Chapter 6. No going back

Adeleine’s POV


Not a single word escaped my lips as I stared—disbelief clawing at my chest—at the man bound before me. Courtney had been tormenting him for hours, and I thought it was nothing but business. But the moment my eyes locked on his face, the world tilted.


Fredrin.


The bastard.


One of the devils who had broken me. Besides Blaine, he was the nightmare etched into my bones.


“How the hell did you manage to stay hidden this long?!” My voice cracked with fury, the words ripped straight from my gut. I could feel the rage building, burning through me like wildfire. “I know Blaine helped you. Just admit it!”


My hands trembled—pain and rage feeding each other—as his face dragged me back to nights I had fought so hard to bury.


He looked wrecked, bloodied and worn, bullets having already torn through his flesh courtesy of Courtney. His shirt was stained, his hair tangled, his eyes heavy.


“Answer me, you bastard!” My scream rattled the walls. “How the hell did you escape? You should be rotting in the ground!”


Fredrin lifted his head, eyes flat, as if I were nothing. “Stop yelling.” His tone was indifferent, dismissive. He even closed his eyes. “I don’t even know who the hell you are.”


The rage in me twisted into something sharper, colder. “So you don’t remember me?”


Nothing. No answer.


“You fucking moron!” My voice ripped out, raw. My feet moved before I could stop them, carrying me to the long table. My hand snatched a knife, steel glinting under the light, ready to spill blood.


Each step I took back toward him was heavier, driven by the storm in my chest. His eyes shot open, disbelief flashing for a split second.


“What the hell is your problem?”


“I want you to remember me!” The words erupted, fueled by years of silence, years of pain.


And then—I drove the knife straight into his chest.
The blade slipped from my grip as quickly as the strength in my legs. I collapsed to my knees, trembling, my lungs refusing to breathe.


And then it all came rushing back. His hands. His fists. His laughter as he crushed me. The suffocating weight, the endless screams, the bruises that never faded. Fredrin wasn’t just a memory—he was a scar carved deep into my soul. Three years had passed, and still his shadow lived inside me, feeding on me.


“Adeleine.”


Courtney’s voice cut through the fog, sharp, steady, real. I lifted my eyes. His gaze flicked from me to Fredrin’s bleeding body, then back. Shock hardened into disbelief.


Had I really done it?


Had I killed him?


No. It wasn’t me. Couldn’t be me.


Courtney’s eyes narrowed, searching mine for answers.


“I—I’m sorry, Courtney. I—”


Before the words could finish, he crossed the room in strides, kneeling down, pulling me into his arms. His embrace was rough, grounding, solid—everything I wasn’t. My tears broke free, spilling against his chest as my body shook.

Later, silence sat heavy between us. His room, his rules, and I sat beside him on the couch, unable to look him in the eye. A bottle of champagne waited on the table, two glasses half-full, dishes untouched. I had insisted on the drinking. Maybe the burn of alcohol could make me speak.


“I know him,” I whispered finally, shame heavy on my chest. “Three years ago, Blaine introduced us. They were friends… until one night when Blaine wasn’t home. Fredrin… he came into my room and raped me. Four times. Every time worse than the last. He hit me, strangled me… over and over.”


Courtney’s jaw tensed, hands slipping into his pockets. His eyes were sharp, assessing. “Did you fight?”


“I tried,” I said, meeting his gaze briefly. “But I was too weak. He had me every time.”


“And Blaine?” His voice was low, deadly calm.


“It took me a week to tell him,” I admitted, bitterness creeping in. “He promised he’d send Fredrin to jail. But… nothing. Fredrin’s still here.” I laughed hollowly. “Funny world, isn’t it? Both of us, the same enemy.”


Courtney placed his hands over mine, firm, steady. “About the kiss earlier…” His eyes flickered with something—regret? “I hope it didn’t drag up anything...”


 I shook my head. That kiss didn’t haunt me. I’d wanted it. Needed it.


 “I know you’re worried, but I’ve taken care of it,” he said, voice cutting through the chaos in my head. Do you understand? You’re safe.”


“I’m sorry,” I muttered, shame pulling my head down. “Blaine… when he finds out Fredrin is dead, he’ll kill me.”


“Don’t,” he interrupted, sharp as a blade. “You’re innocent.” His smirk was dangerous, hot.


“What do you mean?”


“From the moment you stepped into my house, you let me be your executioner.” His eyes glinted, smoldering, his tone cold and commanding.


“You know exactly what I mean,” he added, downing another glass of champagne. “Not once did you show regret. Not an ounce.”


“So, what now?” I asked, unsure where he was going.


“That your husband’s a coward,” he said flatly. “Would’ve been dead the moment I decided. Men like him, think money, power, connections make them untouchable. They don’t. Not here. Not with me.”


Our eyes met, fire and unspoken intensity burning. My pulse raced. The fear that had consumed me earlier faded. Drawn to him—I didn’t understand why, but I couldn’t deny it.


I took a sip of champagne, forcing my voice steady. “Thank you for helping me, Courtney.”


He shook his head slowly. Sadness? Something deeper I couldn’t name. “Pain like yours… it stays. But this isn’t the end.”


I managed a small smile. “You’re right.”


But the alcohol was burning through me, pulling me into a haze. My head swayed, and he caught it instantly.


“You’re drunk, Adeleine. You need to rest.”


But I grabbed his wrist. He turned—and I kissed him.
This time, I didn’t hold back. And neither did he. His hand gripped my waist, rough, urgent, pulling me in. His mouth devoured mine, his tongue tracing, claiming. A moan rumbled from his chest, low and raw.


When we broke apart, gasping, I dared to whisper. “No one’s ever made me feel this way.”


He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.


Instead, he lifted me, set me on the table, his lips crashing back onto mine, fiercer, hungrier. His hands explored, gripping, holding, consuming. His eyes burned when we broke for breath, fire and restraint warring inside him.


And for a moment, I knew—whatever line we’d crossed, there was no going back.


Courtney straightened, his back to me, voice low but sharp. “You rest. That’s an order.”


With that, he walked out, leaving me trembling, dazed, and wanting more.


I sank back against the table, heart pounding. My mind spun.


Did I… really kiss him?