Her Vicious Art, His Dark Obsession

The frantic shouts from the hallway bled through the wooden door.

Inside the closet, the ragged sound of their breathing slowly began to settle.

Etienne pushed himself up on one forearm.

He looked down at Katelyn.

Her brow was deeply furrowed. A thin sheen of cold sweat coated her forehead. Her entire body was locked in a rigid, defensive posture, her muscles trembling slightly.

Etienne frowned. He shifted his weight.

His eyes dropped to the white linen towel beneath her.

In the faint sliver of light creeping under the door, he saw it. A stark, undeniable smear of dark red blood.

His pupils dilated.

The predatory haze vanished from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, heavy shock.

It was her first time.

"Fuck," Etienne cursed under his breath.

The aggressive, reckless energy drained out of him instantly.

He reached out, his movements suddenly agonizingly slow and careful.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face. His rough thumb gently stroked her pale cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, unfamiliar guilt. "I didn't know."

Katelyn flinched away from his touch as if he had burned her.

She hated that look in his eyes. She lived on pity from the outside world, and she despised it.

"Don't," she snapped, her voice cold and hollow.

She pulled the torn edges of her dress up, covering her chest.

"It was a transaction to keep you quiet. Don't look at me like I'm some fragile victim."

Etienne let out a harsh breath, half-amused, half-infuriated by her sharp edges.

The possessiveness in his chest flared hotter.

He pulled off his silk tie and handed it to her to clean herself up.

The radio static outside grew louder.

"Check the guest rooms! Sweep the second floor!" a guard barked.

Etienne stood up and quickly pulled his shirt back on.

He looked down at her, his jaw set.

"Stay exactly here," Etienne ordered. "I'm going to draw them off. Then I'm coming back to get you out of this madhouse."

Katelyn looked up at him.

She let her eyes widen slightly, softening her features into a mask of perfect, obedient trust.

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

Etienne stared at her for a long second, burning the image of her starlit eyes into his memory.

He turned and pushed the door open, slipping out into the hallway.

The second the door clicked shut, Katelyn's obedient expression evaporated.

Her eyes turned to ice.

She quickly fastened the torn zipper of her dress with a safety pin she found on the shelf.

She looked up.

Directly behind the metal shelving unit was a heavy, commercial-sized laundry chute door. She had mapped out the blueprints of this house years ago for this exact kind of emergency. She climbed onto the lower shelf, her muscles screaming in protest as she wedged her fingers under the heavy latch. She pulled it open and hoisted herself into the smooth, stainless-steel shaft.

Out in the hallway, Etienne grabbed a heavy porcelain vase from a side table.

He hurled it down the corridor.

It shattered against the marble floor with a deafening crash.

"Hey! Over here!" Etienne shouted, his voice echoing loudly.

Three security guards rounded the corner, their batons drawn.

Etienne flashed them an arrogant, mocking grin and took off running toward the grand staircase.

He led them on a wild goose chase through the first floor, moving with the effortless speed of a man used to violence.

While Etienne distracted the guards, Katelyn braced her back and feet against the walls of the chute, controlling her descent as she slid down in the stifling darkness. The friction burned through the cheap fabric of her torn dress, scraping her elbows raw, but she didn't stop. She reached the second-floor access panel that connected to the utility closet beside her en-suite bathroom. She forced the heavy panel open and tumbled out onto the tiled floor, her legs buckling slightly.

She stripped off the ruined gray dress and shoved it deep into the bottom of her laundry hamper.

She turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

She stood under the scalding spray, scrubbing her skin until it was bright red, trying to wash away the scent of his cologne, the memory of his heavy hands.

But her body still hummed with the phantom weight of him.

She stepped out, threw on a pair of oversized pajamas, and crawled into bed.

She pulled the burner phone from the mattress.

She opened an encrypted messaging app and sent a single text to her best friend, Eleanor:

NOW.

Outside, Etienne easily vaulted over the ten-foot perimeter wall, leaving the exhausted guards coughing in the dust.

He circled the property, using the tree line for cover, and slipped back through the side door.

He walked quickly down the hall and pulled open the door to the linen closet.

"Alright, let's g-"

He stopped.

The closet was empty.

Only his crumpled tie and the blood-stained towel remained on the floor.

Etienne stared at the empty space.

The muscles in his neck corded. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together.

She played him. She used him to get off, used him as a distraction, and threw him away. She didn't even tell him her name.

A dark, violent fury erupted in his chest.

He slammed his fist into the wooden doorframe. The wood splintered, shards biting into his knuckles.

"You little liar," he breathed, his eyes turning lethal.

Upstairs, Katelyn lay perfectly still under her duvet.

Heavy footsteps stopped outside her door.

The lock clicked.

Her uncle Arnett stormed into the room, his face twisted in absolute rage.

Katelyn closed her eyes, slowing her breathing, preparing for the storm.