Forever (Betrothed Book 7)

by Penelope Sky

  Two weeks had passed, and there was no sign of Damien.

  Liam came to my bedroom and sat with me, as if his presence would be enough to warm me up. Sometimes we argued, sometimes I screamed, but most of the time, we sat in silence because I refused to speak to him.

  I was afraid he would force me to be with him, but he hadn’t tried. Maybe it was because I still had an injury…or maybe he was a better man than I gave him credit for. Either way, I was grateful, because being with him would be rape. Nothing less.

  I sat in my bedroom, my stomach rumbling because I refused to eat the lunch he’d brought earlier. When he’d carried the tray inside, I slapped it down with my palm and told him to fuck off. The mess was still on the floor.

  I was free to go about the house because I didn’t have chains on my wrists or ankles, but I chose to sit in my bedroom alone. I’d rather be alone than breathe the same air as that asshole. I’d rather be lonely than subjected to his nonsense.

  But I decided to leave and go downstairs to make something to eat in the kitchen, because I was so hungry I’d started to get a headache. When I reached the top of the staircase, I heard him talking to somebody.

  “Grab Catalina. That’s the only person that Damien will trade for. But just to warn you, she’s a spitfire. She’s small, but she knows a couple moves. Make sure you catch her alone because she won’t go easy. She’ll make a scene.”

  I heard every word, and I’d never been so terrified. Liam was conspiring to take my friend, Damien’s sister, and do something horrific. I didn’t bother to be quiet anymore, and I ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and ignored the pain in my abdomen. I might rip the stitches, but that wasn’t important right now. I got to the living room and saw him standing near the couch.

  He watched me, rigid and defensive, like there would be repercussions after what I just heard. He didn’t even have the humility to look guilty, to possess a hint of shame. If anything, he just looked annoyed that I’d overheard his master plan.

  “How dare you?” I marched up to him, unintimidated by his large size. I shoved both of my palms into his chest and forced him back, oblivious to the scream of my wound once I exerted myself. “Call it off. Now.”

  He staggered backward after my push but showed no resistance at all. He stayed back with a stoic expression, like he was prepared to handle anything I threw at him without an ounce of care. He looked like a martyr, doing something terrible for the greater good. He held his head high when he should be bent over in humiliation.

  “Leave her out of this. She’s my friend.”

  “Nothing will happen to her if Damien isn’t a piece of shit.”

  The phone was still in his hand, and I knew I needed to grab it if I was going to get out of here, if I was going to save Catalina, if I was going to save Damien. “What are you trying to do? You’re bringing an innocent person into something she has no part of.” I crept closer to him, my heart beating so fast because there were so many people on the line, including myself.

  “If Damien cares about his sister, he’ll show up.”

  “And then what?” I tried to keep him distracted.

  “I’ll release his sister…then kill him.” With no apology in his gaze, he stared at me with a look made of steel. He wouldn’t change his mind, no matter how I felt about it. He wouldn’t spare Damien because he considered him to be the root of our problems. “With him dead, we can finally have what we deserve.”

  There were no words to describe everything I felt in that moment. It was the first time I’d actually wanted to kill somebody, watch the light leave his eyes for good. I was a different person, dark and maniacal, a disturbed soul. “I told him not to kill you…” Why was I so stupid? Why did I say something so naïve?

  “You told him that because you love me.”

  Damien was really going to die because of my stupid decision. I couldn’t let that happen. “Liam.” I came closer to him, kept his gaze fixed on mine. “If I had a gun right now, I’d shoot you in the stomach, just as you did to me.”

  Then I made my move.

  I lunged forward and grabbed the phone out of his hand. I fell forward and lost my footing, but I grabbed the armchair and pushed myself back up. I had to run away to get ten seconds to make the call that would save everyone’s lives.

  Liam was faster. He grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me to the floor. “Anna, stop.”

  I kicked him away and started to crawl.

  “Stop.” He got on top of me and pinned my arms down. “Calm down. You’ll hurt yourself.” He pulled the phone out of my tight fingers and slipped it into his pocket.

  I knew I’d had no chance, but I was devastated that I’d lost. Damien would sacrifice himself to save his sister because I knew how much he loved her…and then I would lose him forever. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I lost my mind. “Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything.”

  There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in his eyes, no indecision whatsoever. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

  Damien did nothing wrong. He met me at the bank and wanted more. He tried to leave me, but I wouldn’t let him go. All this was happening because of me… It was all my fault. I sobbed harder than I ever had before, not looking at Liam even though he was right on top of me. “Please…”

  “I have to do this, Anna.” He finally looked conflicted, finally had a soul. He knew how much this hurt me and could at least feel that. “I have to do this for us.”

  Nineteen

  Heath

  Cast in shadow along with everyone else in the auditorium, I watched my target glide across the stage on the tips of her toes, a focused but poised expression on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her soft features far sterner than they needed to be. It was her solo, and while the other dancers paused, she continued to move across the floor, jumping into the air, spinning, and landing on a single foot without making a sound on her landing—because she probably only weighed a hundred pounds.

  Catalina was easy to spot.

  Every guy was dressed in sport coats and suits, but I walked in there in jeans and a shirt.

  Because I didn’t give a fuck.

  That was how you knew not to mess with someone, when they completely disregarded societal norms. They didn’t care about anyone else, and if you fucked with them, they wouldn’t care about fucking up your life either.

  Catalina was such a beautiful and talented dancer. I almost felt bad for what was about to happen to her.

  Almost.

  The curtains closed with a round of applause, and when Catalina took her curtsy, red roses were tossed on the stage, making it perfectly clear she had numerous admirers.

  Everyone filed out of the auditorium and headed to the bar so they could discuss their opinions about the ballet, even though no one really gave a damn about opinions like that.

  I left from the main entrance but waited in the back. Dancers and crew members entered and exited from a different area, a door that opened from the inside but not the outside. Anyone coming backstage had to knock and hope someone answered.

  I leaned against the wall and waited.

  One by one, dancers and crew left. Most girls left in a group of at least two, walking to their cars together to stay safe.

  I was in shadow again so I was practically invisible, and I was also lucky that my target had an inflated ego. She knew a few self-defense moves and assumed she was invincible, that the rules didn’t apply to her like everyone else.

  She was about to find out how wrong she was.

  Almost two hours after the curtains closed, she walked out.

  Her hair was free from the bun, so long that it seemed impossible that it had all been stuffed inside that small bun just a few hours ago. She was in a yellow dress and heels, which was perplexing because I thought ballet dancers had painful feet, especially right after a performance. Why would any dancer put on five-inch heels after dancing for two hours? Her shoes tapped with
a regular cadence as she walked down the sidewalk to her car parked somewhere at the curb.

  My eyes moved down her silhouette, sizing her up. She was a very petite woman, so thin she couldn’t be more than 110 pounds despite her above-average height. She had lean muscles in her arms and legs, a figure that was both athletic and strong. Maybe she was tougher than most girls, but she was still nothing compared to me.

  Someone four times her size was still nothing compared to me.

  I followed behind her with my hands in my pockets because this was a casual grab. I would cup my hand over her mouth and silence her screams before I choked her out and made her body go limp. Then I’d throw her over my shoulder and take her home like a deer carcass I’d shot in the woods.

  Easy.

  I came closer to her, my footsteps slightly audible if she was paying attention, but her heels were so loud, I doubt she noticed. A green purse hung off her shoulder, and she looked down and riffled through it to find her keys, the number one thing women should not do.

  Ignore her surroundings.

  Liam described this woman as having some kind of intelligence, but I didn’t see any sign of it anywhere. All I saw was a dumb girl in a sundress and heels, completely oblivious to the enormous man behind her who could do some seriously terrible things.

  Dumbass.

  She stopped walking altogether because finding her keys in that big-ass purse was quite a task that required minutes rather than seconds. It was probably stuffed with lipstick, hair ties, old receipts from cafés, and a bunch of other bullshit that turned her purse into a trash can.

  And now it would cost her life.

  I moved behind her and started to make my move.

  With lightning speed, she turned around and swung her purse like a weapon. She smacked it hard against my face, hitting me with her heavy pile of trash that struck my cheek so hard I actually felt it sting.

  Bitch.

  But that wasn’t all. She pulled her purse back and revealed a decent-sized knife in her grasp.

  That was what she was looking for—not her damn car keys.

  She held it with confidence, the blade pointed down so she couldn’t accidentally stab herself. It was a move someone had taught her, not something she’d picked up on her own, unless she watched a lot of YouTube videos. Carved into her serious features was the look of a madwoman. Her eyes were full of menace, and she actually showed her teeth like a threatened dog. She didn’t warn me to run away or threaten to call the cops.

  Instead, she tried to kill me.

  She stabbed me in the arm, not waiting for me to get my footing after being hit in the face with a goddamn purse. She dug the blade right into my arm like a maniac. “Don’t fuck with me, asshole.” The blade sank deep into my flesh before it was ripped out again, and then she slammed her heel into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.

  Jesus Christ.

  I fell back, my face on fire, choking for air, and my arm bleeding all over the fucking place.

  But that wasn’t enough for her. When my guard was down because I’d just gotten my ass handed to me, she came at me again.

  Should’ve taken Liam seriously, apparently.

  Now, I stopped paying attention to her bright dress and her long, done-up hair. I looked at her as a man and finally treated her like one. When she jumped on me, the blade was aimed right at my stomach.

  This bitch was actually going to try to kill me.

  I threw up my arm and braced her so her hand couldn’t drive the knife inside me a second time. I threw her off of me, making her hit the pavement with a loud thud.

  That didn’t slow her down—at all.

  It was enough time for me to get to my feet and look her in the eye with my hands up and ready for a fight.

  She was just as ready, that knife so steady she could be a surgeon. “Come on, fuckboy.”

  What the fuck did she just call me?

  “You better run, or I’ll skin your ass alive.” She spun the knife around her wrist, trying to show off her handling skills. “You’re lucky I’m in heels because I can’t run as fast as you. I suggest you take advantage of that.”

  I could say I’d assaulted a lot of people, but never had it gone like this. Even if people didn’t know who I was, they were so scared of my size, they shit their pants, and they were never brave enough to talk shit like this. And she was a woman, to top it off.

  She made a fake lunge, trying to scare me off with that big, bloody knife. “Who the fuck do you think I am?” She started to shout, probably in the hope someone would hear the commotion and come to her rescue.

  I quickly jumped back, not wanting another wound that might actually make me bleed to death. One cut in my arm wouldn’t slow me down. I had at least twenty minutes before it became a problem. But if she landed another blow, like in my stomach or my thigh, near major arteries, I’d be in trouble.

  She danced in her heels like she was in flats, probably because she was a professional ballerina. She jumped to the right and swiped at me, aiming right for my stomach.

  Shit, she was going for my artery. It was fucking intentional.

  “I ain’t no average bitch, boy.” She struck again, trying to get that same spot.

  I had the opportunity to twist her arm back and get that knife free, but I was so bewildered by what she’d just said. “What?”

  “I’m gonna bounce on a dick, boy.” She tried to stab me again.

  I took a couple steps back. “Are you paraphrasing Beyoncé right now?”

  “Hell yes, motherfucker. And I suggest you run before I kick your ass just like she would.” Her green eyes were fearless, like a hunter in ancient times that couldn’t afford to be afraid. She had to kill the animal to feed her family and survive, to win the battle to preserve her tribe. Nostrils flared and lips pressed tight together, she was savage, ice-fucking-cold. She spun the knife again around her wrist then made a move. This time, she went for my neck.

  Crazy-ass bitch.

  I stopped focusing on all the stupid shit flying out of her mouth so I could finally disarm her. I grabbed her wrist and spun her around, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her hand down onto my thigh so she would drop the blade.

  But she didn’t.

  My arm wrapped around her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

  But then she started to stab me in the leg without seeing where she was aiming, just frantically trying to get me in whatever way she could.

  I moved my body away and kept hold of her, and while I was distracted, she bit down on my arm as hard she could.

  I ground my teeth together and screamed from the back of my throat, suppressing the noise as much as possible so people wouldn’t run over to see the commotion, but damn, that hurt more than the knife wound. “Alright, I’m sick of this shit.” I grabbed her wrist and spun it around until it was about to break it. With my other hand on the back of her neck, I bent her over like a dog. “Let go.”

  “No.”

  I pushed harder on her wrist, bringing the bone to the breaking point.

  She didn’t whimper. “That’s all you got, fuckboy?”

  I lost my temper and threw her into the nearby car, and her body flattened against the solid door. She landed with a heavy thud. Thankfully it was an old, dusty car that didn’t possess an alarm system, so an obnoxious noise didn’t ring out. She groaned when her body slammed into it, but she still didn’t drop the knife.

  I pushed my chest against her back and kept her pinned in place so I could yank the knife from her hand. It still dripped with my blood. Now that the battle was over, there was blood everywhere. Drops from my cut were on the sidewalk, grass, and all over this piece-of-shit car. It was on my clothes, on her dress. It looked like a murder scene.

  I slipped the knife into my pocket. “We can do this one of two ways. Easy way or hard way.”

  “Hard. Always hard.” She bucked her hips against me as she tried to throw me off.

  She was quite the adversary
with a knife, but when it was just her body against mine, she stood no chance. It was like throwing herself against a brick wall. All she would do was hurt herself and leave me untouched. “Alright.” I wrapped my arm around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air supply so she would eventually black out. I could’ve given her a syringe full of sedative and that would’ve been a lot more pleasant for her, but I wasn’t in the mood to be polite to this psycho.

  She struggled to the very end, fighting with a strength that was so fierce it was a mystery where it came from. She fought harder than most men, didn’t give up even when hope was pointless. And she lasted a lot longer than anyone ever would.

  Then she finally went under.

  I released my arm from her throat and supported her body. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I sighed in relief because the bullshit was finally over. We were both covered in blood, and I was irritated that the whole thing had taken fifteen minutes when it should’ve taken fifteen seconds. I threw her over my shoulder and carried her to my truck farther down the road. Thankfully, no one was out because it was so late, so I did all of it unseen. I opened the passenger door and propped her inside before I shut the door and came around to the driver’s side.

  The passenger door opened, and she sprinted away. Her heels were gone because she must’ve slipped them off when I walked behind the truck to get to my side, so now her bare feet slapped against the pavement with the speed of an Olympic runner.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Twenty

  Catalina

  Drenched in sweat, I ran all the way to my apartment without stopping. My purse had fallen to the ground at some point in the battle, so I didn’t have my keys to drive my car or my phone to call the cops. So, I had to use my landline, even though no one in this day and age had a fucking landline. Luckily, my apartment door had a keypad lock.

  I paced my apartment, bloodstains on my favorite dress, and I spoke to the police about the nightmare I’d just experienced. “This fucking asshole snuck up behind me on my way to my car. I tried to fight him off, but he got my knife and choked me out.”