Chapter 5: No Tears Left (But Vengeance Is Coming)

I couldn't sleep, not after what happened. The night was a blur of tears, fear, and anger, but mostly anger. The kind that burns deep in your gut, that turns your insides to molten lava, bubbling, waiting to explode. I cried until there were no tears left, and then I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I got here. How did I become this girl? The one who's beaten down, broken, and afraid.

But I can't be that girl. I won't. I'll get my vengeance. I'll find a way out of this hell, and I'll make them pay for what they did to me.

The sun barely rises, casting weak rays of light into my apartment, and I force myself out of bed. Every muscle in my body aches, but it's the emotional pain that cuts the deepest, the kind that's impossible to heal. I know I have to go to work, even though the thought of stepping foot in that building makes me want to scream. But I don't have a choice. Not yet.

As I get ready, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy, red from crying, but there's something else there too—something determined. I can't cry anymore. I won't let them break me.

I glance out the window, my heart sinking as I see them—Tate's men, lingering near my apartment. They've been snooping around or rather stationed in my neighborhood to constantly remind me that I'm under his control, that there's no escape. Yet. 

But I will find a way. I have to.

$$$—$$$

The day drags on, each hour more torturous than the last. I go through the motions and my work, barely holding it together, trying not to think about Ashwin, about what he did to me. But the memory is there, lurking in the back of my mind, like a dark cloud that refuses to lift.

I don't know who to turn to. Who can I tell? Who would believe me? Nox's warning echoes in my head—keep your head down, don't get involved. But I'm already involved, and now I need to figure out how to get out before it's too late.

By lunchtime, I'm a mess, barely able to keep it together. I need to talk to someone, to let it out before I explode. And there's only one person I can think of—Nox.

I find him in the break room, munching on a sandwich, completely oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. When he sees me, his grin fades, replaced by concern. "Cady? You look like hell. What's going on?"

I don't even try to smile. Instead, I sit down across from him, my hands shaking as I grip the edge of the table. "Nox, I need your help."

He puts down his sandwich, his expression serious. "What happened?"

I hesitate, the words sticking in my throat, but then they come tumbling out in a rush—everything that happened with Ashwin, the blackmail, the threats, the assault. By the time I finish, I'm trembling, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nox doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Cady, this is serious. I'm so sorry for what that dickhead did to you. You…you really need to get out of here. This is insane."

"I know," I whisper, my eyes filling with tears. "But I can't do it alone. Will you help me?"

He nods, his grip on my hand tightening. "Yeah, I'll help you. But you need to be careful. Tate's not someone you want to mess with. He's dangerous."

"I know that too," I say, my voice hardening. "But I can't stay here. Not after what they've done to me."

Nox squeezes my hand, his expression softening. "We'll figure something out. Just... don't do anything reckless, okay? We need a plan."

I nod, feeling a ray of hope shine on me for the first time in what feels like forever. But it's fragile, like a flickering candle in the dark. One wrong move, and it'll be snuffed out.

$$$—$$$

The rest of the day passes quickly. My mind has been racing with thoughts of escape, of getting out from under Tate's control. But even as I plot and plan, there's something else eating me from inside—something I don't want to acknowledge but can't ignore.

Tate Mercer. The man I hate, the man who's ruined my life. And yet... there are moments, brief as they are, when I see something in him that doesn't match the monster I know he is. A vulnerability, a crack in his cruel armor. It's confusing, disorienting, and I hate that it makes me question everything.

It happens again in the afternoon. I'm in the hallway, lost in thought, when I literally walk straight into him. My breath catches as I look up, meeting those cold, piercing eyes, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

Then I see it—his shirt is unbuttoned, just enough to reveal that scar, that ugly, jagged line that mars his otherwise perfect skin, his exterior. It's the second time I've seen it, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. He's human, after all. Broken, damaged, just like me.

For a moment, the world stops. It's just the two of us, standing in the hallway, both of us exposed in different ways. But then, just as quickly, the moment shatters.

"What are you staring at, Sparky?" he snaps harshly, like he's trying to cover up the vulnerability I just saw.

"Nothing," I mutter, dropping my gaze. The connection we just had evaporates as quickly as it appeared.

He steps back, buttoning his shirt with quick, precise movements, as if he's sealing himself back up, hiding behind that cold, impenetrable exterior. "Get back to work," he orders dismissively, as if I'm nothing more than a nuisance.

And just like that, I'm reminded of my place. I'm nothing to him. Just a tool, a toy he can use and discard at will. The spark of vulnerability I saw was just a fluke, a mistake. He's still the monster, and I'm still his prisoner.

I turn and as I walk away the sting of his words bite into my skin whilst the anger and frustration builds up inside me. But beneath it all, there's something else—something I don't want to admit.

Why do I care? Why does it matter to me that he's more than just a monster? I hate him. I should hate him. But there's a small part of me, deep down, that's not so sure anymore. And that terrifies me.

$$$—$$$

Tate's POV

I watch her walk away. Her shoulders are hunched, her head facing down, and something inside me twists, something I can't quite explain. I've been trying to ignore it, to shove it down, but it's getting harder every day. That janitor girl—Cadence—she's not like the others. She's... different. 

When I first saw her, I thought she was just another nobody, another toy I could use to amuse myself. But then she had the audacity to blackmail me. Me. The sheer nerve of it—it caught me off guard, intrigued me in a way nothing else has in years. 

She's poor, dirty, insignificant, but there's something about her, something that gets under my skin. It's infuriating. She's infuriating. But I can't stop thinking about her.

I tell myself it's because she's a challenge, a puzzle I need to solve. But deep down, I know that's not all it is. There's something else, something darker, something I don't want to acknowledge.

I don't care about her. I can't care about her. She's nothing, just a means to an end. But the more I watch her, the more I find myself drawn to her, obsessed with her. It's sick, twisted, and I know it. But I can't help it.

She's mine now, bound to me in ways she doesn't even understand. And I'll keep her close, not just because I need to control her, but because I can't stand the thought of her being out of my sight. Out of my reach.

I know it's wrong. I know I'm crossing lines, blurring the boundaries between control and something else, something deeper. But I can't stop. I won't stop. She's in my head now, and I'm not letting her go.

Even if it destroys us both.