Obsessed

Chapter 44

The door clicked softly behind Ronnie as she stepped into the interrogation room. The silence was unnerving—thick and sterile. Elise sat calmly, his hands folded on the table, his eyes focused on the grain of the wood as though it held secrets.

As soon as Ronnie stepped closer, his head tilted. A smile curved slowly across his face—too wide, too knowing.

“Veronicaaaaaa,” he sang, drawing out her name like a nursery rhyme. “You came! I missed yyyoooouuu!”

Ronnie paused, her heartbeat skipping at the sing-song tone. The way he grinned, teeth bared like a mischievous child, told her exactly which personality had taken control.

The child.

She softened her voice and stepped closer to the table, keeping her movements slow and calm. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re here. I missed you too.”

Elise beamed, rocking slightly in his chair. “You smell the same. Like pretty. Like vanilla and sugar.”

Ronnie forced a gentle smile even as unease curled in her stomach. “Thank you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him. “What happened to you after the crash, do you remember?”

His grin faltered, just slightly. His eyes darted to the corner of the room, then to the floor. He leaned in as if someone might be listening through the walls.

“I’m not supposed to say,” he whispered. “Not supposed to talk about the crash. Not supposed to talk about what came after.”

“Why not?” Ronnie asked, trying to keep her voice even, nurturing. “Did someone tell you not to?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “Master says no.”

Ronnie’s breath hitched. “Master?”

Elise giggled suddenly, a giddy, high-pitched sound. “He’s mad at you, Veronica. Verrry mad.” He sing-songed again, swaying in his seat. “Ronnie’s in troooouble.”

Ronnie’s fingers clenched beneath the table. She kept her voice light, like coaxing a skittish bird. “Why is Master mad at me?”

Elise leaned closer again, his eyes wide like he was sharing a terrible secret. “Because you’re having... S.E.X.” He spelled it out carefully, one letter at a time. “With the big scary man.”

She blinked, her mouth parting. The air in the room changed, subtle but immediate.

He was watching her now, head tilted, eyes gleaming. He was still smiling but the innocence was beginning to crack.

She exhaled, carefully. “Who told you that?”

“He knows. Ronnie and Scary Man sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G” Then he started to giggle, covering his mouth like a child who’d said something naughty. “That’s why he had ghost man try to pew-pew the scary man. But ghost man forgot about the armor! Boom! Ping! He missed the spot!”

Ronnie’s stomach twisted. Her fingers dug into her palm under the table.

She leaned in just slightly. “Ghost man… Who is that, sweetheart?”

Elise’s expression changed so fast it startled her.

His smile vanished.

His eyes widened, and he let out a small whimper.

“No, no, no, no…” he mumbled, scooting back in his chair. “I said too much. I wasn’t supposed to say.”

“Elise,” Ronnie said quickly, “it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe, it’s just me.”

But he wasn’t listening.

He started shaking his head, his hands clamping over his ears. “Bad Elise. Bad, stupid Elise! He’s gonna hurt me—gonna lock me in the dark again!”

And then he began to hit himself. Hard. Over and over.

“Elise—no!” Ronnie stood quickly, circling the table. “Stop—please, don’t do that!”

She reached for his wrists, gently trying to keep him from hurting himself, but he pulled back sharply and let out a shriek—not of pain, but of fear.

She froze.

“Elise, it’s me. It’s Ronnie,” she whispered, kneeling beside the chair. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise.”

But he had shut down.

His eyes were glassy now, his head twitching slightly, rocking again—but without the joy. His mouth mumbled incoherent things under his breath. His fingers twisted in his shirt.

He wasn’t coming back.

Ronnie stood slowly, her hands trembling, and turned for the door.

She walked out without a word and stepped back into the observation room where Reynolds, Jackson, and Mark were watching, silent and grim.

She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, the breath finally leaving her lungs. Her eyes were distant, her mind spinning.

“I lost him,” she said flatly. “He realized he slipped and now he’s shutting down.”

Reynolds cursed under his breath, turning away from the glass.

Mark stepped toward her, concern etched on his face. “Ronnie—are you okay?”

She didn’t answer that.

Instead, she looked at Reynolds. “There’s only one personality that might talk to us now. The aggressive one. He’s the only one who doesn’t hide. The others are afraid of him, but he... wants to be heard.”

Reynolds exhaled. “Then we need him. We need anything we can get.” He straightened, giving her a look that was both serious and apologetic. “Draw him out.”

Ronnie blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Reynolds said. “Do what you have to. Tossle your hair. Unbutton your shirt. Bat your eyes at him—I don’t care. If this guy is driven by dominance and lust, use it. Make him believe you’re his favorite toy. Get him to talk.”

Ronnie stiffened, crossing her arms.

Mark spoke then, his voice a low warning. “She’s not bait.”

“She’s the only one he wants to talk to,” Reynolds snapped. “And if she’s willing, I’m not asking her to do anything she can’t handle.”

Ronnie lifted a hand to stop Mark before he could say more.

“I’ll do it,” she said quietly.

Ronnie stepped away from the observation glass and moved toward the restroom down the hall. She wasn’t going to strip herself down like bait—but she knew how to project the kind of presence he'll respond to.

She splashed cold water on her face. Pulled her hair out of its twist and let it fall around her shoulders. She unbuttoned her blouse—not too much, just enough to suggest vulnerability without surrender. Then she stared at herself in the mirror.

Ronnie stood just outside the interrogation room door, heart pounding, jaw clenched.

She took a breath—deep, steadying—and let it fill her lungs before exhaling slowly.

When she stepped back into the room, she wasn’t Ronnie anymore.

She was a mask.

A performance.

Her posture shifted, shoulders back, hips relaxed. Her blouse hung a little looser now with the top three buttons undone, revealing just enough skin to distract without inviting. Her eyes softened into something coy, her lips curved slightly as if she held a secret.

She walked toward the table like a woman with every ounce of control—exactly the kind of thing Elise hated. And craved.

She sat down across from him, one leg crossed over the other. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, making her neckline visible, her voice smooth as silk.

“Miss me?” she purred, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Elise didn’t respond right away.

But something shifted.

The sniffling stopped. The twitching hands stilled. The frightened child was gone.

In an instant, his body straightened, rigid and predatory. His pupils dilated, swallowing the color of his eyes. His lips parted slowly, and a sharp grin cut across his face—sinister and sharp like a wolf spotting prey.

He licked his bottom lip, tongue lingering.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “They said you’ve been a bad girl.”

Ronnie tilted her head, smiling like she was flattered. “Mm. I have,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve done.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning in, eyes roaming over her like a predator circling prey. “Oh, I can I sent the photos.”

Behind the observation glass, Mark stood rigid. His arms were folded tightly, jaw clenched. Jackson watched in confusion, Reynolds looked like a hawk ready to pounce—but only Mark saw the flicker of Ronnie behind her act.

The part she never let the world see.

That soft edge to her smile. The teasing tilt of her head. The voice that dropped into a low hum of velvet.

That part was his.

And watching her give it to this monster made his blood boil.

Inside the room, Elise leaned back in his chair, legs spreading wider under the table like he owned the space between them. “So…” he said, his voice gravelly and taunting, “did the big scary man give it to you rough? Or did you make him beg?”

Ronnie’s expression didn’t falter. “You jealous?” she asked sweetly.

Elise smirked. “Not jealous, sweetheart. Territorial.” He tapped his temple. “You live in here now. Rent-free. I think about you all the time.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice a purr. “Then maybe you can help me. I’m trying to remember something... but my memory’s a little foggy.”

He grinned. “Mmm, you want me to fill in the blanks?”

“I want to know who the ghost man is,” she said softly, brushing her hair off her shoulder.

Elise laughed, low and mocking. “Oh, honey. You think I’d just tell you? You gotta earn it.”

He stared at her breasts when he said it.

Ronnie forced herself to keep playing. “Fine,” she said with a shrug. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said immediately. “Bent over this table. Begging.”

Her smile faltered.

He noticed. Smiled wider.

Behind the glass, Reynolds muttered, “Jesus Christ…”

Jackson shook his head in disbelief. “Is he giving anything useful?”

“No,” Mark said coldly. “He’s just using her to get off on the power.”

And inside the room, Ronnie realized the same thing.

She’d played the seductress. And he was loving every second of it—but offering nothing in return.

No details. No names. No clues. Just lust and dominance and the thrill of control.

Her patience snapped.

The shift was instant.

She sat back in her chair, uncrossing her legs and folding her arms with a bitter smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice now ice-cold. “You really are pathetic.”

Elise blinked.

“Let me guess,” she continued, her tone sharp and mocking. “Mommy didn’t hug you enough. Daddy locked you in closets. You touch yourself to thoughts of women begging for mercy because that’s the only way you get anyone to listen to you.”

Elise’s jaw twitched.

“You're not terrifying,” she said cruelly. “You’re a sad, broken little boy with mommy issues and a hard-on for violence.”

Behind the glass, Reynolds furrowed his brow. “What the f**k is she doing?”

Mark didn’t flinch. “She’s going to piss him off.”

Elise’s grin twitched—then vanished. His nostrils flared.

Ronnie wasn’t finished.

“You think any of this makes you powerful? That calling me names and pretending you’re in control scares me? You’re nothing. A puppet. A tool. You don’t matter.”

“Shut up,” Elise hissed, voice trembling.

But Ronnie leaned forward, voice like venom. “You want to be the Master, but you’re just a broken freak he keeps around to scare little girls.”

Elise’s hand twitched on the table.

Then—

“You should’ve seen his face,” she said with a cruel smile, “when your ghost man missed. Big scary man didn’t even flinch. He still f****d me, still came for me. Still held me. Still tasted me—”

“ENOUGH!” Elise roared.

And then he slipped.

“He should’ve shot you instead—Victor should have shoot you!”

Time froze.

Ronnie’s breath caught.

Behind the glass, Reynolds’ eyes widened. “Victor?”

Elise’s own face shifted the moment he realized what he’d said. His eyes blazed, and a snarl twisted his mouth.

“You f*****g cunt!” he screamed.

He lunged.

In an instant, he vaulted over the table. He slammed into her, knocking her chair backward, both of them crashing hard to the floor. His knees straddled her hips, hands wrapping tight around her throat.

Ronnie gasped, fingers clawing at his grip.

His eyes were wild. Spit flew from his mouth. “You stupid—w***e! I’ll kill you!”

The door burst open as alarms rang and chaos erupted.