by Hayley Smyth
The men called out for me, but I ignored them.
I was done sitting around and waiting.
I was done being the damsel in distress.
My lungs were screaming at me when I reached the top of the stairs, and yet I didn’t stop. I saw the door Benny had escorted me through yesterday and breathed a quick sigh of relief to see a door farther along the hallway. I’d never been back here before, and so I could only hope, as I fled towards it, that it would lead me somewhere I could access the roof.
The music pulsed, the vibrations of the thumping bass guitar sent shock waves through my bare feet and up my calf muscles with each step I took. Pressing my ear to the unknown door, I held my breath so I could hear if there was anyone on the other side. After several beats of silence, I hurried through the doors and shut them behind me. To my left was a dead end, I’d walked into a storage room of some kind, sheets thrown over cabinets, old and rotten mop heads and broken buckets lay discarded on the floor, gardening tools were hung on the walls, the rust so thick the orange was bright and the smell of copper strong.
On the right-hand side was a door, and it was my only option.
The room I found myself in took my breath away. How had I never seen this? Thirteen years and there were still unexplored parts of this prison.
The room was long yet relatively narrow. On either side were two tables, the kind a decorator may have, and they were both lined with pretty linen clothes. Enormous windows allowed the storm to be seen more clearly. The sky was an inky navy color, and the rain battered against the glass, lightning cracked, and thunder boomed; it was deafening.
On top of the tables were an assortment of old ornaments, porcelain dolls of all kinds, jewelry boxes, those ugly dog statues, to name just a few. I walked between the tables, running my finger along the soft material, watching as dust particles swayed gently from side to side as I disturbed it. The walls were covered in fine art, portraits of important-looking men, one of whom I recognized as a relative of Vlad’s from a picture he showed me many years ago. His face was familiar, and I stepped closer to inspect it. The frame was thick, dark wood with golden flowers at each corner. The man himself was very handsome, nothing like Vladimir. He had the dark hair and dark eyes, but his face was narrow, a prominent Cupid’s bow sitting above full lips. Army medals adorned the breast of his jacket.
I still had no idea how far away I was from the music room—the room with the window that covered the ceiling and trailed down the wall. The window I’d be able to climb through.
I ran again, my eyes set on the door at the far end when a loud pop exploded next to me, and china went flying.
“Ella!” Came his voice.
I froze. Unarmed and outmatched as far as strength went - I’d have to use my brains for this.
My face remained impassive as I turned despite the urgency I felt in my bones, I didn’t have time for this, and there he was. The man I’d been forced to call my husband for so many years. The man who almost had me believing that I was truly worth nothing. Seeing his face brought back memories of the night I was taken, the conditioning I went through, the blood, the rapes, every single trauma I’d experienced and instead of it crippling me, I found myself standing straighter, head held high, and my eyes looked into this monster’s eyes with a defiance I never knew I could muster.
“Aren’t you tired of this, Vladimir?” I sighed, eyes trained on the gun in his right hand.
The distance between us was probably big enough for me to run, but could I outrun a bullet?
He laughed, tucking the weapon back into his holster. “How could I tire of watching you, time after time, try to defy me?”
We were both unmoving, a showdown between beaten mouse and reigning master. He wore his ‘best suit,’ the white shirt was so tight his stomach and chest hair was visible, slacks that hung a little too high revealing fat ankles, and that smile. That smile that, up until now, used to paralyze me, put the fear of Christ into me and have me bowing to his every whim, suddenly no longer held that power.
“You’ve got what you’ve always wanted; just let me go.”
“Your parents owed me, Ella, and they still fucking owe me.” He took two steps closer. “Let you go? Because you want to go running into the arms of a Murdoch?”
I stepped back. “I’ve already run into his arms, Vlad, and you know what?”
He stopped dead, shocked at my tone.
“He is more of a man then you could ever hope to be.”
“Don’t test me, Ella.” His lips turned upwards, and he closed the gap some more between us. He cracked his neck from side to side, moving just an inch, every few seconds. The lightning lit up the entire room, a pure white light flashed across his face, and the thunder grew closer.
And my baby girl was out in it.
“So, what?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “You’ve got Amy, you’ve got the child you always wanted, have I not served my purpose?” I looked behind me to the floor, mindful of the broken china scattered across the floor. “My parents owed you - well, I’m sorry, Vladimir, but that is no longer my problem.” I took a stoic breath before screaming, “thirteen years!”
The storm raged, as did Vladimir’s face, he took a few more steps, and we were almost nose to nose. Once again, I could see the spidery veins that crawled across his cheeks, the dark nose hair poking out from each nostril, his evil lips; he was repulsive. No amount of expensive aftershave or hair oil could change the fact that the devil living inside him had destroyed what was once a pretty face.
He grabbed my wrist and yanked my body to him, holding me flush against his chest. With a sneer on his lips, he said, “if it weren’t for me, Ella, you would have been dead a long time ago. Your parents never wanted you. I saved you, you ungrateful bitch.”
“Saved me?” I said, moving my hand across his belly, fingers brushing against the gun at his side. “You took me from one hell and put me in another! You stole my baby from me, and you raped me over and over again.” I took a breath. Our eyes fixed on one another. “Tell me, how does that make you any better than my parents? It makes you worse, doesn’t it?”
Predictably, he raised his palm and struck me across the face, sending me to the floor in a heap. What he didn’t realize, however, was that I now held his gun.
I remained on the floor, with my back to him, hands fumbling with the safety. I tried to keep my body as still as possible as Vladimir loomed above me; I quickly hid the gun beneath the gray material I wore.
“You wanna become a Murdoch, huh? Is that it?”
Looking up at him, I twisted at the hip and shook my head. “No, Vladimir, I don’t want to become someone else’s property. I want to become Ella, and with Jax, that’s who I’ll be.”
He laughed. “Oh, dear sweet wife. You are a dumb cunt.”
Moving quickly, I got to my feet and stumbled backward, all the while raising the gun at the devil before me. “I may be a cunt, sweet husband, but I sure as hell ain’t dumb.”
His eyes were black holes, and his eyebrows raised to the heaven’s when he realized that I was, in fact, finally one step ahead of him.
My hands were shaking; I’d never held a gun before.
“Pull the trigger, Ella, and that little bitch won’t live to see tomorrow, I promise you that.” He stood still, not wholly trusting my mental stability.
Good.
“Nice try, Vladimir, but that’s something else you don’t know - I know where my daughter is, and you are not stopping me from getting to her.”
He paused for a beat, and then his foot lifted off the ground, his anger wanting him to do what he usually did with me. I moved the gun to the left and shot, the bullet cracked through a grandfather clock at the far end of the room. “I will fucking kill you, Vladimir,” I aimed the gun at his face once more. “I swear to God, if you come any closer to me, I will shoot.”
“You do that, and you’ll be dead before your feet touch the grounds outside, Ella. However you wanna pl
ay this, you’re not getting away from me, not with a beating heart at least.”
He was right, of course, you couldn’t shoot the Kingpin and have no one notice; I’m surprised he came alone.
“Put the gun down, huh? He’s gotten into your head, no doubt promised you the earth, but he’s a Murdoch! You belong here. With me.”
Time was wasting. I needed to end this, but how? If I ran, he’d chase me. If I killed him, I’d be dead as soon as I stepped outside the door.
And as another crack of lightning shot overhead, an idea came to me.
I gripped the gun between both hands and aimed as best as I could without any training. Not as his face, no, at his kneecap.
“Ella?” Vlad was scared now, his voice shaky and uncertain, and for a moment I thought I saw just a glimpse of the fear he’d instilled into me over the years. It was a triumphant moment, one I’d never forget, watching the villain of my life and how the color drained from his cheeks.
My lack of answer or movement angered him. “Ella!”
His voice startled me, and in what felt like slow motion - I held my breath, looked down the sight of his gun, and fired. The noise the bullet made as it left the chamber and then embedding itself into Vladimir’s flesh caused a surge of adrenalin to flow through me. I gasped, jumping back as bone and blood splattered across the floor, as Vladimir fell to the floor, howling like an animal, roaring.
“You cunt! You fucking cunt!” He bellowed, his thick, heavy body rolled around the floor, smearing blood everywhere.
I ran, never looking back.
He didn’t deserve one last glance.
Thirteen years I’d waited.
And it had felt better than I could have ever imagined.
Chapter Thirty Five
Jax.
Jesus Christ, I was in agony. Every bone cracked and creaked, giving Ella ample opportunity to be able to get ahead of me and quick. Benny had gone back to the party, leaving me to hobble down the corridor behind it.
I’d made my way through a small closet of some kind, skin prickling knowing this is the only way Ella could have gone, and then I was moving through a room that looked as though it was stuck in the seventies. Tables with strange fucking looking dolls, dolls that were familiar to me; your grandmother wasn’t your grandmother unless she had a cabinet full to the brim of these things.
But when I reached the middle of the room, I saw the blood. I saw the evidence that a fight had broken out, and I moved quicker now, eyes squinting with each flash of lightning, the noise was deafening.
To the right of the room was the only other door, I opened it just an inch and peered through the crack, sagging with relief: the kitchen, I knew where I was.
What had my heart racing now was the people working. Caterers, cooks, waiters, and waitresses mulled around, grabbing trays of food. The stove hummed and steam rose from pots sitting on top of them, music played on a radio, and there wasn’t a friendly or familiar face to help get me through.
Fuck.
Dressed in sweatpants, black tee, and donning my busted face, I couldn’t blend in with the crowd.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I spun around, ready to fight once more whoever had caught me, only to come face to face with a familiar and friendly face.
Edith placed a small finger to her lips and thrust clothes into my arms. “Here; it was the best I could do. You can get to the roof from the second floor, end door on the right. There’s a ladder.”
I eyed the black suit and white shirt. There were no shoes, so I just had to hope the kitchen staff wouldn’t look at my damn feet.
Leaning forward, I placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
She nodded, lifting the hem of her skirt and scurrying off in the direction I’d just walked.
Once I was dressed, I ran my hands through my hair and peeked through the door again. Precious time was wasting, and I couldn’t lose anymore. Breathing deep, I pushed into the kitchen, head held high, and navigated my way through the throngs of people. Waitresses bumped into me, apologizing without looking at me, everyone seemed preoccupied with providing top class service for Vladimir.
A guy with a receding hairline and thin, angry lips approached me, shoving a tray of cocktails into my arms. “Take these in, will you?” He barked, looking over my shoulder to keep an eye on everyone.
I nodded and used the opportunity to slip from the kitchen, barely breathing, and happy to see that the entire party must have been isolated to the dining room and patio area as the main hallway was empty. I could see the outline of bodies standing outside the front door, guards no doubt, and so I dumped the tray on a hallway table and ran for the upstairs, fighting against the blinding pain I was in, I couldn’t waste another goddamn fucking second.
Ella.
The storm continued to rage as I climbed on to the roof. Rolling thunder and blinding lightning was passing overheard, my body was so incredibly tired, but I was so close now. It had felt as though I’d been running for hours, and my heart galloped in my chest as I wondered if I was too late. If, yet again, my baby would be taken from me.
Opening the skylight that was accessible via the music room, I was soaked within seconds, the gun had fallen from the waistband of my underwear, but I couldn't risk climbing back down to get it.
My eyes squinted hard against the light show playing out above me, using what little energy I had left to drag myself on to the tiles.
For a moment, the view took my breath away; I’d never been up here before, and in the distance, every time the lightning cracked, New Mexico lit up, and it looked beautiful. I could see beyond the walls, the woodland that lived to the right, and there was even the shimmer of a lake I never knew existed. The roof was enormous, of course, and flat for most of it, but nearer the edge was where the tiles slanted; all it would take was one wrong move, and whoever was standing on the edge would slip and fall.
My entire body froze when I heard the yell of a man. Looking up, and fighting hard to see against the lashing rain, I just made out the shape of a man, standing on the edge with a wriggling something in his arms.
A scream got lodged in my throat.
“Go away, Ella!” He yelled across the noise, almost making me jump. I had no idea he’d saw me.
With soft steps and my hands holding on to the wall on my right, I cried as I could see my daughter becoming clearer and clearer. “Carter! Please don’t take her away from me.” The rain made every word I screamed sound so flat and empty, the wind whisking them off into oblivion milliseconds after they left my lips.
Carter was just a few feet away now, his body trembling, the girl in his arms crying and clinging to his upper arms with tiny fists.
Two years ago, my baby was taken from me, and now I was seeing her for the first time. Not in some grainy black and white photograph, but in the flesh, and my heart fused, the valves joining once more, each chamber beating with a new kind of purpose.
She was beautiful.
Red hair, dark eyes, rolls of soon-to-be-gone baby fat on her legs. She wore just a white dress, her diaper visible as Carter shuffled her into a more comfortable position. His hands held her head, fingers brushing her hair.
The scene was surreal. I couldn’t breathe.
“Ella, I’ll jump, and I’ll take her with me if you take another step.” Carter cried, his anguish obvious on his features. “I know the truth. I know everything.”
“Carter, please, she’s innocent. You know she is, you don’t want to hurt her.”
More thunder. More lightning.
“Why the fuck shouldn’t I take her from him?” He asked, chancing a quick look at me over his shoulder. His blue eyes were pools of grief.
“He doesn’t care about her, Carter! You’d only be killing me.” My voice was high pitched, pleading, shrill against the violent weather and delicate atmosphere.
He shook his head, blond bangs sodden, and sticking to his cheeks. “I don’t fuc
king care, Ella, just stop talking so I can think!”
“Cart, let the girl go, please.” A deep, familiar, and calming voice boomed from beside me.
Jax placed a wet palm on my forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then he moved forwards, wary of the slippery tiles beneath his bare feet.
Relief flooded through my veins.
“Jax, man, I mean it.” Carter faced the horizon once more, and as he moved, his body slipped a little.
“Jaxon, please stop him!” I cried.
“Come on, Carter, that girl is an innocent child. You want revenge? Fine. You want to kill them all? Well, so do I. But please, don’t do this.” Jax called, his voice crystal clear over the thunderous storm. “Just come back from the edge, man. I can’t talk to you properly when you’re standing there with that girl in your arms.”
Carter laughed, a noise that made my skin crawl. “Nothing will fix what those two have done to me. Nothing. There’s no coming back from this.”
“Yes, there is. Jesus, man, look at everything Ella has gone through. Every breath she took, every time she got up and fought was for that child you’re holding, that sweet little girl who’s crying in your arms, terrified, confused, cold. We’ll give you something to fight for, and you know we will. But please, please step away from the edge.” Jax was so close to his friend now, and he could probably see my daughter better than I’d managed.
I breathed out a long, shaking breath.
Jax.
Ella was holding her breath, I couldn’t blame her, as I held out my hand, rain splashing my palms. “Give me the child, Carter, and then we can talk.”
Time slowed down. The noise became a muffled hum whizzing through my ears; I had no words left to say. Not now. Not up here where we could all plunge to our death at any moment. Ella’s strength from the moment I first saw her, waking up in the arms of her rapist, up until now, was astounding. I looked across at her, her eyes fixed on her daughter, Sarka, and if Carter refused and jumped, I’m not sure I could have ever looked at her again.
Moments passed, the wind tore across us, sending fat drops of water diagonally instead of straight down, and then, my friend was moving. Not forwards, but twisting at the hips. I watched as he placed the child on her feet, only to stand back up, looking down.