve hardly broken a sweat when I make it to the tree line. But the rain is drenching through my clothes and pelting against my eyes making it difficult to see ahead.
Stopping for a second, I wipe my hand across them so I can scope the thick woodland in front of me. It doesn't take me long to find her, bent over, hands resting on her knees while she catches her breath. She’s about ten yards ahead of me, and I allow myself enough time to take in one long breath before I set off toward her.
She looks up when she hears me coming, fear striking her pretty little face before she takes off again. Her bare feet stumble over the loose branches beneath them, and she only manages to make a few more paces before she trips and falls. Making the opportunity to catch up far too easy. I reach down and snatch her ankle, dragging her back through the mud toward me. Then I drop to my knees, and pin them either side of her lithe body, resting my ass on her thighs. She struggles when I grip her wrists in my hands and hold them over her head, sinking them into the sloppy earth beneath us. She wriggles, and she fights, but I’m too strong and too fucking angry to relinquish. So I hold her firm.
I glare down on her, fuming that she’d tried to run from me. I almost feel sorry for her that I’ve caught her, she’s so helpless beneath me, like a deer tangled in a snare I can practically see her heart pounding from her chest.
She’s completely at my mercy.
So, why do I suddenly feel so powerless?
Why does my chest feel heavy with pain and my body tired from weakness?
I fucking know why. I just don’t want to admit it.
I’ve let her get into my head, and in doing that I’ve let Sorrento fucking win.
I could just let her go, but she’d been right. I need her. I fucking need her the same way I need air in my lungs, and as much as I want to suffocate. My body demands that I let myself breathe.
The rain falls hard against the back of my head, running off my forehead and dripping on to her. It soaks through my t-shirt and drenches my skin and yet I don’t feel its chill. Lysetta stops struggling, her eyes immersed into mine, no doubt trying some fucking enchantment shit on me.
It won’t work. I can’t let it, not this time.
I want to hate her enough to finish her, to fuck her into the ground and then bury her along with everything else I’ve made the mistake of caring about.
But instead, I shift my weight from her, jump to my feet, and hold out my hand.
I wonder if she'll take it or if she’ll try to run again.
I hope she’s learnt the lesson that she could never run from me. She’s mine and should know better than to think I would ever let her go. I’ve been waiting for her to push me like this. To test me, and now I can prove it to her.
Lysetta reaches up and places her hand in mine and I try to pretend that the warm tingle it spreads through my arm isn’t there.
I pull her up from the ground. She’s soaked, covered head to foot in mud. Her feet bleeding from running barefoot over harsh terrain. I don’t give her a chance to argue when I bend forward and lift her onto my shoulder.
My shoes squelch in the mud as I carry her back through the woods and across the field. I hear her protests, demanding me to release her. I feel every thud her fists pounds against my back, and I ignore them all, keeping my hand wrapped firmly around her waist and moving forward.
It’s time to teach her a lesson that she won’t forget.
I don’t put her down when we reach the house. The bottom of my soaked jeans slosh across the immaculately clean hall floor as I head toward the one place I know she can’t escape from. I kick open the basement door before carrying her down the stairs.
