A wicked smile broke through his apathetic façade at how truthful her statement was.

With a troubled look on her face, she stared at him. “Why do you find that amusing?”

“I don’t find it amusing; I find it sexy.” He pressed his index finger to his bottom lip as he imagined her slender, naked and sweaty body weighed down by heavy irons. “You, fettered and fucked, begging to come... Maybe we can try that next time.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed as she eyed the length of his body. “If you plan on shackling me, you’d better plan on giving up some good information, like who the hell made you into the sadist that you are.”

And just like that, her bold spirit resurfaced. God, how he missed that. He smiled inwardly, the gears in his head spinning wildly. No one had made him into what he was. He was fucking born that way. Had she forgotten the harsh lesson he taught her in the name of proving who he really was?

“You think that just because you’re being allowed to write your own rules, you get to dictate my actions?” he snarled at her as Mr. Black reappeared.

Her mouthed thinned in displeasure and her cheeks brightened under the bedroom lamp.

“This is still my game and you’re still under my roof. Don’t push me unless you want me to push back,” he warned.

Abruptly, she stood. “Likewise, Mr. Black, I’m not the same woman I was before,” she gathered her coat and shoes. “I get the distinct impression that you think I should thank you for that, since in your delusional state of mind you believe you’ve helped me…” she laughed sarcastically. “But you’ll never hear me say those words to you. Not ever.”

Victor sat on the edge of the bed watching her. As she prepared to leave, he wondered if he should halt her or just let things be until their next secret liaison – when things would get really interesting.

“Yes, this is your game and this is your house, but this is my body,” she glared at him as she reached for the doorknob. “I don’t care what you think or what you told me before. Just because you know how to pleasure me doesn’t mean you own me. This is my sanity and life that I’m fighting for. I won’t ever let you affect me the way you did. So go ahead, give it your best shot. Fuck with me in all the depraved ways you can think of because I plan on doing exactly the same. You want to break me just as badly as I want to break you, but unless you plan on giving me what I want, then you’ll never win this game.”

Her eyes flared wide, her long lashes framing her luminescent mahogany eyes. The almost imperceptible swaying and trembling of her body let Victor know that being back in his presence was clearly taking its toll on her. As it should. And this was only the beginning. How much longer would she pretend that she was unaffected when, clearly, she was? Undoubtedly, she was going to prove to be a worthy adversary again.

She hesitated as if waiting for him to lash out and lunge toward her and stop her, and for a split second, he considered it. Instead he held his ground and met her gaze unflinchingly even though his insides roiled with infuriation at her insolence and self-assuredness. When she finally stepped out of the room and he heard the front door close, he let out the breath he had been holding in.

Moving to the window, he watched her vehicle back out and disappear down the street as his irritation continued to simmer on medium-high heat. He stripped down with the intention of showering, but decided to go into the surveillance room that was now converted into an office. He dug out his journal and current case file with intentions to work on both. He had an upcoming meeting with Anthony; the first in nearly a year, and he needed to prepare himself mentally.

While chewing on a piece of nicotine gum, he penned his thoughts.

The game has begun. If it wasn’t for your disobedience and lack of acceptance as to your place at my feet, I could almost forget about my plans. I could simply allow your feminine smell to entice me. I could watch that luscious mouth of yours whisper your desires while I give them to you. It’s a fantasy that perhaps someday we can indulge in.

You speak about things you know nothing of. Maybe you’ve repeated them to yourself so often that you really believe them. But make no mistake, your body is mine and your sanity lies within my grip. Though you may try, those words you speak so ardently can’t hide your fear.

I remember what your sobs sound like and how those rebellious eyes of yours shine when you give me what I want and how much you love it. I’ll let you believe you won this round, but before this week ends, you’ll feel the effects of the fury I’m no longer able to contain. I promise , you’ll feel it. You’ll beg for reprieve and the fierce fucking you deserve. Maybe I’ll give you one or both. Perhaps I’ll give you neither and simply watch your tears flow until my cock hardens like I’ve dreamt of for far too long now. Mere dreams will no longer suffice nor satisfy me. The time has come to make my fantasy a reality and see you cry, Elsa.

***

Elsa drove away from 2500 East Grace Street with the image of Victor standing in his bedroom window, watching her. Just as she was a tattered version of her former self – so was he. For all his ferocity and austere words, she had managed to get away without so much as a reprimand or threat of penalty. Then again, that’s how he worked. He let her slip away, lulling her into a false sense of triumph.

As she slowed her speed near an icy patch, the full impact of what had just happened, hit her. She had done the very thing she swore she never would: allow Mr. Black back into her life and to touch her. Nate popped into her mind and a dull ache in her chest throbbed against her ribcage. He would never forgive her for what she had done.

Tears bordered her lashes and blurred the road ahead. Why the hell did she have to ask how he knew Victor? She could’ve gone on pretending that it was merely coincidence that he had shown up. Not wanting to face what was waiting for her at home, she stopped off at the Grace Street café only to find it closed early for the weather. Sorrow gripped her heart, knowing that this night would be spent dwelling on her betrayal to Nate, the heartrending look on his face when she last saw him, and replaying her scene with Mr. Black over and over.

5: Intermezzo

Victor had waited two days before contacting Elsa.

During that time, he had worked fervently on the case that was proving more difficult to solve than he or any of his fellow detectives had initially expected. Not that solving any murder case was easy, but the killer’s methods were sloppy; inexperienced… yet, somehow, he was eluding them time and time again. Like he was getting help.

The thought lingered in his mind. The perpetrator was emulating his nemesis and he knew Anthony well enough to know that if that man could have a hand in wreaking more havoc, he would.

Thus, the reason for their upcoming reunion.

He had faked some of his notes about Chapter Nine, seeing as he had nothing really to offer as collateral for the information he was going to try to get from him.

This face-to-face meeting would be different than the others and he knew it. It felt different. With his bitter resentment for his fucked up life pointed squarely at the sociopath in maximum security, they hadn’t spoken after he moved to California. Anthony had tried only twice to get in contact with him, but after being rebuffed, he seemed to lose interest. Anyway, Anthony was well aware that he would always be back. Eventually. Though not for the same reasons that Victor knew he would be back.