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?

Without warning, my merciless kidnapper pressed a pair of tweezers against the wounds in my foot. He didn't care about the pressure he was applying, methodically removing glass shard after shard, all while ignoring my cries of pain. He held my foot tightly as he cleaned the wounds with a cloth soaked in some stinging liquid.

In that moment, I realized he was inhuman; he had no compassion and reveled in the torment he inflicted on others, as if suffering were his vocation.

Having no strength left to protest, I let him bandage my feet in gauze. Once he was done, he leaned closer while I instinctively recoiled. His glinting chocolate-brown eyes studied me for a moment before he unlocked my wrist from the handcuff. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned.

"I hired a female worker. She will assist you. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut, or her blood is on you. Food will be delivered immediately, make sure you eat, or I'll have no choice but to let my doctor put you on IV. You need food to survive," he stated as he stood and headed for the entrance.

Staring at him in confusion, I asked, "Why won't you just kill me and be done with it?"

He paused at the half-open door, his lips pursed as he stared at the floor. "You should also take a shower." He ignored my question and left the room.

I couldn't take my eyes off the door after he left, my mind racing to process the last few minutes, but what stunned me more was his particular threat: "I hired a female worker. She will assist you. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut, or her blood is on you."

I hadn't finished processing everything when the door opened again, and as promised, a young woman entered, pushing a service trolley loaded with food. Behind her were his men, keeping watch.

"Keep the contract in mind," came the monstrous voice of the man in his usual uniform.

The woman nodded instantly as the men exited, leaving just the two of us in the room.

Although she spoke, she seemed free, unlike me, who had been treated like a wild animal. "Hey," she said slowly and quietly.

I didn't respond, just watched her push the trolley closer. "I'm Amelia. I was recruited by your husband hours ago," she murmured.

My jaw dropped involuntarily. Husband? He had to be kidding. "He's not my husband," I denied.

"You should eat. I suggest you start with something warm and liquid." She ignored my protest and began serving me coffee.

"Help me, please," I whispered. "I promise I don't know him. He kidnapped me. He wants revenge for something I have no idea about. Please help me. I've seen him kill. He's probably going to kill me. Please help me." I grasped her hand, staring at her with pleading eyes.

"You're sick, you're going through treatment, and it's reacting in your body," she replied quietly.

My eyes widened in surprise. Was she blind? Couldn't she see how badly I looked? Who treats their wife like a psycho? Didn't she see the blood on my clothes, my disheveled hair, my pallor?

Shaking my head, I began, "It's all a lie. Everything you've heard is a lie. Please save me; I don't want to die here. I have family, school, and friends. Please." I didn't notice the tears falling until one landed on Amelia's hand.

"You need to eat, and then I will help you clean up without messing up the bandage." She acted unconcerned, or maybe she wanted to appear that way, though her hands trembled slightly.

"All you have to do is keep your mouth shut, or her blood is on you," echoed in my head.

Taking a deep breath, I surrendered to the moment. I took the mug from her and sipped cautiously, momentarily wondering if it was poisoned. Then I also thought if they wanted me dead, they would make it more entertaining than poisoning my food. With that subtle consolation, I devoured everything; I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten.

Amelia sat where my ruthless kidnapper had earlier, watching me silently until I couldn't eat anymore. I had to admit I felt much better. The food had quelled the gnawing hunger in my stomach.

After taking a warm bath in the spacious tub, Amelia returned with a pair of silky short pajamas and helped me tidy my hair.

I had to say I looked much better than I had before, though I still bore dark circles under my eyes and the slight cut on my finger throbbed.

Feeling like a zombie, I walked back to the room, finding the bed redressed with an unnecessary mountain of pillows.

It was already dark; the clock read ten, though I had no idea what day it was.

"Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow," Amelia said.

"You're staying here?" I asked, curious.

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, the driver's waiting for me outside."

Great! I'd be left alone with an unknown number of men in the same building. "Alright, see you tomorrow." My smile faltered, failing to reach my eyes.

She shot me a sad smile and left, turning off the bedroom light as she exited.