Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 23

The scar on her face is faint, barely visible unless you know where to look. But I know every line of it, a constant reminder of that night. She'd only known me for three days back then, but if she hadn't been there... I might not even be here. I never heard from her again after that, and her family vanished from the neighborhood within days.

Even now, every time I think about it, I can't shake the guilt that gnaws at me. It's like a weight I carry, one that never goes away.

Then Marcus shoves Kaya toward me, and she stumbles, crashing to the floor. Her face is pale, eyes glazed, like she's already somewhere far away. He sneers, looking down at her with pure disdain. "She was a pretty piece of meat. Vaughn's done with her, so she's worthless to me too." His gaze shifts, hardening as it lands on me. "But you... you ruined everything. Both of our lives."

His words hit like a slap, but I grit my teeth, swallowing the fear, the anger clawing its way up my throat. "And what exactly have you done that's any different from what I said in the report?" The words come out sharper than I intended, my voice trembling.

He stares at me, the silence stretching, thick with tension. Then he steps closer, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. His eyes burn with a hatred that's almost palpable. "You're just like your mother," he spits, each word laced with venom.

"Hypocrite." My voice trembles, but I don't back down. "You're worse than your father. He beat up my mom, and you? You tried to use me so your father could take over my dad's company. How does that make you any different, Marcus?"

He lunges forward, his fingers tangling in my hair as he yanks my head back, forcing me to look him dead in the eyes. His face twists, that familiar sneer curling his lip as his grip tightens, pain prickling along my scalp.

"What gave you the right," he growls, voice low and seething, "to call me a fucking rapist?"
I can't look at him. Not like this. Not with his eyes hollow and burning with a rage that chills me to the bone.

"I was brutally fucking tortured every damn second in that cell," he seethes, his voice a low, venomous whisper. "They stripped me down, shoved my face in the dirt. Days without food, without water. The beatings never stopped. They'd take turns—kicking, punching, dragging me by my hair. I had to count the bruises, the broken bones, just to keep myself from going insane."

The gun digs harder into my forehead, the cold press of metal like ice against my skin. My breath is trapped in my chest, but his words keep coming, each one sharper than the last.

"What gave you the right, Naomi?" His voice wavers, raw and laced with hatred. "What gave you the fucking right to call me a rapist? To take my future, my life—everything—from me?"

Tears spill down my cheeks, trembling as I look up at him, my voice barely a whisper. "Marcus..."

His face is a twisted mask of anger, and he shakes his head, jaw tight. "You're dead to me, Naomi. Completely fucking dead." His voice is raw, each word like a punch, laced with a bitterness that makes my stomach twist. "Every single day, I dream of killing you. God knows I want to. But every damn time I get close, every time I even think of laying a hand on you... something in me snaps. Like I'm tethered to you, and I don't even understand why."

His hand clenches, knuckles white, as he steps closer, the fury in his eyes turning almost desperate.
"Why do you have this grip on me? Why can't I just end you and be done with it?"

"Please," my voice is barely a whimper, the words choked and raw. "I... I had no choice."

"No choice?" He sneers, the disgust in his tone cutting through me like ice. He jerks his head toward Kaya. "Kaya, get the hell out. Leave."

My eyes dart to her, catching that last, broken look she gives me, her eyes rimmed with red, before she slips into the shadows, disappearing without a word. The emptiness she leaves behind feels like a cavern opening up inside me.

He steps closer, towering over me, his gaze dark and unyielding. "Let's play a game, Naomi. Since we both know how much you love that." He pulls out the gun, pressing the cold metal against my lips, forcing it back into my mouth. "I ask questions. You nod for yes or no. Don't worry—there are only three bullets in here."

My whole body shakes, every nerve on fire with terror. My heart races so fast I swear it might tear out of my chest, and cold sweat trickles down my spine. My breaths are shallow, trembling as I stare up at him, feeling like a trapped animal.

Could you have told the truth if you wanted to?" His voice drips with a cold fury, each word laced with venom.

I nod, barely able to breathe.

The metallic click of the gun echoes, and I let out a muffled scream, my body tensing instinctively. "Liar." His eyes blaze with a twisted satisfaction, watching me shrink. "Tell me, would you want to live my life?"

I force another nod, feeling the fear clawing up my throat.

He clicks the gun again, the sound slicing through me. My heart skips, my skin going cold. "Did you come to look for me?"

This time, I freeze, unable to make any motion. I just stare, feeling his gaze dig into me, reading every hesitation, every tremor in my eyes.

After a long, loaded silence, he pulls the gun out of my mouth, and I gasp, lips trembling, desperate to find my voice. "Marcus, please—"

He cuts me off with a look of pure disdain. "You really are pathetic." His words are ice, hitting deeper than the gun ever could.

I swallow hard, barely holding back the tears that threaten to spill. "Now... hear my side of the story." My voice is shaky, barely a whisper, but it's all I can manage.

The night after the church.

"Do you want to live?" Mom's voice is flat, unreadable. But it's the cold metal of the knife pressed against my neck that sends a shiver of terror straight through me. Her gaze is empty, almost hollow, but that's what makes it worse—she's calm. Steady. And that knife isn't moving.

"Baby girl," she says, like she's saying something sweet, but her words slice through me, "I want you to live, you know? I do. But you can't be out there, running around, taking whatever you want... while I'm here, paying the price."

"Mom," I breathe, my back pressing harder against the wall, the chill seeping into my bones. My voice is barely a whisper, shaking. "What... what are you doing?"

"I did everything I could to escape that bastard," Mom spits, her voice low and sharp, eyes flashing with a fury I've never seen before. "But my own daughter... my own flesh and blood is out there, messing around with his son." She shakes her head, disgust twisting her features. "It's a shame. Such a shame. He's going to use you, just like his father did to me. I should kill you right here, end the cycle myself, right?"

"Mom, stop!" My voice breaks, my breath jagged as panic takes over. I hadn't even had the chance to go home, to shake off the day, to breathe—and now she's here, holding a gun on me, eyes wild. "This isn't funny!"

She steps closer, pressing the tip of the knife harder, making me gasp. A cold smile curling at the edges of her lips. "You will agree to my terms," she says, each word dripping with venom. "If not, I'll kill you myself."

I can barely breathe, every nerve screaming. This is the woman who left me, and right now, she looks exactly like a stranger.