The faster I run, the faster they run. And that's when the panic starts to settle in. A million different scenarios stream through my head, and they all have the same dire outcome.
The muscles in my calves and thighs scream as I push myself to move faster and faster. If I can just reach one of the emergency call boxes scattered throughout the park, I’ll be all right.
But I never reach one in time.
One moment my feet are pounding against the trail, and the next they're kicking at the air as I'm hauled up off the ground by the person behind me.
Thick, hairy arms encircle my arms, pinning them to my waist as I’m dragged backwards by a large, bulky man. Screaming, I kick at his shins and try to wriggle from his grip, throwing my head back and slamming into his chin. The blow is enough to knock me silly, but the grunt I hear from my attacker gives me satisfaction that I was able to hurt him.
His grip loosens a little until he’s half carrying, half dragging me towards the woods at the edge of the trail. I know that I might never make it out of there alive if he gets me in the secluded area, so I start screaming at the top of my lungs, praying someone is nearby and is able to hear my pleas. “Help! Someone please help me!” My voice sounds so high-pitched and desperate that it scares me.
Suddenly, the man throws me down on the leaf-covered ground, pinning me with all his weight. The crushing blow causes the air in my lungs to escape in a rush, and I struggle to breathe.
In my vulnerable state, I look up at my attacker. His face is covered with a black ski mask, and all I can make out are his beady, brown eyes and broken, rotten teeth as he breathes heavily through his open mouth.
His meaty hands tear at my clothes, ripping down my shirt and searching my yoga pants for pockets. He’s probably looking for money, but I never carry anything more than a twenty-dollar bill in my sports bra pocket for when I go to visit Sophie. And I'll die before I tell him to reach in there.
"Where's your money, bitch?" he hisses through clenched teeth with a thick Irish accent.
Irish.
I’m not sure if this man works for Nolan Farrell or maybe one of Nolan’s sons. I can’t help but wonder if this whole thing is in retaliation from the charity gala several weeks ago.
I manage to pull a small burst of air into my crushed lungs before I scream for help again. If Farrell is behind this, I need to get help as soon as I can. I know what the Irish Mob boss is capable of.
The hard blow comes out of nowhere, silencing my cry and whipping my head to the side. My ears ring as a fog falls over me. For a moment, I lose consciousness, and my body goes limp.
I’m completely helpless as his hands paw at me again, and I faintly hear the sound of fabric tearing as he tries to yank my pants down.
The sound is enough to bring me back to reality. Sucking in a breath, renewed strength courses through my veins as I use the heels of my palms to strike him in the face.
He quickly grips his nose, which I most likely broke, and roars in anger. Cursing, he spits blood and mucus onto the ground beside me, barely missing my face.
His large hand collides with my mouth as he backhands me. Pain radiates through my entire mouth and jaw as the smell and taste of metal hits my senses.
Pinning my wrists down above me with one of his big, sweaty hands, he hisses at me, "I came for your money, but now maybe I should take something else since you’re such a pain in the ass," he says, grinding his crotch against me.
His breath is foul as it runs over my face, and I turn my head away, gagging at the stench. Tears stream down my face as I shake my head back and forth. "No, no, no, no," I sob. "Please!"
He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and the sound of a pocket knife flicking open has my breath seizing in my lungs.
"Don't worry, love,” he says menacingly, “I'll have you begging for it in a minute."
He releases my wrists to undo his pants, and I take the momentary freedom to scramble back away from him. I turn, getting up to run, but he tackles me to the dirty ground again.
I’m on my stomach now, even more vulnerable than before. His fingers tear at my clothes, struggling to rip them off of me. I try to kick back at him, but my legs are pinned underneath his fat thighs.
I can feel his cock pressing up against my ass, and I scream bloody murder. "Help me! Somebody please help me!" My hands grasp for something, anything, but come up empty. There are only leaves and small twigs on the ground, nothing to strike back with.
"Shut up, bitch," he growls, wrapping his hands around my throat. The delicate chain of my necklace breaks under his grip, and I can feel my only comfort in this whole wide world falling from me into the dirty ground below.
His grip only tightens as my vision begins to swirl, blurring everything in front of me. Darkness threatens to consume me, but I refuse to go under.
I mentally try to prepare myself for what's about to happen, but I can't. I can't just…give up.
And it's in that moment when I hear a deep voice asking, "What the fuck is going on here?"
A sob of relief releases from my lips as the man on me loosens his grip around my neck. He pushes up off of me; his crushing weight gone. I collapse to the ground, barely managing to turn my head to see my savior.
My mouth takes a while to catch up with my brain as I stare at the man before me, trying to understand how he's here right now. "Damon!" I sob.
His dark green eyes meet mine as he looks me over. His gaze turns murderous when he sees my condition, and then he turns his attention to my attacker.
The man quickly stands and starts running away. Damon looks at me and asks, "Are you okay?"
I nod and shake my head consecutively. I'm not even sure how I am right now. I feel battered and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m safe now that he’s here.
"I'll be right back. Don't move," he tells me as he takes off after the man.
"Wait!" I find myself calling out. "Please don't leave me alone," I whisper.
But Damon is already gone.
CHAPTER 18
DAMON
AS I RUN after Victoria's attacker, all I can think about is the way she looked on the cold, dirty ground.
Her lip busted and bloody.
Her violet eyes wide and scared, shimmering with tears.
She looked up at me like I was her savior. Her fucking hero.
If she only knew the truth.
"Goddamn it," I mutter under my breath as I run faster.
When I finally catch up to the motherfucker, he's bent over, winded, with his hands on his knees and drawing air into his lungs.
Drawing back my fist, I land the punch right to his jaw. The man falls to the ground, cursing. “Fuck!” he hisses, spitting blood out of his busted mouth. "What the fuck did ya do that for?" he yells. "I only did whatcha asked of me! Whatcha paid me for!"
"I told you to scare her, to rob her, not to fucking lay a hand on her!" I practically scream. Seeing his hands on her made something inside of me snap. I want to kill the sonofabitch even though all of this is my own fucking fault. I shouldn’t have listened to Baz. I shouldn’t have done this.
But it’s too late now.
What’s done is done.
"Bitch didn't have any money," he grumbles, pulling a loose and bloody yellowed tooth from his mouth before tossing it to the ground.
"You went too far. You crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed," I growl angrily. "You fucked up, Grady."
"So I'm not getting the rest of my money?"
"You won't need money where you're going," I mutter before wrestling him to the ground. Pinning him down with my weight, my fists raining blows onto his face all while I picture Victoria in my mind.
Her shock.
Her sadness.
Her fucking pain.
I roar in anger as I lash out over and over again until his body is limp below me and his face resembles a bloody, tangled mess of exposed bone and tissue.
“Fuck!” I howl as I push up off
of him. Panting, I stalk back and forth like a caged fucking lion as I try to get my shit together.
After wiping Grady’s blood off my hands in the wet grass, I pull my cell phone out of my hoodie pocket.
Baz created this problem for me. Now he can be the one to clean it up.
CHAPTER 19
VICTORIA
BY THE TIME Damon comes back for me, I'm a shaking, sobbing mess. I'm still sitting on the ground, my clothes in total disarray and my neck and face thumping with pain.
"Victoria," he says before kneeling down in front of me. His hoodie is gone and he’s only wearing a black t-shirt now. He reaches for me, but I flinch. "It's okay. He's gone. I chased him as far as I could, but he got away."
I close my eyes at his words. The man who attacked me deserved to be caught and to pay for what he did, but I'm glad Damon didn't put himself in any more danger. The guy had a knife, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to Damon because of me.
Suddenly, I throw myself into Damon's arms, crying against his chest, my entire body trembling in his arms. "He was…he was going to…" My voice breaks as I can't even voice what almost happened to me.
His hand brushes down my back, soothing me. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here now," he whispers into my ear.
I pull back just far enough to meet his concerned gaze. "If you wouldn't have showed up when you did…"
He shakes his head. "Don't think about that right now, Victoria." He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear that must have come loose from my ponytail, and I flinch when he grazes my sore temple. "Fuck…I'm sorry," he says with a deep frown. "I'm so sorry, Victoria."
More tears leak out of my eyes as I grasp onto his shirt, holding onto him for dear life.
Damon holds me tightly, soothing me with calm whispers in my ear as he gently fixes my clothes.
My instinct is to reach for my necklace, which has been like a lifeline to me over the years, but then I realize it’s gone. “Oh, no,” I cry, almost to the point of hysterics. I barely remembered my attacker breaking it.
I release my grip on Damon and immediately go to the ground, frantically searching for the only thing I have left of Arlo.
Damon tries to help me up, but I wrestle from his grip, feeling around in the leaves and dirt. “My necklace. I lost it,” I sob. The attack and everything that just happened doesn’t even matter to me right now. I have to find that locket.
Damon doesn’t say a word as he kneels on the ground and helps me search.
“It’s silver,” I tell him between sobs. “A locket.” Tears blur my vision, but I’m still crawling on the ground, refusing to give up searching.
I vaguely notice Damon has gone still beside me. And when I look up, I see the locket in his hand. It’s open, and he stares intently at the picture inside. When his green eyes meet mine, there is an undecipherable emotion inside of them. “Is this it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes!” I cry out in relief. Snatching it from his hand, I inspect it carefully. The locket is fine, but the chain has been broken in two different places. I’ve had to replace the chain over the years anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal. But the locket is irreplaceable. “Thank you,” I tell him wholeheartedly as I crush the locket against my chest, and Damon simply gives me a tight nod.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he tells me before standing and helping me up.
Gripping the locket tightly in my hand, I lean on Damon for support as we make our way out of the park together.
CHAPTER 20
DAMON
I ROYALLY FUCKED everything up.
I thought I could detach my feelings from this situation, close myself off and not think twice about it.
But seeing Victoria in pain, the fear in her eyes did something to me.
It took me back to a time when we were both innocent. We were young, maybe seven or eight years old. Victoria fell off her bike and scraped her hands and knees up pretty good.
I remember seeing the big, fat tears rolling down her delicate cheeks, and it gutted me back then.
I just didn’t know her tears would completely gut me today as well.
And to know that I was the source of the pain, the source of her anguish…it was like a knife being thrust into my stomach and someone twisting the handle.
The only saving grace is that my plan worked and that no more drastic steps will have to be taken. I can actually feel Victoria’s adoration for me now. I’m a hero in her eyes. And even though I did the unthinkable, I need to focus on moving forward and salvaging my plans for retribution.
The tea kettle whistling on the stove abruptly shakes me out of my thoughts. I fix Victoria a cup of tea before heading back into my living room where she’s perched on the window seat overlooking Manhattan.
She didn’t feel safe enough to return to her apartment, so I offered to bring her to mine. It’s not much, but I’m not planning on staying here long. There’s a small kitchen, living room and two bedrooms. One bedroom is filled with my computer and surveillance equipment, so I’ll have to keep that locked while she’s here.
When I approach Victoria, her knees are drawn up to her chest, and her head is turned toward the window, her dark hair cascading down her legs. She looks like a fucking angel sitting there, some unearthly creature that I stumbled upon.
“Victoria,” I say gently so as to not startle her.
She turns to me, smiling a woefully sad smile. Her right hand is clutching something, and I know it’s the locket. She hasn’t stopped holding it since we found it on the ground.
I remember seeing the silver chain around her neck before, but she always had the locket hidden under her clothes. The way she would always touch her chest… I thought it was a nervous habit, but now I know she was using the locket like a totem, a reminder of the boy she lost so long ago.
A reminder of me.
I was ten years old when I gave Victoria that necklace. I mowed several different lawns all summer long, sweating and slaving away to scrape up enough money to buy her something nice for her birthday.
My mother helped me pick it out, saying it was the perfect gift.
A silver locket with a picture of Victoria and me inside, so she could “always keep it close to her heart”, as my mother told me that day.
Little did I know that only months after Victoria’s birthday, our lives would all be irreparably broken and that I would lose her and my family forever.
She has since replaced the chain, because I’m sure it wore out long ago, but she kept the locket all this time. And the way she was clutching it in such a desperate time tells me that she never stopped thinking about Arlo. Perhaps never stopped loving him.
And the fact that she didn’t forget me, that she’s worn that necklace every day of her life since I gave it to her…made something fracture deep inside of me. I feel like I’m torn into two different entities — the man who wants to destroy her…and the man who wants to protect her.
Victoria’s eyes meet mine and then glance down at the necklace. She smiles fondly, her eyes warm and happy, as if remembering the boy who gave it to her.
“It’s my good luck charm,” she explains. “I never take it off.”
I turn away from her as that metaphorical knife in my gut twists a little more until I can practically feel the physical pain from it.
But even though my old feelings might be resurfacing for Victoria, I know I have to shove them back down in the pit of my dark soul where they belong.
Arlo died that night in the fire. And like a phoenix, I arose from the ashes to get my revenge. I’ve been focused on vengeance for so long that nothing is going to take that away from me.
Not Victoria.
Not our memories together.
And certainly not love.
CHAPTER 21
VICTORIA
AFTER GETTING ATTACKED in the park, I was scared, too frightened to go home, even too fearful to go to the police. And so, when Damon offered for
me to spend the night, I didn’t even hesitate to say yes.
If my mugger was working for Nolan Farrell, there’s nothing the police would do anyway. Farrell’s clan is protected by dirty cops with fat wallets; allowed to roam the streets, wreaking havoc and causing mayhem however they so choose.
And if my attacker wasn’t working for Farrell, the likelihood that he would even be caught is slim, at best. There are hundreds of muggings every day in this city, and I have no doubt that wasn’t the first time he’s done something like that. He’s obviously good at getting away with it.
I didn’t even see any of his features thanks to the ski mask covering his face. But I do remember his beady, brown eyes and his voice — his thick Irish accent and gravelly tone that will surely make an appearance in my nightmares tonight.
An uncontrollable shiver runs through me even though I’m standing under the hottest temperature of water I can tolerate in Damon’s shower.
A knock on the door has me jumping. “Victoria?” Damon calls. “I laid out some clothes in my bedroom for you when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” I say even though I’m sure the water drowned out my voice.
Sticking my face into the stream to wash away the rest of my tears, I finish showering and step out. Damon laid out a fluffy, white towel and I take my time drying off. I have so many cuts and bruises that I’m sure I’ll be a sore mess in the morning.
Walking over to the sink, I swipe my hand at the steam-covered mirror and stare at my reflection. There’s already a nasty bruise forming on my temple and my lip is busted where my attacker struck me. I look worse for wear.
Physically, I know I’ll heal.
But mentally…I’m going to be afraid every time I go running now. Afraid of getting attacked again.
My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I unleashed my emotions in the shower, and I refuse to shed another tear over what happened to me.
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