His Private Hell - Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Eella didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke with the taste of him still on her lips.
The sheets were tangled between her thighs, soaked with sweat and something filthier. The sun hadn’t dared to rise yet, but she was already wide awake, already aching. The only evidence of Garrison’s presence was the faint imprint on the other side of the bed, cool to the touch.
He’d left again. Quiet as a ghost. Or maybe a monster who didn’t dare stay long enough to watch what he’d done settle into the walls.
She sat up, blinking, and something on the floor caught her eye.
A folder. Closed. Black. No label. But it hadn’t been there before.
With her heart hammering in her throat, she reached for it and flipped it open.
Inside was a photo.
And not just any photo.
It was Darcie.
Bruised. Bloodied. Tied to a chair in a stark white room. Her eyes were swollen shut, and her lip was split clean through the center.
The next photo was worse.
She was screaming.
There was no sound, of course. But the image of her mouth torn open, her body straining against restraints, her fingernails broken from trying to claw her way out—it shattered something in Eella.
She dropped the folder, bile rising to her throat, and scrambled off the bed, her hands shaking.
What the hell was this?
Why had Garrison left it?
No. A better question—
Why did it have a security stamp from Ally’s Inc. on the corner?
She didn’t shower. Didn’t change. Just pulled on her jeans from the night before, grabbed her phone, and bolted out the door.
She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to move. Had to think. Had to breathe.
But the air felt like glass. Every inhale cut deeper.
She ended up in front of her building two hours later, just as the sun cracked the edge of the skyline. Her hands still shook as she thumbed through her phone, debating whether to call Garrison or throw the thing into traffic.
Instead, it buzzed.
Unknown Number: “You’ve seen it. We need to talk. Don’t go to the office.”
Her blood went cold.
Before she could respond, a car pulled up. Black. Tinted windows. No license plate.
She took a step back, panic crawling up her spine.
But the back window rolled down—and Ronnie leaned out.
“Get in, Eella. Now.”
⸻
The inside of the car smelled like danger and leather and cigarettes that hadn’t been smoked yet.
Ronnie didn’t speak until they were five blocks away, taking a sharp turn onto an unfamiliar side street.
“Where the fuck did you get the folder?”
“He left it on my floor,” Eella said, her voice cracking.
“Bullshit. Garrison doesn’t leave evidence. Not unless he’s trying to burn something down.”
Her pulse jackknifed. “That’s not true. He—he’s not—”
“Not what?” Ronnie turned, her brown eyes flashing like warning lights. “Not capable of putting a woman in a cage on the 33rd floor?”
Eella flinched.
“Don’t play dumb. You think those floors are just unused? You think the rumors about Darcie were gossip?” Ronnie let out a dry, humorless laugh. “They weren’t. She went looking for answers. And she found them. Or maybe… they found her.”
Eella shook her head, the folder flashing again in her mind.
“She’s alive,” she whispered. “That means—”
“That means she’s locked in his hell. Just like you will be.”
Eella turned sharply. “What does that mean?”
Ronnie pulled the car to a stop and looked at her with something like pity. “You’ve been inside his apartment. Inside his head. You think that comes without a price?”
Her throat tightened.
Ronnie leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That man doesn’t do love. He does ownership. Devotion. Destruction. He’ll break you, Eella. And when you’re shattered into exactly the shape he likes—he’ll keep you there. Forever.”
The words hung between them like a curse.
Then Ronnie leaned back and sighed. “But you’re not listening. You’ve already fallen.”
Eella didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.
Her skin still bore the imprint of his hands. Her thighs still ached from the way he’d taken her the night before—like she was his to use, to worship, to ruin.
And she had let him.
No.
She had begged for it.
⸻
Garrison watched the surveillance feed in silence.
Eella, wrapped in nothing but his shirt, looking at the folder. The exact moment her expression crumpled, her hand flying to her mouth.
She was supposed to run to him.
Not away.
He reached for the glass beside him, but it was empty. Shattered, actually. He had forgotten he’d thrown it.
“I told you she wouldn’t stay quiet,” a voice drawled from the corner.
Garrison didn’t look at the man behind him. “And yet, here we are.”
Ollie stepped forward, licking his bottom lip like this was all a game.
“She’s got fire, I’ll give her that. But you’re losing control. That’s not like you, Garrison.”
“I’m not losing anything,” he said coldly.
“You sure?” Ollie tilted his head. “Because Darcie was a loose end. And now she’s your ghost. And Eella? She’s gonna light the match that burns it all down.”
Garrison turned then, his eyes flat and dangerous.
“She’s mine,” he said. “I’ll decide how far she falls.”
Ollie’s grin widened. “That’s what you said about Darcie too. Right before she found the door you forgot to lock.”
⸻
That night, Eella found herself standing outside Ally’s Inc., the building she’d once thought of as her sanctuary.
Now it loomed like a monolith of secrets.
She tapped her card on the scanner.
Red.
Her access had been revoked.
But she was done playing fair.
She slipped around to the loading dock, ducked into the service stairwell, and made her way up.
Floor by floor. No stopping.
When she reached the 33rd floor, her heart was trying to claw out of her chest.
The door was unmarked.
She reached for the handle.
Locked.
Of course.
But something about the edge of the frame caught her eye—worn, as if it had been jimmied open before.
Darcie.
Eella took out the paperclip she always kept in her bag—thank you, college survival hacks—and started picking.
Ten seconds in, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Don’t move.”
Garrison’s voice.
Low. Quiet. But soaked in violence.
She froze.
“I didn’t tell you to come here,” he said.
“I had to.”
“No. You didn’t.” His footsteps moved closer. “You chose to disobey me.”
“I chose to find the truth.”
“Same thing.” His breath ghosted the back of her neck. “You know what happens to women who open this door?”
“Darcie did.”
He stilled.
And she turned.
“I saw her, Garrison. I saw what she looked like. What the hell happened to her?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me!” she cried. “Or I swear I’ll scream so loud every floor hears me.”
His eyes narrowed.
And then he laughed.
Dark. Bitter. Broken.
“She tried to leave,” he said simply.
“That’s not an answer.”
“She found things she wasn’t supposed to. Things that didn’t belong to her. And when she tried to run, I locked her down.” His mouth twitched. “Do you know what happens to people who betray me, Eella?”
Her knees trembled.
“They don’t die.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “They live. In the dark. In silence. With every memory of what we shared eating them alive.”
She swallowed.
Hard.
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispered.
He stepped forward. “Wouldn’t I?”
“I’m not Darcie.”
“No.” His fingers tangled in her hair. “You’re worse.”
Then he kissed her.
Not sweet. Not tender.
Punishment. Possession.
And when he pressed her against the wall, ripped open her shirt, and dragged his tongue down the length of her chest, she moaned like a sinner begging for absolution.
“I should put you in that room,” he whispered against her skin.
“I’d burn the whole building down,” she shot back.
He smiled. Dark and dangerous.
And that’s when the explosion hit.
The building rocked.
The lights flickered.
Screams echoed from above.
Garrison broke away, yanking her behind him.
“Stay here.”
“Like hell—”
He turned, his eyes wild. “Now!”
Then he was gone.
And Eella was left alone outside the door to hell, with her heart pounding and the scent of smoke curling up through the vents.
Darcie’s voice echoed in her mind.
Don’t fall in love with the monster.
But it was too late.
She already had.