Chapter 37

Michael was following me.

It was all part of the plan, but it was terrifying.

Even knowing that Camden was watching over me, my heart was going a million miles a minute, so fast that I was worried I might be having a heart attack.

We’d tried this three times over the past week after Freya had seen him lurking near my dance studio—but Michael hadn’t taken the bait.

Tonight, apparently, he had.

We could have called the police—there was a warrant out for his arrest because of the bathroom attack. But Camden and I had both decided that it wasn’t good enough. It wouldn’t be enough to make up for all he’d done to me all these years.

He’d probably get a couple of months probation, or if he was sentenced to jail, he’d get early release.

Michael Carver had tortured me since the day I’d woken up in the hospital. He’d cut my skin—marked me with his blades and his teeth, he’d haunted my nights, he’d locked me in a cage, he’d stalked me through the streets, he’d forced me to take pictures for him and violated my body and my soul. He had blackmailed me and then strangled me for fun…

For all of that, the justice that I needed to sleep at night had to be done ourselves.

Like the other nights, I pretended I was walking home from dance by myself, Camden staying out of sight so Michael would think I was truly alone.

My breath was coming out in gasps as I walked along the sidewalk, trying to keep my steps controlled and not break out into the run that I wanted to.

I would catch glimpses of Michael every time I turned a corner—he wasn’t trying to hide from me at all. He was enjoying this right now, the predator hunting his little bunny.

I knew the plan, we’d gone over it again and again, but I still felt too much like prey as Michael stalked me through the streets.

Turning the corner, I went down a road I wouldn’t usually take, that no one usually took. I stopped in front of an alleyway, pretending to look at my phone.

Camden: I love you.

I read the text over and over, trying to prepare for what was coming next.

Michael’s footsteps sounded behind me, making me sick. I felt violated just having him within ten feet of me.

“Hello, Ana,” he purred as he walked up behind me, smug satisfaction coming off him in waves.

Because he thought he’d won.

“Michael,” I whispered, my bravado failing as I slowly turned to stare at him, just like it always did. I was shivering as we looked at each other, his watery blue eyes that starred in all of my nightmares taking in every inch of me.

I backed up into the alley, my hands in front of me like I was trying to ward him off.

His footsteps were slow and measured as he stalked me, past the piles of trash and decay that lined the sides of the building, his shiny shoes crunching dead leaves and debris as he walked. In my mind, this was where he belonged. There was no amount of nice clothes or expensive hair products that could hide what he was—the worst kind of trash.

A little scream popped out of my mouth when my back hit the chain metal fence at the end of the alley—unplanned of course—but I’d never been great at controlling my reaction to him.

Michael grinned, and it felt like the mask had fallen. Like his demonic inside had finally leaked out to his face.

“You should leave,” I told him, as usual hating the tremble in my voice.

“But little bunny, you would miss me too much,” he mocked.

“What’s the end game here?” I asked. “You grab me…and then what?”

“End game?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I wanted to reach out and rip off that eyebrow, mark that face up. “You know what the end game is, little bunny. You know what the end game was always going to be. Ever since I saw you walking home that first day.”

Michael held out his hand, like he expected me to take it and walk out of here with him.

I scoffed, straightening off the fence and holding my chin high, trying to hold onto all the bravery Camden had been instilling me with since I’d met him.

“Ana…I’ve got a special little cage set up for you. So you can be my bunny forever and ever. Won’t you like that? I’ve got a place on my own again. So I’m the only one who can hear your pretty little cries. I’ve prepared it just for you. You’re going to love it.” There was a sing-song lilt to his voice, and my eyes widened in horror as he pulled a long, serrated knife out of his coat. “Come here, little bunny.”

He was six feet away when, apparently, Camden decided that was close enough.

Camden appeared at the entrance of the alleyway behind Michael, a small cooler in his hand.

“Hello, Michael,” he taunted, and a little part of me unclenched as I watched fear seep into Michael’s eyes for the first time before he jerked toward him in surprise.

Camden

Michael blinked several times, staring at the cooler as he recovered from the shock of seeing me.

“You planned this,” he growled, like we were the ones in the wrong here.

“Yeah, well obviously,” I said with a grin that hopefully Anastasia would forget, because I was sure it was incredibly sadistic.

“What’s your plan then, Hero?” he sneered, showing that he’d been looking into me as well. “Did you bring me lunch?” Michael gestured at the cooler.

I chuckled before I used my free hand to pull out the gun from inside my jacket, aiming it at his chest.

His eyes flashed, a chuckle escaping his lips. “This is hilarious,” he taunted Anastasia who was still plastered against the fence, her attention rapt on the gun in my hand.

Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger, and Michael flinched, his mouth dropping as the gun released a stream of water that soaked his shirt and the front of his pants. I squirted some on his face for good measure.

“What the hell?” he muttered, as he looked down at himself, confusion and shock contorting his features, his hands shaking as he touched the wet stain.

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “Oops, I must’ve grabbed the wrong gun,” I said lightly.

I’d actually struck him dumb. That seemed like an accomplishment for how much the guy liked to talk.

“I actually meant to do this.” Opening the cooler, I reached in with a gloved hand and started throwing chunks of meat at Michael as I stalked closer to him. He was so surprised by the meat suddenly hitting his chest, that he didn’t really react to my movements until I was just a few feet away. Ana slowly inched to the side—knowing what was going to happen next.

I lunged forward and punched him in the face, enjoying the way he crumbled to the ground. For good measure, I dumped the entire contents of the cooler over his head, the bloody mixture coating his face and hair like a horror movie.

“Motherfucker,” he growled, fumbling with his knife, the blade now streaked with blood.

“Forgot one more thing,” I said, holding up a hand as Anastasia tossed me the wire cutters she’d been hiding. Ripping off the glove, I threw it at Michael, and snapped the wire that had been holding up part of the fence. I whistled, and a few seconds later, Fluffy and Midas bounded into the alley through the hole. Their usual friendly demeanor had vanished, replaced by a fierce hunger as they zeroed in on Michael.

Geraldine had wanted to be part of the plan when I’d asked to borrow the dogs again—after winking at me and telling me she’d keep my first outing with the dogs “on the down low.”

She’d had them in their kennels on the other side of the fence.

Michael’s bravado crumbled in an instant. “What the⁠—”

Before he could react, the dogs were on him. Midas latched onto his arm, growling and shaking his head. Fluffy, the giant poodle, went for his legs, his powerful jaws clamping down hard. Michael screamed, a high-pitched, panicked sound that echoed throughout the alley, and his knife fell to the ground as he tried to scramble away from the animals.

“Get them off me! Get them off!” he shrieked, trying to shake the dogs off, but they held firm, biting chunks off as they tried to get to the steak blood.

Fluffy let go of his arm, and a second later, Michael’s high-pitched screams filled the air as Fluffy bit into his dick. Michael’s screams turned into sobs under the relentless attack.

He had always been the predator, but now, he was nothing more than prey.

For good measure, Darcy, Geraldine’s Saint Bernard, came bounding out through the fence too—-it hadn’t surprised me that Geraldine had even more feral, meat-addicted dogs as pets. Darcy lunged forward, her jaws outstretched, and a second later, Michael’s nose had disappeared.

I watched, a grim satisfaction settling over me as I watched the carnage.

Anastasia’s hand slid into mine. She was pale and shaking, her fear of the dogs very present, but her eyes were glimmering as she watched the nightmare that had haunted her for so long, get torn to shreds.

“That’s probably enough,” she murmured when he passed out from blood loss. I was pretty sure the lump on the ground was part of his tongue. It would seem the dogs had gotten a little aggressive.

‘Probably,’ I said after Midas took another bite out of Michael’s dick.

Geraldine appeared in the entrance then, carrying a jar of peanut butter. She stared at Michael’s limp body on the dirty ground, a small smile on her face…which was a little scary. “What good little puppies,” she cooed. “Let’s go take a bath, darlings.” She leaned over and whistled sharply, holding out the jar, and the dogs immediately leapt from Michael to get their treat.

Blood and peanut butter…quite the diet.

“Got the cages,” Ari huffed as he and Lincoln appeared behind Geraldine, lugging three enormous crates.

“You’re a good boy,” Geraldine told Ari, patting his face before she lured the dogs into the crates with the peanut butter.

Ari was glowing, literally preening under her praise.

“A little help, Lancaster,” Lincoln grunted as he lifted one of the huge crates. Midas whined, and Lincoln eyed him carefully, like he was going to escape from the cage and decide to attack.

Anastasia was still frozen, staring at Michael and his blood pooling on the ground.

Her lips twitched, and then she started to giggle. At first, it was soft, almost a whisper of laughter, but it quickly grew louder, hysterical, her eyes wild and unfocused. The giggles turned into sobs, wracking her body with the force of her emotions. She began to collapse, and I grabbed her, pulling her into my arms. I didn’t want the dirt and grime of this alley to even touch my baby girl.

“Is it really over, Camden?” she choked out between sobs. “Or is this just a dream? I need to know he can’t come after me anymore.”

I held her tightly, feeling her tears soak through my shirt. “It’s over, baby girl,” I whispered, my voice as steady and reassuring as I could make it. “He won’t hurt you anymore.”

Her sobs quieted a bit, but she clung to me still. I stroked her hair, whispering soothing words, trying to anchor her in the present, away from the horrors of the past.

“My guy’s coming for cleanup.” Lincoln locked eyes with me, giving me a chin nod that was almost as good as a “good boy” coming from him. “He’ll take care of any cameras, and he’ll make sure some junkyard dogs are found with some of his scraps and blood,” he said, gesturing toward Michael. “Fluffy and Midas will be blame-free,” he grinned. “He also wiped that asshole’s computer and phone—he hadn’t made any other copies of the pictures. They’re all gone.”

Anastasia reared her head back and gasped. “Really?” she whispered, her eyes filling with more tears. My poor baby girl. Those pictures had been haunting her for years—of course I was going to make sure they were destroyed.

She snuggled back into me, whispering a soft, “thank you.”

I gave Lincoln a thumbs up and he smirked.

I no longer wanted to know how Daniels had so many guys…or what he needed them for.

But I was pretty sure that I was now in the circle of trust.

“Do you think Michael will say anything?” Anastasia whispered to me as Ari, Lincoln, and Geraldine disappeared around the corner…

I glanced over at Michael’s body disinterestedly. “I think he’s missing most of his tongue…and fingers. So no.”

She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face searching mine for any sign of doubt. “Are you sure? What if he finds a way?”

I cupped her face in my hands, looking directly into her eyes. “He won’t. He can’t. Trust me, Anastasia, it’s over.”

She nodded slowly, the tension in her body starting to ease. I could see the relief in her eyes, but also the exhaustion.

“Come on,” I said softly, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She was shaking for the entire drive back to the penthouse—adrenaline and residual fear still raging inside her.

Once in our place, I carried Anastasia into the bathroom. With one hand, I started a warm bath, the steam filling the room. Then I set her down and helped her undress, my movements gentle and careful. She slipped into the water, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as the warmth enveloped her.

I quickly stripped and slid in behind her, tucking her against me as she laid her head back against my shoulder. I traced her features obsessively as her eyes fluttered closed

“Thank you, Camden. You’re like my own personal superhero,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

We stayed like that until the water turned cool, the silence between us filled with a newfound peace. When we finally climbed out, I wrapped her in a towel and led her to the bedroom, tucking her into the soft, warm sheets.

Laying down beside her, I pulled her close. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing against mine. As she drifted off to sleep, I stared at the ceiling, the events of the night replaying in my mind.

Michael was out of the picture, and for the first time, it felt like Anastasia could truly heal.