We barely leave the bedroom. We’re tangled together—his arms, his legs, his lips, and mine. It’s as though the outside world has ceased to exist, and it’s just the two of us in this cocoon we’ve created.
Dex kisses me like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s trying to erase every bruise Timmy left on my body and my soul.
He whispers words into my skin that sink deep into the cracks Timmy carved into me, filling them with something warm and real.
I don’t think I’ve fully processed that Timmy—and his father—are really gone.
There’s a strange hollowness where my anger, fear, and frustration used to sit. It’s like my mind hasn’t caught up to my reality yet. The monster who tormented me, broke me down piece by piece, is gone.
Sometimes I think about how his story ended, and it feels... unfinished. Like maybe it wasn’t supposed to end that way—so suddenly, so violently.
But then I remember what he did to me.
What he could have done if I’d stayed.
And I remind myself that closure doesn’t always come wrapped in a neat little bow.
CHAPTER 152
RUN, LITTLE RABBIT
DEX
By the next evening, I can feel the shift in the air between us. The tender quiet of the last few days has been healing, yes, but it’s not enough. Not for her, and sure as hell not for me. There’s a fire between us, something deeper, something primal, clawing to be unleashed.
I see it in Margaux’s eyes, even if she doesn’t yet. That unspoken need to feel alive again, to shed the shadows of fear and let herself be untamed. She’s still holding back, still chained by the echoes of everything he did to her.
I know what she needs, what we both need. Somethingraw.
Something that lets her feel the thrill of being hunted and the safety of being caught.
So I stand, leather gloves flexing over my hands, my voice cutting through the stillness like a blade: “Run,” I growl. “You have five minutes.”
Margaux’s eyes widen, her breath quickening. She’s frozen for a beat, trying to read me, Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, her pupils dilating as my words sink in. There’s no smile to soften the command, no hint of playfulness. She’s searchingfor the playful, reassuring glance that says this is just a game. But I give her nothing.
I stand tall, leather gloves flexing, my body taut with barely restrained energy.
The forest looms behind her, dark and alive. When realization sinks in, her lips part in surprise, and she bolts.
I watch her go, her red hair catching the moonlight, her form vanishing between the trees, the faint rustle of leaves marking her path. My chest tightens, my pulse pounding in anticipation, the primal hunter in me roaring to life. This isn’t just a game. It’s raw, unfiltered adrenaline. It’s about awakening something wild in her, something she doesn’t even realize she craves.
The predator in me stirs, growling for the chase. I take a long, slow breath and slip the mask over my face, the bottom half of a skull transforming me into something primal, something monstrous, not quite human. I pull on my gloves tighter, savoring the stretch of the leather over my hands. I glance at my watch, the seconds ticking by like a countdown to chaos as I give her the time she needs to think she has a chance.
She doesn’t.
This isn’t just about catching her—it’s about unleashing something raw, about pulling her from the shadows of fear and into the thrill of surrender.
When the timer beeps, I step into the woods. My boots crunch softly on the damp earth as I move between the towering trees. The forest is alive with sounds—the rustle of leaves, the whisper of wind through branches, the distant chirp of crickets, the creak of far-off trees—but I’m tuned to something more. I’m listening forher. The soft gasp of her breath, the erratic beat of her heart, the uneven rhythm of her steps as she weaves through the undergrowth, the occasional snap of a twig beneath her feet.
I move deliberately, each step calculated and silent. My boots barely disturb the forest floor as I close the distance. A faint gaspreaches my ears, and I adjust my course, veering to the left.She’s close.
A faint crack reaches my ears. A twig. My lips curve into a wicked smile beneath the mask. She’s trying to be quiet, but she doesn’t know how.Not like I do.
I shift my weight, moving swiftly toward the sound. My breath is steady, controlled, my movements precise. Another noise—a sharp intake of breath—carries on the wind.I’m getting closer.I adjust my pace, keeping her in my sights without revealing myself. Let her think she’s still hidden. Let the adrenaline surge through her veins.
I spot movement ahead—a flash of her pale skin in the moonlight, the sway of her gorgeous red hair as she glances over her shoulder. My pace quickens. The thrill of the chase tightens in my chest, my muscles coiled and ready to strike. She darts between trees, her breaths loud and ragged. Her panic is intoxicating.
I close the distance, and before she can react, I lunge forward, my hand shooting out and wrapping around her wrist.