by James, Gemma
The guy’s screams would stay with me for the rest of my life, those terror-filled shrieks increasing as the sound of ripped flesh and tendon sliced through the night. I buckled over, spewing vomit onto the planks of wood underneath my muddy feet. A lesser man would have pissed himself too.
Shelton closed the short distance between us and wrenched me up by the hair. “I’m not in the business of hurting kids,” he said, “but if you fuck up again—if you sneeze too loud—I will feed your brat to the dogs. Are we clear, or do I need to show you another demonstration?”
Shelton’s remaining goon backed up, face going as pale as snow.
I shook my head, and despite shaking knees, straightened my spine and met the determination in Shelton’s cold eyes head-on. “We’re clear.”
He studied me for several long moments, his shrewd gaze a constant threat. Finally, he gave an imperceptible nod before pivoting on his heel, hand waving in the direction from where we’d come as he made his way down the stairs. “Put him back where he belongs,” he barked at his guy, “and make sure he stays there this time.”
11. SAVE YOURSELF
Alex
Zach slept like the dead, one arm slung over my stomach, secure in the knowledge that the shackle around my ankle would keep me at his side. The most I’d done was doze in fitful stages, awaking every hour, witnessing the night pass in slow agony as I confronted the numbers on the digital clock through bleary eyes.
He stretched beside me, and I felt the blanket of his gaze weighing me down. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“I really have to pee.” I lifted my ankle. “Can you unlock me?”
He wore the fucking key around his neck, just like Rafe. As he bent to free my foot, I averted my eyes. Watching Zach steal my husband’s role—using his key, taking over our house, sleeping in our bed—ignited an intolerable ache in my chest because Zach’s presence in this space tainted the memory of my wedding night.
Another piece of me fizzled out as I hurried into the bathroom, urgent to relieve my pissed-off bladder. By the time I finished my morning business, Zach had pulled on a pair of jeans. He sat at the end of the bed, still wearing the key around his neck.
I halted just out of his reach. “Is it okay if I cook us breakfast?”
The smile that flit across his lips was so…unguarded and earnest. He was desperate to latch onto the tiniest of hope that I’d forgive and forget. He was fucking insane, but I’d use it to my advantage.
“I’d love for you to cook. I miss your eggs.”
I bit back a snort. Did he not remember that I despised eggs? I could cook them, but they’d turn out barely edible. He gestured for me to exit the bedroom first, and when we reached the kitchen, adrenaline sizzled in my veins.
“It’ll only take me a few minutes to make breakfast.” I halted next to the eat-in nook, hoping he’d take the hint and sit. “Is scrambled okay?”
“Scrambled’s more than okay.” He accepted my silent cue, claiming the bench seat, and a relieved breath drifted off my lips.
I stood on tiptoe and reached for the pan, praying to God he would stay put and let me get my hands on the skillet. Slowly pulling it from the rack, I counted the seconds, ears peeled for the slightest of sounds.
The rustle of denim.
A bench leg scraping a fraction of an inch.
His booming voice demanding I put down my makeshift weapon.
But nothing happened, and I let out a stuttered breath as I set the skillet onto the stove. Opening the fridge, I let my hair obscure my face as I bent to retrieve the eggs, worried he’d figure me out if he glimpsed my expression.
Just breathe, Alex. Five in, hold, five out. Repeat.
“I could get used to watching you fix me breakfast naked. You’re so fucking sexy. You have no idea.”
As I cracked the shells and dumped the contents into a bowl, I sensed the burden of his stare on my backside. “Orange juice okay, or do you want milk?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Two orange juices coming up.” While the pan finished heating, I grabbed two plates and set the table, and he grabbed my hand.
“I love seeing you like this.” Slowly, he let my fingers slip from his, a goofy smile transforming his lips.
“What do you mean?”
“Relaxed. You seem…kinda happy, Lex.”
God, he was blind. It took every last bit of mental fortitude to hold on to the facade, to plan my attack without hyperventilating. I wandered back to the stove and began whisking the eggs.
“I’m just glad to be out of that prison.”
“I’d never lock you up like that.”
“You wouldn’t?” The question came out weak with nervousness as I poured the mixture of eggs into the pan. “Where are you planning to take me after we leave here?”
He didn’t answer at first. “I have a cabin in the mountains.”
Another fucking cabin.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Another stretch of silence, and then he cleared his throat. “We leave tonight, Lex.” He shifted, and I froze, praying to God he wasn’t leaving that seat.
Five in, hold, five out.
Before I could repeat the ritual, I turned and faced him, wiping my face of the terror heating under the surface of my calm, same as the damn eggs. But Zach still sat on that bench, comfortable in his certainty that he’d won.
And he would if I didn’t do something fast. I had less than twelve hours to turn the tables on him, to save myself before he took me away from the island forever. He might not have plans to lock me inside a cage, but he’d keep me prisoner just the same. The fact that he thought that somehow made him better was laughable.
I’d willingly given Rafe the key to my freedom. Zach had stolen it, and no amount of twisting the truth would change what he’d done.
Every muscle tensed in preparation. I wasn’t sure I had the balls to go through with the idea simmering in my mind, but I didn’t have much choice. I had to be strong—had to keep fighting—even if the fear of getting caught paralyzed me.
“How did you get the cabin?”
“Let’s just say Shelton paid me well while you were gone.”
By gone, he meant he’d been unable to find me.
“So he just welcomed you back with open arms?”
“Not exactly. I had information he wanted.” He paused a beat too long. “We came to an understanding.”
“Such as?”
He averted his eyes, and the shame tinting his face surprised me. “I knew about Rafe’s kid.”
“How?”
“Dad’s known about him for years.”
His admission seemed to reverberate off the walls, and a chill traveled down my spine. “So instead of selling your soul to the devil, you sold Rafe’s son.”
“I’m not proud of it, Lex. But I needed a fucking ally, and Shelton has connections. The guy set me up with a whole new identity. Plus, I needed to find you, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“I was right where I was supposed to be.” The eggs finished cooking, and before I could second guess what came next—the what-ifs and all the things that could go wrong—I carried the skillet toward Zach. “I was with Rafe.”
“You should have been with me.”
“No,” I said, voice shaking, “I should have killed you when I had the chance.” Gripping the pan with both hands, I swung with all I had and brought it down on Zach’s head with a sickening thud as hot eggs went flying.
He slumped to the floor, and I followed up the first strike with several more. Tears streaked down my cheeks as blood pooled around his head. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, pounded at my temples. A whole minute passed before I let the skillet slip from my trembling grip. Another thirty seconds creeped by before I found the courage to check for a pulse.
And when I found one, I didn’t know whether to be relieved, or disappointed. The fucker was still alive, and that spurred me into a frantic mode as all t
he movies I’d watched over the years flooded my consciousness—the type of movies where the heroine got the upper hand but took too fucking long, giving the bad guy a second chance at miraculous bad timing.
I snatched the key from around his neck before digging into his pocket for my ring. As I slid the jade stone back onto my finger where it belonged, Zach groaned, making me jump several feet in the opposite direction.
I needed time.
I needed to feel safe again.
Grabbing him by the arms, I grunted under his weight and dug my heels in. Finally, his body slid across the floor by a couple of inches, spreading blood in his wake. I sucked in another breath and hefted him a few more inches.
Then a few more.
Dragging him to the cellar door was an arduous, endless trip, and every twitch and groan from him drove me closer to the edge of sanity. It took four tries of jabbing the key into the doorknob before the lock clicked over, and I was able to shove the door open.
Sweat bathed my skin on the journey down, each step a lesson in exertion, and I cringed every time his head thudded on a step. My muscles screamed in protest as I dragged his limp body across the concrete and into the prison.
I could barely breathe or see straight through the tears and sweat. Gritting my teeth, I confiscated the remote to the collar, along with Rafe’s cell phone. The instant I worked the key into the locking mechanism at the back of my hairline, and the choker opened, I finally breathed again.
Finally hoped again.
Studying Zach’s prone figure on the ground, I considered my options. The quicker I locked him inside the cage, the better. But goddamn it, I wanted the collar around his neck. I wanted him to feel the same terror I’d experienced, the same hopelessness of someone else literally having him by the throat.
Lifting his head, I slipped the choker around his neck and worked at closing the device, and that’s when he groaned once more.
“Lex…”
The lock clicked into place, and I got the hell out of there, glorifying in the finality of that prison door slamming shut between us.
And I vowed that he would never get his hands on me again.
12. THE CAVALRY
Alex
The hardwood under my feet burned through my skin, as if Zach’s presence in the cellar had the power to set the cabin on fire. Restless energy zinged along my nerve endings. I hadn’t thought of calling the cops. Instead, I’d called Jax from Rafe’s phone an hour ago.
Several more would slip by before he arrived, because he and Angel were in California.
I’d taken a shower in the bathroom on the main floor, desperate to wash Zach off from last night, but I hadn’t found the courage yet to venture upstairs to the loft bedroom to search for clothing.
Too many memories.
Some amazingly good, others horrifyingly bad.
Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath and held it, envisioning climbing those stairs. The idea of entering my own bedroom shouldn’t cause so much anxiety, but that room held so much pain within its unassuming walls.
Rafe and I had consummated our marriage within that space.
And Zach had destroyed the memory by raping me.
With a shake of my head, I exhaled in a rush. This was ridiculous. Zach was locked up downstairs, incapable of hurting me. Hell, he could be dead by now for all I knew. It wasn’t like I’d checked on him in the last hour. I was sure Jax would have words for Zach when he got here, but until then, I didn’t care if I ever set eyes on Zach again.
But I did care about covering my nakedness. After spending the past several days in the nude, the idea of clothing was a luxurious concept. Pulling another breath deep into my lungs, I climbed the first step, unsure of how I’d handle the first sight of the loft bedroom now that I’d broken free of Zach.
My heartbeat tripled at the threshold, hands clutching the doorframe for support. Thankfully, a blanket of numbness shielded me from emotion, allowing me the few precious seconds I needed to find a change of clothing in the unlocked drawers and return downstairs. I dressed in haste as the sun beamed on my head through the windows in the living room.
How the sky could be so bright and blue on a day like this, I didn’t know. The absence of Rafe was a tangible entity haunting me, causing a crushing pain in my chest. I slid to the floor next to the windows and watched the sun slowly sink toward the horizon.
That’s where Jax and Angel found me hours later, hollowed on the inside.
“What happened?” Jax crouched in front of me, his hand covering mine.
I lifted my head and met the inquiry in his blue gaze. “He destroyed everything.”
Jax blinked before gazing around the cabin, confusion drawing his brows together. His eyes settled on me again in silent question.
“Inside me,” I rasped through the lump in my throat. I laced our fingers and brought our entwined hands to my chest, where my heart throbbed underneath. “He destroyed me here.” My lashes fluttered, dispensing despair down my cheeks. “We were so fucking happy, Jax. So happy…”
Sucking in a quick breath, Jax pulled me into his arms. “Zach’s in the cellar?”
Through my sobs, I nodded. “I don’t kn-know where Rafe is.”
Jax inched back, and I noticed Angel standing behind him with a steaming mug gripped between her hands. “I made you some tea.”
“Th-thank you,” I said, accepting the mug as Jax settled beside me.
“I’ll bring Rafe home. I promise you that.” Jax brushed the shaggy hair from his forehead. “I need you to tell me everything you know.”
I told him how I’d awoken the morning after the wedding and found Zach in the kitchen. Told him everything Zach had bragged about—Shelton, Rafe’s son, Zach’s plan to take me off the island.
Every fucking detail except for the rapes.
But Jax didn’t press me for those, and for that, I was grateful because recounting what Zach had done would likely send me into a worse breakdown.
Digging his cell out of the pocket of his jeans, Jax rose to his feet. “I’m going to make some calls.” He nodded in Angel’s direction. “Will you stay with her while I go downstairs?”
“Sure.” Angel’s soft voice whispered through my head as she took the spot Jax had just vacated. “Do you need anything?”
“I just need my husband back.”
“Jax will find him. I know he will.”
“How…how long has it been since the wedding?”
She raised a perfectly arched brow. “You don’t know?”
“I lost count.”
“It’s been six days.”
Six days.
It felt longer.
It felt like a fucking lifetime. Unable to speak, I took a sip of the tea, hoping it would sooth the ache in my throat.
She drew her knees to her chest. “How long have you been sitting here?”
I glanced through the windows at the dark sky. The sun had set long before Jax and Angel arrived. “All day, I guess.”
We sat in silence for a while, and that’s one of the things I liked about her. We didn’t need words to fill the endless space between us. She’d been through her own brand of hell, so she knew more than most people about the horrors of trauma.
She knew that sometimes the best thing you could do for someone was offer silent support.
“Are you hungry?”
I didn’t feel hungry, but there’d been a dull cramp in my belly for days from lack of food and the stress of Zach’s mind games. “I guess I am.”
She rose to her feet and held out a hand. “C’mon. I’ll make you something.” Her blue gaze lowered to my abdomen. “You should eat. If not for you then for the baby.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she nibbled on her lip, brows furrowing in concern. “I didn’t even ask if…if everything’s okay?”
“The baby’s fine,” I said, using her offered hand to hoist myself to my feet. “But I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Your secret’s safe wit
h me.”
She’d told me as much the day I’d taken the pregnancy test, and she’d been with me. There were few people in this world I trusted, but Angel was definitely one of them.
We entered the kitchen, and she skidded to a stop, attention zeroing in on the floor where I’d spilled Zach’s blood. “What happened here?” she asked, lifting her gaze to mine, eyes wide.
“It’s Zach’s. I hit him over the head with a skillet.” I paused long enough to let out a shuddery breath. “That’s how I got him into the cellar.”
That was how I’d saved my own ass, and probably Rafe’s as well, because if he were capable of coming home, he would have done so by now. It was that disquiet realization, sneaking up on me with the power of a semi, that weakened my knees. Stepping over the blood, I crumpled onto the bench seat before I lost the strength to stand.
“Do you have a mop? I can clean it up.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where everything is. Just leave it.” Besides, that crimson-smeared floor was evidence of my survival.
Evidence that this wasn’t a dream.
Angel didn’t say anything as she began perusing the cupboards and the fridge, but I didn’t miss the stricken expression taking hold of her features, gaze landing on the blood every few seconds.
But I’d made it. I was sitting here, about to eat dinner, fully clothed and free of Zach. On the outside, I didn’t look any different.
The inside was a whole other matter.
Zach had left his imprint, seared new scars into my soul, pulled off scabs from old wounds I thought had healed.
“I’m not very good in the kitchen,” she said, filling a pot with water.
“That’s okay. Neither am I.”
She made boxed mac and cheese, and nothing had ever tasted so good—that’s when I realized how starved I was. I’d finished off a second bowl when Jax appeared from the cellar.
I dropped my fork, and Angel froze.
He stood in the archway, face spattered in blood, bruised knuckles forming fists at his sides.