His End

3

E

"Ellie, I'm serious. We're gonna be late."

I groan, turning over to bury my face in my pillow. I hear her laugh.

"Doesn't matter how comfortable that bed is, if we're late, Mom will kill us."

The sheets are so soft, five more minutes can't hurt.

"She's threatened death too many times. It's lost its impact." I mumble, reaching for the last few tendrils of sleep. I've almost caught them when my blanket is yanked away.

I shriek at the sudden cold, curling in on myself. And there's her laugh again, ridiculously loud for so early in the morning.

"I don't know about you, but I value my life too much to die at 19."

•••

I can't breathe.

The air is too cold, too thick, clogging up my throat.

My body jerks involuntarily, wrists burning against something thick. Rope. I'm tied up.

Suddenly, memories crash down on me, fragmented and murky, forcing me to piece them together.
There was the limo, and that psycho Cade. A guard had opened the door for me, and I'd tried to run, but-

I remember something being shoved over my mouth, rancid smelling. It must've knocked me out. They'd knocked me out, and shoved me in some fucking dark cellar.

"What gentlemen."

The joke sours in the air, as it occurs to me I might not be as alone as I thought. But the only thing I hear is the quick, panicked rhythm of my breathing.

The darkness allows me to do the one thing I'd been avoiding. Bitter tears begin to track down my face.

To start running from monsters at 17 is to sacrifice your entire identity in the hopes that no-one would use it to gain power over you.

I pull roughly against the rope that binds me to the wooden chair, unable to stop an agonised cry.

If I can't get out of here, then my sacrifice, her sacrifice, will have been for nothing.

"I trust you had a good rest." The voice comes from everywhere, and nowhere, all at once.

Cade.

I tilt my head, blinking back any tears. This particular monster will never see me cry. He's the type of guy to feed on any weakness.

The lights blink on, the brightness burning my eyes. I wince, squeezing them shut until I can adjust. A few moments, and my sight returns.

My heart stops beating.

Cade is there, as smug as ever, but he's not alone. Someone is leaning against the door, eyes closed.

Where Cade is relaxed and cocky, this man radiates a power that makes my stomach curl. Everything about him seems to be a dangerous weapon, from the blank expression on his chiselled tanned features, to the black shirt tight over his chest.

Like Cade, he is unarmed. Unlike Cade, he does not seem to be interested in me one bit. But there is something unnaturally still from the way he rests against the door, like one wrong move and I'd taste death.

I make sure not to take my eyes off of him, even when Cade steps forward with a smirk.

"You have a little something on your face, tesoro." He leans down, blonde hair tumbling over his shoulder.