My Stepfather’s Prey - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading My Stepfather’s Prey, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of My Stepfather’s Prey.
The inner door groaned open with ominous slowness, revealing Vincent Lowell's smirking face. His predatory gaze sent ice water trickling down my spine. Every muscle screamed to run, but my traitorous legs buckled, dropping me onto the couch like a marionette with cut strings.
Vincent advanced with the deliberate pace of a hunter savoring its prey. His calloused hands slithered under my shirt, violating without pretense. My entire body convulsed—terror turning my bones to jelly.
"P-please... stop!" The words tore from my throat raw and desperate.
His fingers dug deeper. "That begging voice of yours, Evelyn... it just makes me harder." The vulgar whisper curled around me like smoke.
Then the telltale click of his phone camera activating.
My breath hitched. "What—"
"Documenting our special moment." He angled the screen to capture every degrading inch as his free hand continued its assault. Shame scorched through me, warring with the drug-induced heat pooling low in my belly.
The realization struck like a physical blow—this was just the beginning. Vincent would keep pushing boundaries until there was nothing left of me to break.
Think. Think!
Swallowing bile, I forced my lips into a tremulous smile. "Uncle Vincent... remember what you promised Mother?" My voice sounded foreign—honeyed and pliant.
His grip slackened. "Oh?"
"That day you swore we'd want for nothing." I let my lashes flutter. "If you meant that..."
The lie unfolded between us like poisoned silk. Vincent's grin widened, revealing teeth. "Smart girl."
Liar. Monster. I'd rather chew glass than surrender.
Keeping my tone light, I continued, "Then let's do this properly. The antidote first? Let me clean up—wouldn't you prefer that?"
His eyes narrowed at "antidote," but I gestured to the adjoining bathroom. "It's right there. Where could I go?"
After a tense beat, he produced a vial. The liquid burned going down. As I stood, his hand shot out. "Phone. Now."
Bastard. Every escape route calculated.
The bathroom door locked behind me. I wedged the towel rack against it, my pulse hammering.
No running water. Vincent's suspicion ignited. "Evelyn?" The knob rattled. Then—BOOM. His shoe connected with the wood. "OPEN THIS DOOR OR I BLAST THAT VIDEO TO EVERY CONTACT YOU HAVE!"
My nails bit into my palms. I'd vanish. Change my name. Start over—
"Or maybe I'll send it to your mother first." His voice dropped to a venomous purr. "Tell her how her little slut came onto me. Let her see the truth."
The floor tilted beneath me. "She'd never—"
"Wouldn't she?" The words landed like a gut punch. Memories flooded back—Mother's distrust, the way she'd always taken Vincent's side. The video would be all the proof she'd need.
The doorframe splintered. For one dizzying second, the medicine cabinet's mirrored shards called to me.
Then—silence. Vincent's breathing ragged outside. My vision tunneled to black before I could decide.
Vincent advanced with the deliberate pace of a hunter savoring its prey. His calloused hands slithered under my shirt, violating without pretense. My entire body convulsed—terror turning my bones to jelly.
"P-please... stop!" The words tore from my throat raw and desperate.
His fingers dug deeper. "That begging voice of yours, Evelyn... it just makes me harder." The vulgar whisper curled around me like smoke.
Then the telltale click of his phone camera activating.
My breath hitched. "What—"
"Documenting our special moment." He angled the screen to capture every degrading inch as his free hand continued its assault. Shame scorched through me, warring with the drug-induced heat pooling low in my belly.
The realization struck like a physical blow—this was just the beginning. Vincent would keep pushing boundaries until there was nothing left of me to break.
Think. Think!
Swallowing bile, I forced my lips into a tremulous smile. "Uncle Vincent... remember what you promised Mother?" My voice sounded foreign—honeyed and pliant.
His grip slackened. "Oh?"
"That day you swore we'd want for nothing." I let my lashes flutter. "If you meant that..."
The lie unfolded between us like poisoned silk. Vincent's grin widened, revealing teeth. "Smart girl."
Liar. Monster. I'd rather chew glass than surrender.
Keeping my tone light, I continued, "Then let's do this properly. The antidote first? Let me clean up—wouldn't you prefer that?"
His eyes narrowed at "antidote," but I gestured to the adjoining bathroom. "It's right there. Where could I go?"
After a tense beat, he produced a vial. The liquid burned going down. As I stood, his hand shot out. "Phone. Now."
Bastard. Every escape route calculated.
The bathroom door locked behind me. I wedged the towel rack against it, my pulse hammering.
No running water. Vincent's suspicion ignited. "Evelyn?" The knob rattled. Then—BOOM. His shoe connected with the wood. "OPEN THIS DOOR OR I BLAST THAT VIDEO TO EVERY CONTACT YOU HAVE!"
My nails bit into my palms. I'd vanish. Change my name. Start over—
"Or maybe I'll send it to your mother first." His voice dropped to a venomous purr. "Tell her how her little slut came onto me. Let her see the truth."
The floor tilted beneath me. "She'd never—"
"Wouldn't she?" The words landed like a gut punch. Memories flooded back—Mother's distrust, the way she'd always taken Vincent's side. The video would be all the proof she'd need.
The doorframe splintered. For one dizzying second, the medicine cabinet's mirrored shards called to me.
Then—silence. Vincent's breathing ragged outside. My vision tunneled to black before I could decide.
End of My Stepfather’s Prey Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to My Stepfather’s Prey book page.