𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏

Cara Hendersons pov

It was a relentless cycle—one of them would come in, feed me, yell at me as if I was somehow to blame for all of this, then leave. The one with the curly hair had a temper that could light a match, but for some reason, that fire no longer stung as it once did. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to grow on me.

But I doubted it, knowing better than to entertain such thoughts.

“Can...I ask for—”

“No.”

“But I just wanted to know your name—”

“Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Why not? I’ll be here for a while... I want to know who you are.” My words flowed out confidently, but as his icy glare pinned me in place, that confidence drained in an instant. He could build me up with a glance and tear me down just as easily. I had never changed in front of anyone but myself, yet here I was, awkwardly undressing in his presence. It was uncomfortable, yet I didn’t stop—I couldn’t explain why.

“Fine. My name is John, and my brother’s name is Travis... but I’m sure you already knew that.”

His reluctant admission surprised me, and confusion clouded my thoughts until realization hit me: he knew who I was.

“We didn’t exchange names, and I had no idea you guys were brothers.”

A hint of something sharp lingered in his tone—was that jealousy?

“We just… danced and talked—”

“I don’t need to know your life story, Cara. Fuck.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, but then he caught me staring. His movements halted, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks.

“I remember it… it felt electric,” I said, my voice trailing off as I remembered that night vividly. “I was dancing and loved the feeling of being in the middle of everything… everyone.” My eyes fluttered shut, recalling how intoxicating it was to be the center of attention, knowing I was being watched, imagined.

As I basked in the memory, I heard footsteps approaching and stopped abruptly, my breath catching. I kept my eyes closed, sensing the proximity of his presence. Heat emanated from his body, an inviting warmth that I had grown to crave even as I resented it.

“Cara…” His voice was slower now, deeper, almost velvety. This couldn’t be the same angry John I had met before.

I opened my eyes to find him in front of me, his intense gaze piercing through me, a torrent of unspoken thoughts swirling beneath the surface.

“John…” His name rolled off my tongue with an ease that frustrated me. I didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to see his stupid yet infuriatingly handsome face. Screw him, and screw his brother too...

But just as quickly, he snapped out of whatever trance he had fallen into, stepping back and shaking his head.

“Fuck... I’ve gotta go. I’ll be back.”

With that, he left, leaving me to ponder the chaos of emotions stirring within me.

Days passed, and it was just Travis checking in on me, bringing food and clothes, helping me shower. Yet, a strange part of me began to miss John, and the thought unsettled me. Was I completely losing my mind?

“I got you some new… Nair? I didn’t know they had different types,” Travis mumbled awkwardly at the bathroom door, handing it to me. He kept a respectful distance, clearly trying to give me space after our last encounter, though it only made my body long for the warmth he emitted even more.

“Thanks,” I said, clutching the towel tighter around my waist, taking the Nair from his hands. I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander over him—his tight clothing, the way his lips curved into that subtle smirk, and the unguarded softness in his eyes. I had gone from despising him to staring at him as if he were a captivating piece of art.

“Wait,” I called out, halting him in his tracks as he turned to leave.

“I...” My voice faltered, and he turned back to face me, curiosity lighting his features.

“Why did you kidnap me?” The question slipped out, sounding almost small, a weak echo of the fiery spirit I once had.

He regarded me silently, the tension thickening the air until he finally exhaled heavily.

“A few years ago, your father was responsible for putting me in jail... I guess I can’t let go of a grudge, and neither can my brother. I never intended—”

His voice trailed off, and I blinked, digesting his admission. This was all because of something my father had done?

“Oh…” My eyes drifted away, disappointment washing over me. I wasn’t sure why, but the more time I spent in this place, the easier it became to forget everything back home. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

He shut the door behind him as he left, the silence settling thickly around me. Talking felt increasingly pointless.

Later, he tried to do it again—this time, he made dinner. The table was set with two plates of steaming spaghetti and a bottle of champagne. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought it was a date. But it was strange; there wasn’t even any silverware.

“Sit,” he demanded, and the tantalizing aroma of the spaghetti wafted through the air, making my stomach flutter with hunger as I complied.

As I sat, he chained me to the table, and I watched as he made himself comfortable across from me, grabbing a fork, diving into his food like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How am I supposed to eat?” I raised my chained hands, a mix of curiosity and disbelief coursing through me.

He just smirked and lifted a forkful of spaghetti toward me, the tantalizing tease in his eyes unmistakable.

“You’re gonna feed me?” My eyes widened, realization dawning that he was actually enjoying this—why? What was going through that twisted mind of his?