It’s a high price to pay for all that.
And fuck, you were expensive, Rebecca. I know first-hand.
But you were worth every single penny.
And now it’s your turn to pay.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘Mark?’ The word slips from Rebecca’s mouth, almost like a low groan of pain escaping from somewhere deep down inside of her.
And there’s a flash of confusion that shines from her eyes, her expression a picture of horror.
She’s scared. Genuinely scared.
He registers the shock on her face and it pleases him immensely, enjoying the real fear that lingers there, her thoughts almost transparent, as if he can see the clogs twisting and turning inside her head. So much so he can’t help but laugh as he enters the room and stands right in front of her. So she can see him properly. So she can get a good look at what she did to him.
‘I probably look a bit different to when you last saw me, huh, Alex? Hanging from a burning car wasn’t my best look,’ Mark quips. ‘Oh sorry! Should I say Rebecca? Because that’s who you’re pretending to be these days, isn’t it? Suits you. It sounds weak and pathetic.’
He smiles, but there’s no humour to his words, and she remembers the low throaty chuckle from all those years ago. The sound makes the hairs on her arms stand on end.
‘I’ve aged. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? More so than I should have in just a few short years. Shit, death does that to a person.’ He laughs again. ‘Do I look as if I’ve just been dug up?!’
His face contorts into a twisted smirk, making him look almost unrecognisable from the man he’d once been. His skin is gaunt and sallow and puckered with deep jagged ridges, blistered and scarred from the burns he’d suffered.
The burns she’d caused.
‘You don’t look so hot yourself,’ he says with a shrug, used to the constant stares and questioning looks. People whispering about him, too scared to ask him what had happened to his face.
‘You did this,’ he spat, grabbing Alex’s face and forcing her to look now.
‘You have no right to look away. Look at me. Look at what you did to me. Little Miss Fucking Perfect. Living like Lady of the Fucking Manor in this fancy life that doesn’t belong to you.’ Releasing his grip, he grins as she cowers at his touch. ‘You’ve got fat, Alex. You’ve let yourself go. From the kid, no doubt. Is it any wonder your husband’s fucking everything that moves? She’s nice though, this latest one of his. Younger. Prettier. Tighter. I can see the appeal.’ He’s enjoying letting her know that he knows everything about her new life, that he knows all of her secrets, his well-aimed words stinging her, just as intended.
She flinches.
He laughs. She’s always been so incredibly insecure.
She can’t pretend that trait away.
Running his hand across her face, he grabs her chin tightly in his hand as he forces her to look at him once more. To really see him and all the damage she did.
There’s nothing she can hide from him now.
And because of that, he’s more than capable of tormenting her, and hitting her where it hurts the most. The look on his face tells her that this is only the warmup.
Rebecca feels sick with fear as she wonders what he’s planning on doing to her.
‘You look surprised to see me, Alex? As if I’m the last person on earth you ever expected to see again. Of course, you are! Because you left me for dead. Remember? When you crawled from the mangled wreckage of the car. You left us both for dead.’
The fear in her eyes is genuine, because she knows what he must be capable of, if he’s gone to these lengths to find her.
And she knows that she deserves to be punished for what she did.
Because she’s punished herself every day since too.
Her eyes flicker towards the front door and she wonders if she can break free from her restraints somehow and outrun him. If she can just get the door open before he reaches her.
Probably not.
She looks up at the security camera that faces the front door.
She might be able make it to where the camera covers, someone might see her. Jamie might be watching.
‘I thought I’d never be able to find you,’ he says now, matter of factly. ‘Two years of searching, and here we both are. Finally reunited. It’s funny, because for a while, I thought I’d lost you forever. But then I realised I was searching for a woman who no longer exists. Because you’d have to change your name. You’d have to pretend to be someone you’re not. You’d have to go into hiding. Like the coward you are. I’d ask you how you’ve been, but…’ Sarcastic now, he lifts his arms into the air, opening his chest wide and spinning around, his huge frame making him look clunky and awkward as he scans the room, taking in all the plush, expensive surroundings.
‘Nothing changes, huh? You always had a knack of being able to land right on your feet, didn’t you, Alex. Always looking out for number one.’ He stares at her, aware that he’s caught her completely off guard. That for once there’s no bravado. She’s not acting. She’s not quick enough nor capable of hiding how scared she is right now. Her apprehension radiates from out of her.
Mark purses his lips together, his face twisted with hate, no longer trying to contain his loathing of her.
‘It’s all so perfect—’ he pauses before adding, ‘—ly orchestrated. Isn’t it, Alex? Your life here. But then you always did know how to spin a fucking lie. And looks aren’t everything they seem. You taught me that too.’
He was trying to swallow down the rage that was building inside him as he took in the expensive interior. All so beautifully decorated and immaculate.
The bitch and her perfect fucking life.
How dare she live here like this?
He stands up, composing himself for a few moments as he runs his hand along the long oak dresser that fills the wall beside the sofa. The same sofa that Alex is lying on, hands and feet bound tightly.
He shakes his head, as if to clear it. He didn’t think it would be like this, now that he’d found her, now that he was here.
That familiar feeling of the walls closing in on him. Of everything feeling so dark, so abysmal.
He thought he’d feel better somehow.
But he felt much, much worse.
Focus. Do what you came here to do.
Coming back to the present, he slid his fingers over the numerous framed photographs displayed on the dresser. Photos of Rebecca and Jamie, laughing, looking deeply in love. Of Ella when she was born.
He pauses, grasping the photograph of Ella tightly in his hand. The thick solid silver frame. A newborn baby, wrapped in a soft cotton blanket just hours after her birth. Her face still red, and her eyes screwed shut.
His eyes linger on the tiny infant for a few moments, before he turns his attention back to her.
‘I knew you’d have to start again, from scratch, as someone new. That you’d go into hiding. Anything so you didn’t get caught for what you did.’
He laughs then. This time for real. His eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Typical, eh? You never were any good at just blending into the background, were you, Alex? And I was right. Here you are, living a life of fucking luxury,’ he sneered, his eyes slowly sweeping over her body, before meeting her eyes again.
‘It took time to find you, longer than I’d hoped, but let’s face it, I had all the time in the world, Alex. Didn’t I? Nothing better to do. Not now. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that you were out there somewhere. That you thought you’d managed to get away with it. That’s what fuelled my search for you. The police might have given up looking for you, but I didn’t.’