All Chapters of His Hidden Obsession : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I know who he is?My mind spins through a blur of faces, voices, and memories. A stalker? Someone from school? Someone who follows me online and knows where I live? I stare into the dark, racking my brain.Nothing. Nothing. Fucking nothing.I hate myself for being a little too excited when I hear his footsteps descending. His presence comes with light, and it fills me with a thrill I can't name. I lift myself off the ground despite how weak I am. I sit up, lean my head against the wall, squinting to get a better look at him. He’s here with the bucket of warm water again—to wash me. “Are you ready?” he asks, kneeling in front of me.“Why?” My throat hurts. I haven't said a word since he left me. Now that he’s here again, my voice sounds strange to my own ears. “Why. Do. You. Hate. Me?”“You're confused,” he says quietly, his tone almost conversational. This isn't a weather report. Fucking speak like you're guilty of some heinous crime, you fucking bastard. “That’s fine,” he continues.

His words could be acid for all I care. Because all they do is burn through me. Considering how I let him use my mouth, I should be humiliated, but I'm not. Logic has no place in my life anymore. I live each day simply to survive in the monster’s den. I guess the desire to free my aching arms won at last. Mask doesn't let go after he's untied me. He still sits behind, his massive body pressed against my back. His chest rising and falling against my spine. I can feel his cock rock-hard and thumping right against the small of my waist. The liquid between my thighs has become a pool.His thumb traces the indentation on my wrists, carefully massaging them. I think I'm imagining things or does he actually care? With no words exchanged between us, he pulls me up against him, standing to my feet, and bending me from the waist. He positions his cock to my wet sex, about to push himself inside me. I wriggle in his grasp until he lets go.“Sex wasn't part of our deal,” I choke out, glaring at

Mask doesn’t speak. He watches me with keen interest. I don’t know why I said what I said or why I’m reopening old wounds, but it feels easy talking to him now. Tears blur my vision as I swallow down the lump in my throat, drowning out the sane voice in my head telling me that talking about my past to my captor isn’t normal. “He was fine when he left for work. He was a very careful driver. But two hours later, we got a call. A truck ran over his car. I sat beside his hospital bed and rubbed that ring over and over again until my skin was raw. I wished with everything I had for him to come back to me. He never did. He died that same morning. The wish never came true... but I couldn't stop rubbing the ring. I couldn't take it off.” I look up at Mask, my teary eyes locking onto his bright blue gaze in the dim light. “That ring is the only thing I have left of the only man who ever truly loved me. When grief almost killed me, that ring held me in place. Please, give it back.” I bat

She had quite a following on all her social media accounts. She took her followers along on her day, showing off some quiet café she loved or a corner of the city she liked to wander.I couldn't stop watching her. I scrolled through every video, every picture, completely consumed. That was the first sign something was wrong. I should have stopped there, but I didn't. I craved more. For the first time in a long fucking time, I was mesmerized by something other than death.I’d finish an assignment and check her page. I’d return to the cabin and check again. I’m up in the middle of the night scrolling through her page. Sometimes she posted nothing. Those days irritated me more than they should have.I wanted to know what she’d eaten, where she’d gone, what she’d bought, what had made her laugh, what had pissed her off, and who she’d been with. I wanted to know her. Not the Elena Beaumont her followers knew. I wanted to know the real one. The woman beneath the camera. I wanted to know wha

“You know my name. I want to hear you say it.” “I don't. Who—who are you?” Tears of frustration streams down my cheeks. “Who the fuck are you?!” My breathing comes in shallow gasps as I finally come face to face with the truth. My brain warps as I search his eyes to place his face. My mind races, scrambling, desperately clawing at whatever fragile lie I had left to keep my sanity from snapping. Mask laughs. It sounds dark and utterly amused. He leans down, bringing his face inches from mine, letting me feel the heavy heat radiating from his skin. “Don’t do that, Elena,” he murmurs, his thumb trailing over the soft skin of my inner wrist where my blood is thrashing. “Don’t play stupid with me now. Not when you’ve been running this exact script in your head for weeks.” “I don't know what you’re talking about. You’re Mask. You’re—” “I’m the monster who keeps you in a cage. And I let you play your little game. I let you pretend there were two of us. One guy who pretends to be