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Anissa
I don’t say a word as he strides away.
I remain seated, stuck in sullen silence as the sunlight fades and darkness rapidly descends. The shadows grow taller, wider, as the gentle lap of the ocean becomes louder.
I’m entirely lost.
Physically and mentally.
I’m angry at myself. At Cole. And Luca. Not to mention that old fucking asshole on the boat.
But the aggression toward my captor is tainted with curiosity.
There was something different about him tonight. A change in demeanor I’m not familiar with.
He needs me for something. What? I’m not sure.
I clung too tight to my pride to ask. Or even listen.
I refused to surrender. I still don’t want to budge an inch. Now, I’m stuck in ignorance.
It doesn’t take long for the smell of a home-cooked meal to fill the air, brushing away the scent of salt and replacing it with enough herbs and spices to make my mouth salivate.
The fruit wasn’t enough. It barely touched the sides of my hunger, and my throat remains dry with no more water to soothe the ache.
I’m growing cold. I’m dirty as hell. My feet throb. And I’m tired—the type of weary tiredness that starts in the bones and works its way out.
Yet, I can’t will myself to get up and walk into that house with my tail between my legs. I don’t want to go crawling back to him, even after his deluded attempt to make peace.
I’m always at war with him, regardless of the topic or the location. It’s fight, fight, fight, and I’m not sure I know how to act any different.
Work together?
I scoff every time I contemplate the comedic partnership.
I can’t work with him. I wouldn’t even know how. Not when he’s manipulated and fooled me enough times to eviscerate my self-respect.
The problem is, he brought me here for a reason. He wouldn’t risk his freedom for a game. He couldn’t. He acts invincible, but believing he can get away with the abduction of an FBI agent is insane.
He must need me for something.
And I’m certain I won’t leave this island until he gets what he wants.
I close my eyes and rerun our conversation in my mind.
He was emotional. More prone to anger than his usual state of being calm and in control. He’d also seemed genuinely surprised and disturbed at the mention of my injuries.
I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.
I can’t believe his kindness at the moment. There’s only speculation.
He tied me up. Drugged me. Took me from the US, without my consent or a passport.
But since waking in a foreign country, I guess I could agree he hasn’t hurt me.
He didn’t lock me in the bedroom. There weren’t any restraints keeping me captive. He left me alone all day, not chasing me down or demanding anything from me. He gave me space, and later, food and water. He also arranged for my clothes to be brought here.
I can only conclude he wants my comfort.
I just wish I knew why.
The grass rustles in the breeze while I continue to speculate, the cool chill sinking into my arms. The temperature only drops with the passing hours.
At one point, I think I hear my name called in the distance. The temptation of a warm bed almost has me responding. But I remain in place, dozing against the trunk of the tree until the rustle of grass grows, the sound loud enough to bring me back to consciousness.
This time it’s a contained noise. Not caused by the breeze. It’s specific. To my right. Approaching.
“Cole?”
I sit up straight, the star-filled night subtly illuminating the darkness.
“Luca?”
My heartbeat increases, not quite loud enough to silence the rustle, rustle, rustle.
“I know you’re there.” I raise my voice and slowly inch to my feet, grabbing one of my sharpened sticks from the pile. “I can hear you.”
There’s no response. Not in words or in continued sound.
Everything falls quiet. There’s only the lap of the ocean and my pounding pulse thundering in my ears.
“Is this another game? Am I meant to be scared?”
If so, he might be succeeding.
My imagination runs wild wondering what he’s trying to achieve this time. Am I expected to run? Is this one of those games where rich fuckers pay to hunt people down?
A twig breaks to my left. A crunch of grass follows.
I twist toward the noise and scan the horizon for a silhouette.
Someone is out here.
I’m not alone.
“Cole?” I hold my stance, frozen, barely breathing. I stay there for long minutes, becoming one with the night. “I’ve got a weapon.”
I cling tight to the stick, my palm growing slick with sweat. There’s another rustle. A crunch. A snap.
Air congeals in my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“I’m—”
Something slides over my foot. Heavy and smooth.
I scream, not even thinking before I break into a run and escape the circle of trees. Pain slices through my bare feet. I step on pebbles, rocks, prickles, and still I keep ru
I cry out, the impact sending an explosion of pain to slice through my collarbone and down my arm.
“Jesus. Fuck.” I drop the stick and roll onto my back. I clutch at my shoulder, my fingers gliding over dry material, not blood, despite feeling like I’ve been shot.
There’s another rustle, a snap, and I’m on my feet again, ignoring the injury to continue sprinting toward the house. My vision through the darkness vanishes as I focus on those bright lights, but I don’t care.
I keep ru
Air pants from my lungs as I push myself faster, bumping into the hedge, before my sore shoulder collides with something solid and unyielding. I twirl with the impact. I probably perform a perfect pirouette before starting another rapid descent toward the ground, only to be stopped by strong hands gripping my arms to pull me upright.
“Cole?”
In this moment, I don’t feel any anger. Or fear. Or resentment.
I’ve been ru
“No, not Cole.”
Luca.
His deep voice brings an icy chill.
I yank my arms from his grasp, wincing at the throb in my shoulder, and stumble backward, my feet co
“Calm down,” he warns. “You’re safe.”
I continue retreating, not believing him. “Where’s Cole?”
He steps toward me, his profile gaining more definition as my eyes adjust. He’s wearing a thread-bare tank and boxers, exposing inch after inch of muscle, which seems like a threat to my safety. “Inside. Asleep.”
It doesn’t feel right that the man who abducted me now suddenly seems like my only solace. In fact, it feels downright pathetic, but there’s no one else. Nothing else.
All I have to cling to is the brief glimpse of Cole’s kindness and his solemn promise that he has no intention of hurting me.
“Are you okay?” Luca’s voice softens. “I heard you scream.”
My cheeks heat.
I’d thought I was under attack, when it’s more likely I’ve scared the hell out of whatever creatures call this island home.
“Anissa?” His shadowed hand reaches out.
“Stop.” Whatever he’s trying to achieve—my trust, my comfort—he’s not going to succeed.
“Okay.” His arm falls to his side. “Are you ready to come into the house? There’s leftover di