Chapter 122
Chapter 122
VENUS
62
There’s a special kind of madness that grows in captivity. It doesn’t happen all at once. It builds. Quietly and patiently. Like moss creeping up a stone wall, covering everything until you can’t remember what the bare surface even looked like.
That’s what I was now. Covered in it. Wrapped tight in Gerald’s madness, in the stink of stale fear and the thick silence of this cabin that had become my purgatory. Every day was the same. Every breath felt borrowed.
But this day-this particular day—I felt it in my gut. Something had shifted. The air smelled different. Charged.
And shifts? Shifts meant opportunity.
Gerald had gone out early that morning. Same as every day, his strange little ritual that took him beyond the treeline where I couldn’t see him. I didn’t know what he did out there, and honestly, I didn’t care. It was the only window of time I had to remember what my own heartbeat sounded like without his eyes on me.
For the last three days, I’d been working on the boarded window again, silent and desperate. I’d bled for it, my fingertips raw and cut, but the last nail came free yesterday. I’d pried the board loose and fixed it back so it would look untouched. Today was supposed to be my day.
Except fate likes to toy with me.
Gerald came back before noon. His steps dragged this time, slower, heavier. When the door opened, he looked… different.
Exhausted.
Sweat clung to his temples, his shirt rumpled, his eyes glazed like he hadn’t slept in days. He gave me a distracted smile that didn’t reach anything real and muttered something about “just needing a minute” before collapsing onto the couch.
And then… he passed out.
Just like that.
For a long moment, I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. I sat on the edge of the bed, muscles locked, staring at him like he might leap up and strangle me if I even breathed too loud.
But minutes passed. His breathing evened out, slow, deep, heavy.
My body acted before my brain caught up.
I slid off the bed, my bare feet soundless on the wooden floor. My eyes darted toward his bagthe one he never let out of his sight. The one I knew held his phone. My hands trembled as I reached for it, every nerve
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Chapter 122
ending screaming that this was suicide if he woke up.
The zipper felt like thunder in the silence.
I froze. Waited. Watched his chest rise and fall.
Nothing.
I dug my hand inside and closed it around cool metal. A phone.
My throat tightened as I pulled it out, pressing the button to wake the screen. There it was. His phone. His connection to the outside world. My lifeline.
Except the signal bar in the top corner was dead. No service.
For a moment, hopelessness slammed into me so hard I almost sank to the floor. But no. Not this time. I’d come too far to let that break me. If there was no network here, there had to be some further out. I just needed to get away from the cabin.
I glanced at Gerald again. He was dead asleep, arm draped over his face.
This was my shot. My only shot.
62
I shoved the phone into my pocket, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt, and padded to the window I’d been working on for days. My fingers flew, pulling the loosened board away without a sound. The cool air of freedom kissed my face like a promise.
One leg out. Then the other.
I landed softly on the damp earth outside, crouching low, listening for movement. Nothing. Just birds and the wind whispering through the trees.
I ran.
My breath came sharp, desperate. My legs were weak from weeks of being confined, but fear gave me wings. I pushed through low branches, my hair snagging, my skin stinging from scratches I didn’t stop to feel.
Ten steps. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred.
I finally skidded to a stop, panting, and pulled the phone from my pocket. Still no bars. I moved further. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, but I didn’t stop until, finally-finally-one lonely bar flickered on the
screen.
Shaking, I opened the dial pad and called the only number that mattered.
Aaron.
The phone rang the first time. The signal bar seized so I tried for the second time.
My breath hitched with every pulse of the dial tone until it cut off and I heard his voice.
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Chapter 122
“Hello p>
A 62.
“Aaron?” My voice cracked on his name. A sob tore out of me before I could stop it, weak and broken. “Aaron, oh my God p>
“Venus?” His voice exploded with life, frantic and raw, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks and finally let it out. “Oh my God, Venus? Where are you? Who are you with? Talk to me, baby. Please, talk to me p>
“I don’t know,” I cried, words tumbling out in jagged pieces. “I don’t know where I am-Gerald, he-he took me, he p>
And then the world ripped out from under me.
The phone was yanked from my hand, so fast I barely registered the motion. I spun around, my heart lurching into
my throat.
Gerald.
He stood there, panting, fury rolling off him in waves so thick I could feel it scorch my skin. His eyes were wild, feral, his lips peeled back like a cornered animal.
He held the phone in one hand, trembling not from fear, but from barely restrained rage.
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Me frozen in terror, him vibrating with betrayal.
And I knew.
This wasn’t going to end with words this time.
And that’s where the world tilted on its axis. Because in that split second before Gerald opened his mouth, before his fury turned into whatever came next, one thought screamed in my skull louder than my own fear:
Aaron heard me.
He knew I was alive.
And if he knew, nothing-not Gerald, not these woods, not hell itself-would stop him from coming for me.
That had to be enough to keep me standing when everything else wanted to collapse.
Because this? This was far from over.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.