Page 93 of The Darkest Hour

Could I handle that?

Something else hit me too.

Something darker.

More unsettling.

It gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.

Because a part of me—no matter how much I hated to admit it—had grown accustomed to the push and pull between us. His attempts to dominate me, to break me, had ignited something within me—a fire I hadn’t known was there.

It was a dangerous game, one I never asked to play, but I had played it all the same and. . .I kind of liked it.

If I killed him, that would all disappear.

The adrenaline.

The challenge.

The twisted connection.

However, perverse it was, it would be gone, if I killed him.

Would I miss it?

The question chilled me to the bone, but I couldn’t dismiss it.

I didn’t want to admit that any part of me could desire his presence, could need it even. But the truth was. . .without him, I would be alone, truly alone, in a way that was more terrifying than anything he had done to me.

What did that say about me?

Had I already lost myself in his twisted game, already succumbed to the very thing I’d been fighting against?

Or was it just the natural human fear of isolation?

Of being completely and utterly alone in the world?

What should I do?

The Predator's Threat

Onyx

I stared at the knife in my hand. “No. We won’t kill him today.”

Sighing, I knelt down beside his unconscious form.

We’ll just put him in timeout.

My fingers trembled as I reached into his pocket, searching for the rope I knew he kept there.

Okay. Here it goes.

The coarse material brushed against my fingertips, and I pulled it out, my mind already racing with what I needed to do next.

Hurry up, before he wakes up and you regret not killing him.

I let go of the knife and it clattered to the ground beside me.