Chapter 32
AVERY’S POV:
(+45)
The moment the door slammed shut behind him, I exhaled the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. It was as if every ounce of air had been trapped in my lungs since the moment I was dragged into that cold, soulless room. My body trembled, my chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow gasps. And then, I broke.
Tears spilled over, hot and relentless, streaking down my face as I crumbled. The strong exterior I had painstakingly constructed in front of Axel shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. My hands shook, and my shoulders sagged as the weight of everything I had endured pressed down on me. Yet, through the sobs that racked my body, I felt a sliver of pride. I hadn’t let him see this.
I fought to keep my head high in front of Axel because breaking down in front of him was a defeat I couldn’t afford. It was a vow I had made to myself the moment I became his prisoner: “Don’t let him see you break. Don’t let him see you weak.” And even though I was crumbling now, in the solitude of this cold, unforgiving room, at least it was my moment.
But my sadness quickly gave way to pain. A scaring, unrelenting pain radiated from my wrists. The heavy chains around them weren’t just cruel; they were torture. The cuffs dug into my skin, biting into the flesh like a thousand tiny needles. Worse still, I was suspended upright, the chains fastened to the wall, leaving me with no way to alleviate the strain on my arms. My body screamed in protest, muscles trembling and burning as the weight dragged at my joints.
The pain painted itself across my face in jagged lines. I bit my lips, and squeezed my eyes shut as though that would somehow help me escape the agony. My fingers had gone numb, and I couldn’t even flex them. Every movement, every slight adjustment, sent fresh waves of pain rippling through me. The chains rattled with each involuntary twitch, a mocking reminder of my captivity.
I tried to force myself to pass out, thinking maybe unconsciousness could bring me some reprieve. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to slow it, to make my mind slip into darkness. But my body wasn’t cooperating. Instead of blacking out, I was dragged into the relentless cycle of my nightmares–nightmares that had plagued me every night since I witnessed the gruesome scene. I’m not even sure where to begin, not even with the one that started when I was in prison. I often wonder if it was just my mind playing tricks on me, a cruel side effect of that traumatic night in our home.
It was always different. Sometimes, it was about the faceless man; other times, it was about the night that led to my imprisonment.
It was the same recurring dream: me holding a lifeless man, clad in white that was stained by his blood.
When I woke from the nightmare this time, I was gasping for air, my chest heaving as though I had been drowning. Sweat slicked my skin despite the chill in the room, and my wrists throbbed with fresh pain. I hung there, suspended and helpless, my body aching in ways I didn’t think possible.
My mind drifted, grasping at anything to keep me from succumbing to the pain. The strange woman who helped me–why had she called me Inez? Her words haunted me, circling my thoughts like vultures. And the explosion… was that Axel’s doing? Was she still alive, or had he ended her life as easily as snuffing out a flame?
And what about this tattoo? What did it mean in any way? Now that I was here, I couldn’t stare at it.
The questions came faster than I could keep up with. My thoughts splintered in every direction, and in the chaos, I found myself thinking of Astrid and Chase. Were they snuggled in bed right now, sharing laughter and warmth while I rotted in this hell? The thought made my stomach churn, a sickening cocktail of anger and despair.
I began to question everything. Chase never loved me. Not truly. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, leaving me breathless. I only wondered why he ever pursued me in the first place. No–why my mother introduced us.
She had been so eager, practically shoving me into his arms. I could still remember the way her face lit up when we got married. She cried tears of joy, looking at me as if I had just secured the best future imaginable. “You’ve made us all so proud, Avery,” she had said with emotion in her voice, something I rarely got from her. I just wanted her to be proud of me. Happy with me, and marrying Chase was the only way I got that.
1/3
2/3
1
$ 85%t
+45
Chapter 32
But now, looking back, I realized how naïve I had been. Tender and trusting, I had believed every word Chase said, every promise he made. I had loved him with a purity and devotion that bordered on foolishness.
I was fifteen when we met. He was twenty–six. Too old, but my mother saw no issue with it. She was thrilled, blinded by his charm, his wealth, and the promise of a secure future. We dated for three years before getting married when I turned eighteen. At nineteen, he finally consummated our marriage–an event he called “special”
It all felt so orchestrated now, like my life had been written out by someone else, and I was just playing the part they had assigned me. When I was twenty–two, I went to prison for him.
I could still remember that night vividly. I had walked into the kitchen to find the blonde woman lying on the floor. Blood was everywhere, staining the pristine white tiles. She was naked, her body battered and broken, her hair ripped out in patches with her neck twisted in an unnatural position. The sight was so gruesome I nearly vomited.
Before I could process what I was seeing, Chase was by my side, crouched low, his hands gripping my arms tightly as he panicked. His face was a mask of desperation.
“Avery, you have to help me.” His voice was urgent, almost frantic. “Call the police. Tell them it was you. Please, Avery, you’re the only one who can save me.”
I stared at him, my mind reeling. He was asking me to confess to murder, one I had no idea about.
“If this gets out,” he continued, his voice breaking, “I’ll lose everything. My father will never make me CEO. It’ll ruin us–ruin me. But if you take the blame, I can fix this. I can protect you. Don’t you see? This is the only way.”
His words were a jumble in my mind, but one thing stood out: “If you love me, you’ll do this.”
I had always been desperate to prove my love for him, to show him how devoted I was. So I called the police. When they arrived, I told them the blonde had been a jealous woman chasing after Chase, and in a fit of rage, I had attacked her. I said I had bashed her head with a weapon.
Even as I spoke the words, they felt foreign, like they were coming from someone else. But Chase stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder, his grip reassuring. He whispered words of love and gratitude in my ear, promising me that this was for the
best.
He promised to get me out of prison quickly, leveraging his connections and power. I believed him, but now, suspended in this room, my body aching and my mind racing, I see the truth. I was just a pawn, manipulated and discarded when I was no longer useful – all to protect his reputation and the Grayson household name.
The pain in my arms was unbearable, each second stretching into an eternity. My shoulders felt like they were being torn from their sockets, the cuffs digging deeper into my skin with every passing moment. I tried to distract myself, to think of anything other than the agony coursing through my body.
But no matter where my mind wandered, it always came back to the same question: Could I save myself?
The thought was both a beacon of hope and a cruel taunt. The room was silent except for the soft clinking of the chains as I shifted. My breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a battle against the crushing weight of despair.
And then, a sound broke through the quiet. A faint click, like the turning of a lock. My heart leapt into my throat as I strained to see the door.
Someone was coming.
Chapter 33
Chapter 33
