Chapter Four
1042 Words
Arabelle
My feet barely cleared the threshold before Declan yanked me fully inside. The door slammed shut behind us with a force so loud it echoed in my bones, the sound sharp and final, like a lock snapping into place.
“Declan, stop!” I cried, twisting my arm, panic shooting through me as his fingers tightened instead. His grip burned, nails digging into my skin like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
“You’re making this difficult,” he snapped, shoving me forward.
I stumbled, barely keeping my balance. The apartment felt wrong the second I stepped inside. The air was thick and heavy, soaked in that same overpowering perfume. It clung to my throat, made my head spin. Beneath it was another smell sharp and bitter. Alcohol. My stomach turned.
The curtains were drawn tight even though it was still daylight outside. No sunlight. No warmth. The lights were off, leaving the room dim and shadowed. It felt less like a home and more like a cage.
“Let go of me,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm. “You’re hurting me.”
He released my arm suddenly, but the relief didn’t last. The next second, his hand was on my shoulder, shoving me hard. I lost my footing and fell back onto the couch, my heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
Pain pulsed where his fingers had been. I clutched my arm, my chest tight, breath shallow.
“You think I’m stupid?” Declan said, pacing back and forth in front of me like a caged animal. His movements were sharp, restless, dangerous. “You think I don’t see through you?”
I shook my head slowly, trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong so fast. “Declan… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He stopped suddenly and turned toward me, his eyes dark and burning. “Girls like you always pretend,” he said.
“Girls like me?” I whispered.
“Rich,” he spat. “Sheltered. Spoiled. Acting innocent while dangling help in front of men like me.”
“That’s not true,” I said, my voice breaking. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. Crying wouldn’t help me now. “I never dangled anything. I loved you. I trusted you.”
He laughed. It was short and harsh, nothing like the laugh I used to know. That laugh used to be warm. Easy. This one felt ugly.
“Love?” he scoffed. “Love doesn’t pay bills, Arabelle. Love doesn’t buy respect. Love doesn’t get you anywhere in this world.”
“So that’s what this is?” I asked, slowly pushing myself up from the couch. My legs felt weak, like they might give out at any second, but I refused to stay seated. I refused to look small. “Money?”
“You owe me,” he said flatly.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I snapped back, my voice cracking despite myself. “I helped you because I wanted to. Because I cared. But this—” I gestured between us, my hand shaking. “This is wrong. You’re wrong.”
His pacing stopped. He stared at me, really stared, like he was seeing me for the first time—and didn’t like what he saw.
“You’re not leaving here,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “until I get what I want.”
My breath caught painfully in my chest. “Declan… please. This isn’t you.”
He stepped closer. Too close. I took a step back, then another, until my knees hit the edge of the table behind me.
“You think I asked nicely because I had a choice?” he said quietly. His voice was low now, calm in a way that scared me more than shouting. “I’m done begging.”
Fear wrapped around my chest like a tight band, squeezing the air out of my lungs. My hands trembled at my sides.
My phone.
I needed my phone.
I glanced toward my bag, sitting near the door where I’d dropped it when he dragged me inside.
Declan noticed immediately.
In one swift move, he crossed the room and grabbed it before I could even take a step.
“No,” I said, panic flooding my voice. “Declan, please. Give it back.”
He opened the bag, pulled out my phone, and turned it over in his hand. Then he smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was slow. Cold.
Before I could react, he pressed the button and powered it off.
The screen went black.
The sound was small. Soft.
Final.
My knees felt like they might buckle. “You can’t do this,” I whispered.
“You’re trapped, Arabelle,” he said calmly, slipping the phone into his pocket. “So let’s stop pretending.”
I shook my head, backing away until my spine hit the wall. “You don’t have to do this,” I said desperately. “We can talk. We can fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” he replied. “You made your choice.”
“I made my choice?” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “I came here to be honest with you. That’s not a crime.”
He stepped closer again, blocking my path, his shadow swallowing me whole. “Honesty doesn’t help me,” he said. “Money does.”
A sudden knock echoed through the apartment.
I froze.
Declan froze too.
The knock came again, louder this time.
“Declan?” a woman’s voice called from outside. “Open up.”
My blood turned to ice.
A woman.
My heart slammed against my ribs as hope flared—small, fragile, but there. Someone else was here. Someone who could see. Who could hear.
Declan’s jaw tightened. His eyes snapped to me, sharp and warning.
“Don’t say a word,” he whispered.
The door handle began to turn.
My pulse raced, my mind screaming. This was my chance. My only chance.
I opened my mouth torn between fear and hope as the door slowly started to open.
- Writer
