My Ruthless Kidnapper

Chapter Three: A monster

Turning my head from side to side, I blinked against the cruel sunlight that hit my face. Yes, I was back to square one, and worse; I was cuffed by the wrist to a nightstand.

Great.

With my free hand, I mustered the effort to push myself into a sitting position and found the asshole lounging in an armchair, facing the bed. The ferocity in his gaze intensified the knot in my chest.

Unable to tear my eyes away from his clenched jaw and balled fists, I felt a cocktail of anger, hopelessness, and confusion swirled within me, mixing with the stabbing pain in my chest. I struggled to suppress the pool of tears that threatened to spill over.

"Where do you think you were going?" he asked, his face twisted in anger, but his tone was icy.

"Where am I? What do you want from me?" I shivered between sobs. My foot throbbed, my head ached, and my stomach churned. Everything hurt.

Rising from the armchair, he took slow, deliberate steps until he reached the foot of the bed, leaning over with both palms flat on the soft surface. I instinctively hugged my legs, desperate to keep him at a distance.

But a sharp pain shot through my foot, prompting me to wince. "Revenge," he said, his calm demeanor further confusing me.

I swallowed, my brows furrowing. "There must be some misunderstanding. I don't know you, I've done nothing to you. Please, just let me go. I promise no one will know about this." I pleaded.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head. "You're right, Cheryl Mason. You've done nothing to me. But why would I let you go? My men don't make mistakes. They know better."

Sniffling, I closed my eyes for a moment. "How do you know my name?"

"Told you, my men know better." He stood up straight and began pacing the room.

"Your men? Like the one you killed the other day?" I snapped, barely containing my anger.

"Yes, just as I did thirty minutes ago while you were asleep." He smirked, pausing to toy with a handful of stones in his hand.

My heart raced as a tear rolled down my cheek. "So you kill people? Innocent people?" My voice barely rose above a whisper.

"What does that make me?" He lifted his questioning gaze to meet mine.

"A monster," I spat.

He exhaled a laugh. "Your feet look bad." Just like that, as if my words had never registered, he walked toward a door that revealed a bathroom behind it.

Within ten seconds, he returned with a first aid kit. What did he think he was doing sitting at the edge of the bed? I instinctively shifted as much as the cuff allowed. There was no way I would let a murderer touch me.

"Don't be stubborn. If you hadn't been at all difficult, everything would have been easier. I wouldn't have had to restrain you, and you wouldn't have stepped on glass. Hell, there wouldn't be any glass in this room." He sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry I wasn't easier for my kidnapper, or murderer, is it?" I retorted sarcastically, even though I trembled like Rose from Titanic, blowing a whistle after letting go of the man she loved most.

"Cheryl." He sounded unaffected by my words.

"Stop saying my name. You know nothing about me. You're a ruthless person with no regard for life." I said, surrendering to whatever consequences awaited me.

He inhaled sharply and pulled my legs forcefully onto his thighs. The pain was acute, and regret coursed through me. Why had I left home that night? Why hadn't I listened to my dad?