by J. L. Beck
He continues his attack even after the man stops moving and slides down to the ground. Even after I’m sure, he is dead. Markus is crazed, unhinged, and without humanity. He keeps punching the now dead body until there is only one thought left in my mind…
I’m going to be next.
26
Markus
Warm, sticky blood coats my bare chest as if it’s a second skin, and it takes me a moment to get my ragged breathing under control. War wages beneath the surface, threatening to eat away at my control. In my mind, I still see that fucker touching her, hitting her face while she is helpless on the ground, and I want to bring him back to life just so I can kill him again.
I quickly search his pockets, but there isn’t a wallet or even car keys. My anger intensifies but diminishes a bit when I find a phone. It’s not a complete loss. I shove the device into my pocket and return to Fallon’s side.
The sight of her as she sits on the cold ground, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around them while she sobs, is enough to do me in. I have to get us out of the woods and back into the house. I know the last thing she wants me to do is touch her, but she’s not going to move on her own, so I have no option but to pick her up.
“We have to get into the house and get cleaned up,” I tell her, my voice thick.
She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, like that’s going to make me disappear. I know she’s going to struggle, so I move with rapid reflexes, snaking one hand beneath her legs while wrapping the other around her back and pulling her into my chest. Like a stallion, she bucks against my chest, but I hold her tighter.
“Please, don’t… please…” Fallon cries while continuing to struggle in my grasp.
“Shhh, stop fighting me,” I hush, but that only seems to make her fight me more. “I’m not letting you go,” I growl like an animal.
The mere thought of her trying to escape makes me feral. I’m reminded that that’s exactly what she did. I told her to remain in the closet, and she didn’t. She ran right outside as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. I’m tempted to fucking put her on the ground and rut into her a thousand times over, marking her body with my own while telling her over and over again that she will never be free of me, but I don’t.
She is too close to the edge, too close to breaking, and I will not be the one that does that to her, no matter how tempting it is. When we reach the house, I jog up the stairs and into the bedroom. My thoughts are hyper-focused. I need to clean Fallon and myself, pack a light bag, and get the fuck out of here.
The cabin is no longer secure, and I was foolish for thinking that whoever is after me would stop at one person.
Placing her at the foot of the bed, I walk into the bathroom and retrieve a washcloth. When I return to the bed, I find Fallon in the same position I left her. Her chin is tucked into her chest, and she looks more scared than I’ve ever seen her before.
My shirt, the shirt she wore to bed, is tattered, hanging off one shoulder haphazardly.
The blood in my veins burns red hot as I drop my gaze, dragging it over her tiny body. Bruises have already started to form on her tender skin, and there is blood everywhere. It’s hard to tell if she is bleeding or if the blood staining her skin came from me.
I look down at her legs, her thighs, where fingertip bruises have formed. I know he didn’t rape her. I know because I got there just in time. If I allow myself, I can still hear her screams. The bloodcurdling sound may live with me forever.
“Did he hurt you anywhere?” I ask, not wanting to know but needing to know all at once.
When she doesn’t move, doesn’t even speak, I grip her by the chin and lift her face, so it meets mine. There is a turbulent storm brewing in her blue eyes. Pain, grief, and sadness consume her. She is lost inside herself right now. Unfortunately for her, things are going to get worse before they get better.
“Did he hurt you anywhere?” I repeat, this time a little slower.
Fallon stares at me for a long moment before shaking her time.
I nod and brush a few matted strands of hair from her face. She has a scratch above her eye and across her cheek that she must’ve gotten from a stray branch or twig. The other cheek is unscratched but swollen and red.
Using my thumb, I trace the cuts, making sure they’re not deep. Her feet look to be cut up from running through the woods barefoot, but aside from bruises and the terror she is feeling, she will make it.
I release my hold on her chin, and her face falls once again.
She is broken, my beautiful flower, but she will prevail. I’m vaguely aware I should be punishing her right now, but what that fucker did to her is punishment enough.
I use the washcloth and clean the cuts on her face and feet. She has a little blood on her shoulder and arms, so I clean that off too.
“Take off your shirt,” I order gruffly, my patience already shredded.
Fallon seems to fall deeper into herself, and I decide to take matters into my own hands. Leaving her once more, I go into the closet, find a shirt, yoga pants, and a fresh pair of panties. When I return, I dress her like a small doll, looking over her body for any injuries she may have been lying about. She reacts only briefly to my touch with a flinch, as if I’m going to hit her.
She should know better than that. I’ve had all the time in the world to hurt her, and I haven’t. When I’m finished getting her dressed, I strip out of my pants, which are far less bloody than my skin. It looks like I bathed in the blood of my enemies.
I don’t care about the blood on my hands or the death and anguish I’ve caused, but I know it scares Fallon, and the last thing I need is her becoming more fearful than she already is.
I remember the man’s phone as I’m staring down at my jeans and retrieve it from my pocket. It’s a burner phone, nothing special about it. There isn’t even a lock on it. Stupid fucker. It’s easy enough to navigate through, and I squeeze the phone hard enough to crush it like a pop can in my hand. In the messages is one single text, it’s to a random number. The content of the message is a photo of Fallon.
I clench my jaw in an attempt to stave off the roar that wants to release from within me. I will get to the bottom of this. I will extract any and all information I can from Fallon, no matter the cost. If knowing the truth is going to protect her, then so be it. I’ll be the big bad monster.
I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect her, us.
Loosening my grip on the phone, I walk over and place it on the nightstand. The number will be valuable information for later.
“I need to rinse off quickly,” I say through gritted teeth, the anger mounting. Fallon doesn’t even acknowledge me, not even as I walk into the bathroom and start the shower. I pop my head out of the shower every few seconds to make sure she is still there while the blood swirls down the drain.
Once clean, I grab a towel and dry off. Fallon is quietly sobbing when I enter the bedroom. I’m tempted to go to her and console her, but such a thing will have to wait. We need to get out of here before more men arrive.
I pick out clothing in the closet, get myself dressed, and grab a duffel bag that I find on the floor. Shoving some clothes into it for Fallon and myself, I return to the bed. There is another gun hidden beneath the bed, and I run my hand along the frame until I find it.
It’s a handgun, nothing fancy, but it will be good enough till we get where we need to be. I shove it into the back of my jeans, along with the phone from earlier, and walk over to Fallon.
“Let’s go,” I order, but she doesn’t move. “Fallon,” I say a little more sternly. She lifts her head and meets my gaze. She is frozen, an iceberg floating in a sea of endless emotions.
“We need to leave. There could be others coming.”
“I… I wasn’t running,” she whispers, her bottom lip trembling.
Whatever patience I had left is gone. I’m in no way capable of having this conversation right now. Not without wanting to throttle her. Sh
e knew what she was doing, knew that her one and only chance at escape would’ve been right then. I don’t for a second believe she wasn’t trying to escape, but again, this conversation will be better suited for another day.
“I don’t give a fuck right now, Fallon. Get up and pull yourself together. We need to leave,” I order once more and decide this time if she doesn’t obey that I’m simply going to pick her up and toss her over my shoulder.
She shakes her head, fear trickling back into her eyes. Of course, she tries to make a feeble attempt to escape me, crab walking to the headboard, but I’m past giving a shit, past all of it. This is survival now.
“I do not have the patience for your bullshit,” I hiss through my teeth and grab her by the waist. I pull her to the edge of the bed, getting a better grasp on her, and then toss her over my shoulder. Likewise, she struggles, but her escape is futile. She would have better luck fighting off a starving bear than me.
“I have to save her. I have to, you don’t understand, Markus.” She starts to scream while pounding her tiny fists against my back.
Her struggles intensify, and by the time I reach the car, I’m done. I have nothing left to give her. I’m hovering on the line of insanity, caught between crossing the line and standing on it. I drop the duffel bag to the ground and release my hold on Fallon at the same time. She slides down my front, her fists still raining fury down on me.
“I hate you and this place. I hate that my sister was taken…” She’s crying now. Big fat tears slip down her cheeks. “They are hurting her, he told me. It’s my fault… and your fault! You should have let me call them.”
All I can do is stare down at her.
Her cheeks are red, and angry lines of fresh tears streak her face. I should care. I should wipe the tears away, cradle her to my chest, and tell her everything is going to be okay.
That would be the right thing to do, the good thing, but I’m not about to deliver false hope, and I’m not listening to this shit. If she had been honest and given me the answers I wanted, none of this would’ve happened.
I’m tired of playing nice.
Tired of protecting her.
Without even thinking, I grab her by the throat and push against the car, subduing her with my body. Panic flashes like a lightning bolt across her eyes, overtaking the sadness. Her pulse thunders beneath my hand, and I give her throat a hard squeeze.
I’m slipping into the past, slipping further away.
Brushing my nose against hers, I inhale deeply. I wish her scent could bring me back…
“Your sister is still alive. You’re still alive. For how long, I’m not sure as you continue pushing and fighting me at every fucking turn. I’ve asked you to tell me the truth, and you’ve fought me with each step. The pain you’re feeling right now is your own fault. I could protect us better, protect you better if you just gave me the fucking information, but you won’t. I’m going to have to go back on my word. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Markus, please… I’m sorry.” The words wheeze past her lips.
I’m grappling for control, grappling with myself over how to handle her.
There is no way around it.
I pull away a bit, watching her face, her struggle, the way her hands pry at mine, wrapped around her throat. I’ve never seen her more afraid of me before, not even the day I bought her. Her chest is rising and falling, but it doesn’t seem like air is filling her lungs.
Guilt pulses to life in my chest, but I ignore the pang.
With my hand wrapped securely around her throat, I press my thumb firmly into the side of her neck. The blood supply to her brain is cut off immediately, and her fight-or-flight instincts kick in full force as she struggles harder. She digs her nails into my hands and tries with all her might to push me away, but there is no breaking the hold I have on her.
I keep the pressure there until her eyes flutter closed, and she goes slack in my arms, her body giving out on her. Like a rag doll, she slumps against me, and I hold her close to my chest while I maneuver her into the passenger seat of the car.
Once situated, I brush a few stray locks of gold hair off her clammy forehead. I’m tempted to kiss her rosy lips, but instead, press a kiss to the crown of her head. I can’t grow anymore attached to her than I am. Not until I know the whole truth.
As I pull away, my gaze latches on the red and swollen fingerprints that were left on her delicate throat. My stomach knots, and the guilt I tried so hard to bury, to swallow down, starts to rise up again.
Before I can even think about it, I’m touching the spots, tracing them ever so gently with my fingers. I don’t like knowing that I put those marks there, even though that’s who I am and who I will always be. I’ll always be the villain, the killer, walking on the wrong side of the law.
Pulling my hand back as if her skin is fire, I grit my teeth.
No! I won’t feel bad. I won’t let the guilt take me for a heinous ride down memory lane.
She ran from me.
She’s hiding secrets.
She cannot be trusted.
Those three things weigh heavily on my shoulders and are the reminder I need.
If we’re going to make it out of this on the same side, I will have to find a way to make her crack, and I have just the right idea.
27
Fallon
I wake with my heart galloping in my chest. I’m disoriented, my thoughts muddled, making it hard for me to piece together anything.
Sucking a full breath of air into my lungs, I exhale and swallow around what feels like a knot in my throat. My body aches as if I passed out or something. Sitting up a little more in my seat, I realize I’m in a vehicle that’s being driven down the road. I dismiss that altogether when I swallow once more and feel the sudden rawness in my throat.
Instinctively, I lift a hand to my throat, my fingers press against the tender tissue, and I wince. What happened?
Everything comes barreling into my mind in an instant.
The men breaking in. The woods. Markus wrapping his hand around my throat. Strangling the life right out of me.
Tears prick my eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised or let down. This is who he is, who he’s been all along. Ever thinking that I could trust him was my first mistake.
“I’m going to have to go back on my word. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Markus is driving, staring out the windshield, his penetrating gaze focused on the road ahead. He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel just like he did my throat.
I want to say something, to lash out, but what good would that do me? It wouldn’t change what’s already happened? It wouldn’t fix any of this or make my sister safe. I’m spinning out of control, and I’m not sure anything will be able to stop me.
With each swallow, I try my best to ignore the throb in my throat, but it’s a reminder of what he did to me, of how everything he said was a lie.
I’m completely hopeless and afraid now. He told me he would never hurt me, and though he didn’t really hurt me, it feels like he did.
Like a statue, he remains motionless and silent. That only enrages me more. How can he sit there so calmly? It’s stupid to feel as angry as I do over this. I know that, but nothing he has done to me thus far has amounted to what he did earlier. I’ve never felt so afraid, never felt the real darkness inside of him, not until that very moment.
I half expected him to kill me. The coldness in his eyes… how uncaring he seemed, and how he took back his word on hurting me, truly hurting me.
The mere memory of it makes me shiver.
“How are you feeling?” His deep, robust voice cuts through the air.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Why do you care?”
“Honestly, I don’t. I don’t give a fuck if you’re mad at me. I did what I had to do. My options were slim, and you wouldn’t calm down. You should be grateful I didn’t shove your ass in the trunk.”
/> I refuse to admit it, but he’s right. I was too far gone to care about anything, and the only way he was doing to get me out of that house was the exact way he did.
Markus isn’t my main concern right now. My sister is. Thoughts of what that man back at the cabin told me circulate through my mind.
She’s being hurt and taken advantage of, passed around, and raped. Bile rises in my throat. By the time I get to her, she’ll be a different person, her spirit broken. How will I save her and myself? I feel like I’m trapped between two canyons that are closing in on me more and more each day.
The car slows, and Markus signals, taking the exit. I’m tempted to ask him where we’re going but press my lips together to stop myself from doing so. Whatever we shared back in that cabin ended there. It ended when he took back his word.
Off the exit, he pulls into a small diner that’s connected to a gas station. Markus parks the car and turns the engine off. He lets out a sigh and turns in his seat to face me. He’s a mammoth of a man, and the space inside the car seems smaller because of him.
“Here’s how this is going to work.” He pauses, and his cool amber-colored eyes briefly meet mine. “We’re going to go inside and eat. You’re going to listen and behave yourself. Ignore anyone who asks you questions. Believe me, you don’t want to know what happens if you fail to listen to me.”
“What, you’ll strangle me and kill everyone inside?” I scoff, and then realize how much of a reality that truly is.
“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me, and I’ll punish you greatly for misbehaving. Now, are you going to come in with me and listen?”
“I hate you, and I don’t want anything to do with you,” I growl.
Markus rolls his eyes. “I saved your fucking life back at the cabin, and I’ve been protecting you when I could’ve just been fucking you. I’ve been kind to you, the only way I know how. I’m a fucking criminal, Fallon, in case you’ve forgotten. I bought you—paid money for your body. That doesn’t exactly say knight in shining armor, does it?”