by Gemma Weir
She’s naked and beaten, blood covering her perfect skin as she screams, thrashing against her bindings. I see the naked man between her legs, and an angry red mist descends. I surge forward, breaking out of the trees just as Livvy’s foot gets free and she kicks him in the head.
Startled, he rights himself and punches her in the face.
Like an animal, I roar with anger. I drop the shotgun and fly forward, tackling Livvy’s attacker to the ground.
His face comes into view. “Anderson?” I say, shocked. Wyatt takes advantage of my surprise and punches me in the face, his fist grazing my jaw. I launch myself at Wyatt and wrestle him onto his back. I throw my fist forward and hit him. Again and again, my fists swing, anger and fear fuelling me. His hands claw at the ground, his face a bloody mess, one eye swollen shut.
He grabs something from the dirt, his arm swinging up, and fire burns through my ribs. I glance down and see blood oozing from a wound on my skin. Wyatt’s face changes to a smug grin, and wrapping his hand around the hilt, he raises the knife above his head, laughs and lunges at me again.
An ear-shattering boom pierces the air.
Wyatt’s eyes widen, and his gaze drops to his chest as blood splutters from the hole in his torso. Life slips from his face, and he slumps, falling backwards into the dirt.
I turn. Gus stands behind us, his shotgun still pointed at Wyatt, smoke pluming from the barrel. Our eyes lock. He gives me a single nod, and I nod back. It’s the most I can do at the moment to acknowledge that he just saved both my and Livvy’s lives.
Livvy.
Scrambling to my feet, I run to her and fall to my knees by her side. I throw my phone to Gus and shout, “Call 911! Tell them to get police and an ambulance to meet us at the house.”
My hands shake as I frantically try to free her from the straps holding her to the table. I falter, unsure where to touch her bruised and bloody skin. The open wounds on her arms, stomach, and legs are running with fresh red blood. Bruises are already starting to cover her entire body, and her beautiful face is barely recognizable, one eye swollen completely shut.
I touch her neck; her pulse is weak, but there. Relief pours from me, and lifting her carefully into my arms, I stand and cradle my brave woman against my chest.
When I turn around, Gus’s gun is still pointed at Wyatt’s dead body. His eyes don’t move from the body when he speaks to me. “She—she alive?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Gus’s eyes close briefly. He turns away from Wyatt’s corpse, slips off his jacket and covers Livvy’s naked skin. Tormented tears pool in his eyes, and he lifts his hand to reach for her, but stills inches above her damaged body. “Take her. I’ll stay here with him till the police get here,” he says, his gruff voice cracking with emotion.
I nod and start to walk away before pausing to look back at Gus. “Thank you,” I say. He nods, and I quickly turn, rushing along the path towards the sound of sirens.
I emerge from the trees, the shrill call of sirens shattering the peace of my sleepy neighbourhood. Doors open and people peer out, eager to see what’s going on, but their eyes never look to where I’m hidden at the end of the row of houses.
The sirens get louder, and flashing lights herald the ambulance’s arrival. It screeches to a stop at the bottom of my driveway. Two paramedics jump out and rush towards us.
Livvy’s cradled to my chest, covered by Gus’s jacket but still exposed. Everything in my gut tells me to shelter her, not to release her in case she disappears. That this is all just a dream and she’s still with Anderson, being tortured and abused.
I tremble, fear and anger so closely mixed I’m unsure what I’m feeling.
“Sir, we need to look at the girl.” A young paramedic stands in front of me, his hands held out towards Livvy, and instinct has me pulling her further into my chest. “Sir, what’s her name? Can you tell me what happened?” the paramedic asks.
“Her name’s Olivia. She was kidnapped. He hurt her.” The paramedic nods and holds his palms upwards and towards me in a gesture of surrender. I stare down at Livvy. Her blood covers my arms, my shirt soaked and red. “Help her. Please help her,” I beg.
A female paramedic pulls a gurney from the back of the ambulance before rushing towards us. “Sir, you need to lay her on the bed so we can look at her,” she says. I nod, but my hands won’t release her. “Sir, we can help her. But only if you let her go.”
Reluctantly, I lay her on the stretcher, her pale body marred by bruises. The paramedics swarm around her, prodding and poking at my girl. “There’s a pulse. It’s weak, but I can feel it. We need to stop this bleeding fast,” the man says as the female rushes to the ambulance and comes back with a bag full of supplies.
My knees buckle. I’d felt her pulse, but hearing them confirm it, my legs give way and I fall to the ground.
More sirens blare, and the sheriff pulls alongside the ambulance. “Echo, what’s going on?” the sheriff asks.
Not taking my eyes from Livvy, I speak, my voice robotic. “Wyatt Anderson attacked my girl. He kidnapped her and took her into the woods. Tied her down and beat her, cut her with a knife over and over. He was about to rape her.” The words die in my mouth, and reality crashes down on me.
I reach for Livvy’s hand and grip her cool flesh between my fingers to reassure myself that she’s really here.
“Where’s Anderson now, son?” the sheriff asks.
I point in the direction of the woods. “Dead. Gus killed him. He’s in the woods guarding the body,” I say.
The sheriff signals to his deputies, sending them off into the woods. “Echo, you know I’m gonna need you to come in. Give a statement,” he says gently. I nod, and he places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.
“Sir, are you family?” the paramedics ask.
I reluctantly drag my eyes from Livvy’s still body and face the ambulance crew. “She’s mine,” I say.
They look at each other in confusion. “Are you family?” the female paramedic asks again.
My gaze moves back to Livvy as I answer. “Yes.”
The woman shrugs and turns to grab the end of the gurney, knocking off the brake. “You can come in the ambulance, or follow behind. But we need to take her now; she needs to be at the emergency room.”
“I’m not leaving her,” I growl.
They nod and start to wheel her towards the ambulance. I hear the roar of Sleaze’s bike as soon as he turns into the street. “Echo,” Sleaze shouts. He runs across the yard, reaching us in seconds. His eyes scan Livvy, and he pales. “Fuck, what the hell happened? Is she okay?”
I pull in a deep breath, turn to him, and speak. “She’s alive.”
“We need to go. Now,” the paramedic shouts. They hold the doors of the ambulance open, and I turn to leave, but Sleaze pulls me in for a tight hug.
“I’ll follow you to the hospital,” he assures me. Grateful, I climb into the ambulance, my eyes locking with Sleaze’s as they close the doors.
At the emergency room, they pull her away from me. “Livvy. Livvy! Where the fuck are you taking her? I need to be with her,” I shout.
The paramedic reaches for me. “Sir, she needs to be treated. You can’t go back there, I’m sorry. Someone will be out soon to let you know what’s happening.”
I’m not sure how long I wait. It feels like hours, but it could be minutes. I sit and stare at the doors, waiting for my beautiful girl to walk through them, back to me. Instead, doctors and nurses come and go, always rushing, always solemn.
Sleaze and Brandi arrive. Brandi runs at me, sobbing; I wrap her in my arms, my body trembling. “Oh God, Echo. I can’t believe this happened. How is she?” she cries.
Defeated, I drop my arms from her shoulders and scrub my hands across my eyes. “I don’t know. They took her, and no one will tell me what the hell’s happening. Just that they are treating her and they’ll come and speak to me once there’s an update.”
Sleaze pulls Brandi into his ch
est; our eyes lock, and he grips my shoulder in a silent show of support.
“Echo, what the hell happened to your side? You’re covered in blood,” Brandi asks, her voice filled with concern.
I glance down at my T-shirt. It’s wet with blood, the stain so dark it’s almost looks black. “I’m not sure whose blood it is. Anderson slashed me right before Gus killed him. It’s only a scratch. I’m fine.”
Brandi shakes her head and grabs a nurse, pointing out the wound. “Sir, I need to take a look at that,” the nurse says.
I shake my head and refuse. “I’m not going anywhere till I know what’s going on with my girl. They took her through those doors, and no one will tell me what’s happening.”
Brandi and the nurse look at each other briefly before turning their attention back to me. “Sir, if you let me have a look at that wound, as soon as I’ve finished, I’ll go and get an update on your girlfriend. Okay?” the nurse asks.
Reluctantly, I agree. “I’m not moving, so if you want to look, you’re gonna have to do it right here.” Pulling off my shirt, I sit on one of the waiting room chairs and carry on staring at the doors, waiting for Livvy.
True to her word, the nurse stitches me up and then disappears behind the doors. Ten minutes later, she comes back. “Your girlfriend is stable. They’ve stopped the bleeding from the knife wounds, but she’s pretty beaten up, so they’re having to run some tests to check for internal bleeding. She’s still unconscious but often the human body stays asleep to give itself time to heal,” she tells us.
She leaves, and my head falls forward into my hands. Brandi’s arms wrap around me, and we both cry quietly, comforting each other.
Time passes. The receptionist forces forms into my hands and asks me to fill them out for Livvy. I can’t answer most of the questions. I don’t know her address in England, or what blood type she is. I don’t know her medical history or if she’s allergic to anything.
There’s so much we still have to learn about each other. But I know the important things: she’s mine and I’m hers.
Time passes, the minutes ticking by. Brandi and Sleaze sit beside me, and all of us watch the doors for more news.
“Echo,” a voice calls. I turn and see a crowd of my brothers filtering into the waiting room. Park, Smoke, Daisy, Puck, and Blade stand stoically, their hands buried in their pockets. Nodding, I acknowledge their arrival but turn back to my vigil, waiting for the doors to open.
Sleaze gets up and speaks to my Sinners brothers. I hear their hushed voices, but I tune it out. They’re not important. All that’s important is my girl, behind those doors.
The police arrive, and since I refuse to leave my post, they take my statement in the waiting room. I tell them what happened, recounting how I found her.
Bruises.
Blood.
Knife.
Dead.
Visions of Livvy tied to that table while that sick fuck tortured her fill my mind, and rushing to the trash can, I vomit, acid burning the back of my throat.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Noise flickers at the back of my brain, tempting me to consciousness.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My fingers lie against a scratchy sheet. I curl my hand, and my limbs cooperate and twitch to life.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Light bleeds through my closed eyelids, and I try to open my eyes.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I pry my eyelids apart. The brightness hits me, and my head clenches in pain.
Something beeps softly; the room’s unfamiliar and clinical.
Breathing hurts, moving hurts, simply shifting my eyes hurts. In a barrage of images, I remember everything. Wyatt, pain, Miss Mimi, disgust. Fear, agony, blood, darkness.
I’m in a hospital. I’m not sure how I got here, but hospitals are safe, so I’m safe.
Wyatt. I shudder in revulsion. Where is he? How did I get here?
Echo.
I need him.
A nurse walks in, smiling when she sees me looking at her. “Welcome back, darlin’. My name’s Darlene, and I’ll be your nurse. Just give me two secs and I’ll page the doctor and let her know you’re awake.”
“Echo.” My voice is raspy, but she hears me.
“What’s that, sweetie?” she asks.
I try to clear my throat, but it comes out as a raspy cough. “Where’s Echo?”
She smiles brightly. “Is that the hunk of a man that’s out in the waiting room? The tall, tattooed drink of water?” she asks.
A single chuckle escapes me before I dissolve into a gravelly cough. “I need him. Please,” I beg.
She nods, understanding flashing in her eyes. “Of course, hon. I’ll page the doctor then go grab your man for you,” she says. I smile gratefully and she leaves the room.
I’ve been sitting out here for hours. It’s somewhere in the middle of the night, but I’ve lost track of the time. It means nothing while Livvy’s stuck behind those doors.
I owe Gus everything. He saved our lives, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my days trying to pay back that debt.
This was my fault.
She got attacked ’cause of me, ’cause I let her run from me that first night. The next morning, she ran straight into him. I knew Wyatt Anderson was a stupid little bastard, but I had no idea he was a fucking psycho.
The sheriff doesn’t think this is the first time he’s done this. Apparently, they’ve found other blood at the scene, older blood.
He’s dead.
I’m so fucking angry that I wasn’t the one to take that bastard down. When Livvy needed me, I was on the ground.
I didn’t protect her.
I let him take her. I let him hurt her.
This is all my fault.
I haven’t taken my eyes off the door. The nurses have told me that she’s stable, but that’s it.
I want to rage and shout. I want my girl. But security have already warned me they’ll kick me out if I try to force my way in again.
So I wait.
The doors open and a nurse walks through. She scans the room till she sees me, and her face breaks into a glorious smile.
“Are you Echo?” she asks. I stand and nod. “She’s asking for you.”
Echo barrels through the door. Our eyes lock and emotion rushes to the surface. Air stutters in my bruised lungs, and I start to sob. Tears blur my vision. I flinch when he touches me, but he gently wraps me in his arms.
“It’s okay, sugar, you’re safe now,” he says, stroking my hair and peppering gentle kisses on my head. “I’m so sorry, Livvy. I’m so sorry.”
Shaking uncontrollably, I can’t stop crying. I hurt. My skin’s tight, purple bruises mottling everywhere I can see. My right eye is swollen shut, but I see him. Tremors rack his chest and silent tears track down his cheeks. I pull my head back from his chest and look at him properly. “Echo,” I cry.
He reaches out, stopping an inch before he touches my face. “Please,” I beg. Pain is etched across his features, but he cups my chin and leans in until his lips touch mine. It’s barely a kiss, but the sensation stings the broken skin, and I hiss with pain.
His beautiful face pales. “Fuck, I’m sorry, sugar.” He pulls away, but I stop him, grabbing hold of his shirt. He stills, and I snuggle in close to his chest. He settles cautiously back against the bed, and I nestle into his arms with his lips kissing my hair and forehead like he’s reassuring himself that I’m really here.
“I love you.” My voice sounds weak and small, but I need to say the words and for him to hear them.
His whole body relaxes, his arms tightening and holding me to him. “I love you so much, Livvy. I’m so fucking sorry.”
The door opens and a doctor walks in, followed by Darlene the nurse. “Olivia, I’m Dr Ericson. It’s nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
; “I’m okay. I can’t open one eye, and I hurt, but I’m okay,” I say.
The doctor looks at Echo. “Sir, would you mind stepping out? I’d like to talk to Olivia in private.”
Echo starts to move, and panicked, I grab his shirt and shout, “No, I want him to stay.”
The doctor looks from me to him but eventually nods. “Okay, well, Olivia, you lost a lot of blood. We’ve stitched up your wounds, and hopefully, the scarring shouldn’t be too bad, but we have a great plastic surgeon on staff that is going to come take a look in the morning. You’ve been badly beaten, so you’re going to be in some pain, which we can help with. Your eye is very swollen, but in a day or two, that should reduce and you should be able to open it again. You’re showing no signs of internal bleeding, and all of the tests we’ve run have confirmed that.”
I nod and try to take in all of the information she’s giving me, but the pain starts to overwhelm me. “Olivia, when we examined you we found signs of sexual activity. We need to know if you were sexually assaulted. If you’d prefer to speak about this in private, that can be arranged,” the doctor says, her voice calm and emotionless.
I shake my head, feeling Echo holding his breath beneath me. “I don’t know. He hadn’t touched me. Like that. I think he was going to, but I got free and kicked him in the head. He punched me, and I don’t remember anything after that,” I say, my voice cracking.
“No, he didn’t rape her,” Echo says firmly.
“Echo, you don’t know that,” I say quietly.
“I do,” he says. “I saw you kick him. He knocked you unconscious just as I got there. He didn’t go near you again after that.” Relieved tears spill down my cheeks, and Echo kisses my head. “It’s okay, sugar, it’s okay. He’s never going to hurt you again.”
The doctor clears her throat, gaining our attention. “We’re going to give you something for the pain. We weren’t able to contact a next of kin, so would you like us to call anyone?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. Echo’s here, and the rest of my family are back in the UK.”