Forever Only Once: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

I froze, my whole body shaking.

  “And Macon?” Chris asked, his throat working hard as he swallowed.

  “Kill him. I don’t care. Just take care of the building. Then get back to me. If you want the money.”

  Chris looked frozen for a second, as if he didn’t know what to do, but then he was off. Fear crawled over me, its silky fist smooth around my throat, my heart, everything.

  “That’s a good girl,” Thomas said, his hand around my throat.

  I didn’t move because I wasn’t sure what they were going to do with Macon—or what they would do with me.

  “I waited so long for you, Hazel. Why did you leave me? You should’ve stayed with me. You tried to get away. I found you. Then you sent me to jail. Why?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he slapped me again. Tears stung my eyes.

  “No. This isn’t the time for you to speak. We’re done with that.” He turned away from me before facing me once more.

  “You’re going to listen. You put me in jail. How could you do that to me? I was everything to you. I was yours. You took my gifts for granted and spat in my face. You were always a whore, I knew that going in. But I took care of you. I always cherished you. But instead of accepting my benevolence, you threw it in my face.”

  He started to pace, and I looked around the old cabin, trying to figure out exactly how I could get out. But I couldn’t.

  There was nothing I could do. Maybe if I moved my hand a little bit towards the side, I could figure a way out of these bindings he’d just put me in.

  But I had to be careful because he was watching me. Like always, he was watching me.

  “I did good. For you. I stayed away just long enough for you to miss me. But then you were with him. That fucking asshole. You like beards and being a whore? I didn’t realize that about you. You fucking whore.”

  He hit me again, and tears slid down my cheeks, my entire body racked with pain.

  “Look what you made me do. You’re making me hurt you because you just don’t understand what I need. You used to. But now, you don’t.”

  He let out a breath, then continued. “I married you because you were mine. Our families were always associated, and your parents gave you to me. You were a gift. My perfect gift, and then you threw me away.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Thomas. You have to stop. Please. Don’t take this any further.”

  “I said, shut up!”

  He slapped me again, the sting warm against my cooling flesh.

  “I’ve always watched you. I’ve always known where you are. No matter how safe you thought you were online, you were never safe enough. I texted you. Told you I saw you. Because I always see you, pet. But you never returned my texts. And when I got out, you never visited. When I got past my lazy parole officer and drove all the way here to find you, you weren’t waiting. You had your little security system at your home like you used to for me in our game, but I still got through. I had ways. I was always good at that. You remember. I had money, yes, but I am also brilliant. You know that. You know that I learned computer hacking and other games for us to play.”

  Games? He thought my fear was a game.

  I’d never been so wrong in my life. I’d never screwed up as badly as I had when I fell for Thomas. And now I was paying the price.

  And Macon was, too.

  “I came here for you. For us. And where did I find you? Fucking another man in our bed!”

  I’d thrown away the bed I’d shared with him, but I didn’t say that. It didn’t matter. He was in his own world now, and I was only a pawn.

  “You were supposed to be my perfect wife. It’s going to take me way too long to teach you the ways of how I need you to be now. Why do you have to be so difficult?”

  I didn’t open my mouth to speak this time. He didn’t expect an answer.

  “All I wanted was you, and you lied. You put me in jail. I suffered because of you. Now, you’re going to suffer through every little thing that I was forced to endure inside that jail cell. That prison cell,” he amended, his voice shrill.

  “I hate you, but yet, I love you. You’re going to learn to love me. And you’re going to forget that bearded asshole. You’re going to forget him, and you’re never going to want him again. I was always the one for you. You let him fuck you, I’ll just fuck you harder. You let him touch you, I’ll scrape every inch of skin off your body.”

  Fear slammed into me, and my whole body shook, my stomach revolting, bile filling my mouth.

  “I see you get it.” A sick grin twisted his lips.

  “You were always mine, yet you dared to give yourself to another. Now, you’ll pay the price.”

  Chris interrupted from the doorway. “First, though, I need my money. Let’s get that business done. I didn’t want this. Not this blood and shit. But we’re here, and I need my money from Cross’s accounts. From my accounts.” My head turned to him at the same time Thomas’s did. My eyes widened, and I wondered what the hell he was doing. Cross had said that Chris had stolen from him, but this?

  There was blood on his hands, and I looked down at them, tears falling freely from my eyes. He smelled like smoke and gasoline.

  And Macon wasn’t with him.

  Cross’s brother was dead, all because of me. All of this was because of me.

  “I’ve got your payment right here.”

  There was another shot, and Chris’s gaze went from surprised to glassy in an instant as he fell to his knees, part of his head blown off, blood and brain matter coating the wall behind him.

  I opened my mouth and screamed.

  Chapter 18

  Cross

  * * *

  The sound of the gunshot ricocheted in my ears, and I froze for a second. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be her. She had to be alive. This wasn’t fucking happening.

  I kept going, doing my best to head to where I had heard the shot. There were drag marks in the ground. Was it her? It had to be. The tracks looked too fresh. I wasn’t an actual tracker, I had never been hunting, but I could follow these. They were so prevalent that I couldn’t not follow them.

  I knew the cops and others were following me, or at least they would be soon. I was stupid for coming out on my own, but I couldn’t just leave her here. I had no weapon, I had nothing, but I had myself.

  I couldn’t let her be alone. Not after everything that had happened to her.

  I kept going and turned a corner, following the path the tracks had made. I stumbled into a tree as I looked in front of me. I knew this area. Had walked back here before. The lights of the cabin in front of me were on, but only by a couple lanterns. She had to be in there. And I knew she wasn’t alone.

  I dropped to my knees, just in case someone was looking out the window, and finally got a good look at the door.

  It was open, light shining like a beacon in the dark. My heart stopped.

  There was a body there, feet out the door, blood pooling. I knew those shoes.

  Jesus Christ, it was Chris.

  And Chris wasn’t moving.

  And then I heard a man screaming, and a woman whimpering, and I knew who that was.

  It was Hazel, my Hazel.

  Jesus Christ.

  There was no more time to think or plan because they were shouting again. Then I heard another gunshot and immediately got to my feet.

  I didn’t know what I was doing, and I knew I would likely get myself killed, but I had to save her. I had to do something. I wasn’t some tragic hero in a thriller movie, who had a weapon and knew what the fuck I was doing.

  All I had was myself, and what little time we had left.

  I ran and jumped over Chris’s body, ignoring the brains and the blood and whatever the fuck else was around him, and slammed into the man looming over Hazel.

  I threw myself on top of the man who had to be Thomas—who else would it be?—even though I had no idea what he would be doing here or why. Thankfully, the shadows from the window g
ave me a sense of where everybody was positioned so I could hit my mark.

  Hazel screamed, and I saw her thrashing on the floor, moving her hands as if she were trying to break free of restraints.

  I landed on top of the other man, and the gun fell to the floor, sliding across the wood planks.

  “You fucking bastard,” the other man growled beneath me and punched out. I didn’t have time to move off him quickly enough, so the fist landed on my jaw. But I didn’t move, I hit him back, and then again.

  We rolled on the floor, the man larger than me, apparently having used the weights at the prison long enough to bulk up.

  But maybe this wasn’t even Thomas.

  It didn’t matter who he was.

  This man had shot my brother, had killed Chris, and had Hazel.

  Fuck this shit.

  “Cross, watch out!” I ducked the other man’s fist at Hazel’s warning, and then punched him again, this time hard enough that the guy’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out, his whole body going lax.

  I staggered to my feet, leaving him where he fell, and ran towards Hazel.

  “Baby, oh my God.”

  “Quick, help me get out of these, I’m almost out of the restraints, but they’re digging into my right wrist, and I can’t get free.”

  She was rambling, not making much sense. I needed to run my hands over her and catalog every single cut and bruise. There were so many. She was covered in blood, her face bruised, and I knew there were probably more injuries I couldn’t see.

  That fucker.

  “Let’s get you out of here. The cops are on their way.”

  “Good. Macon. I’m so sorry, Cross. Thomas. It was Thomas. My ex. He shot Macon.”

  I froze, my hands shaking. Her ex? It was her ex. Fucking hell. My mind went in a million different directions and I didn’t know what to say, what to think, so I didn’t. She was safe—or would be. And my brother had to be safe. There was no other option. I pushed all of those thoughts from my brain, however jumbled they were, and finally answered.

  “The cops should have him by now. He should be safe,” I said.

  At least, I hoped so.

  I’d left my brother bleeding and to be handled by strangers so I could save Hazel. I never would have forgiven myself if either of them had died.

  My hands were shaking as I got her out of the final restraint, and then I lifted her to her feet, both of us moving to get out of there.

  Suddenly, there was a noise behind me. I turned, covering Hazel with my body as the shot rang out.

  Fire singed my side, and I staggered back, falling to my knees. I felt Hazel’s hands on my back as if she were trying to catch me, but I was too heavy for her.

  Blood flowed from my side, and I looked down and cursed.

  The guy had been faking. Or, I hadn’t hit him hard enough.

  I looked up as the other man sneered at me, blood covering his chin and forehead from where I had hit him, his arm trembling, and the gun shaking in his hand.

  “She’s mine,” he growled out.

  “Never yours,” Hazel whispered.

  I tried to reach out to her, attempted to tell her that we’d make it out, that we’d be safe, but everything was going dark. I cursed under my breath.

  I was losing blood too quickly. I just had to hope like hell that the cops would get here soon.

  They had to have followed where I had gone. Followed the sounds. The drag marks left such an easy trail.

  Hopefully, Frank could tell them where I had gone. And Macon, too. After all, he had told me.

  I couldn’t really think right then, though. All I knew was that I needed to make sure Hazel was going to be okay. And my baby brother. And everyone else.

  But I couldn’t focus.

  “Come closer to me, Hazel. Get closer to me, and I won’t hurt him again. But you keep touching him, and I’ll shoot him right in the fucking head.”

  “I’m fine, don’t listen to him. Save yourself,” I whispered.

  “So valiant. And yet, she’ll still come to me. She always will.”

  And then Hazel squeezed my shoulder just a bit before she stood on shaky legs. I tried to reach out to her, but my hands slid against her blood-slick ones, and I cursed.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she said, her voice far stronger than I thought possible.

  “As long as you’re mine, I won’t hurt anyone else.”

  And then she moved forward as the other man held out his arm for her.

  I tried to stop her, but I was too weak, the blood loss taking over. When he tugged on her hair, I shouted, and she screamed. Then, everything moved almost too fast to track.

  He moved towards her, gun still trained on me, but then she moved, elbowing him in the gut, kicking him in the knee. Thomas shouted.

  I got to my feet, ignoring the pain, forgetting about the blood loss, but it was too late.

  The gun went off again. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe. But I still kept moving, kept going.

  Because Hazel was there, the gun in her hand, her whole body shaking, and Thomas was on the floor, looking up at her with wide eyes, blood blossoming on his chest.

  Carefully, she set the gun on the floor, out of reach of anyone, and I went to her, my knees going weak. I fell at her feet, and she came to me, holding me close. I couldn’t say anything.

  Because death surrounded us. So much blood, so much horror.

  I saw death in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, though I didn’t know what there was to say.

  Finally, when I heard other voices, and the sound of the authorities finally arriving, I just held her close and hoped to hell that we could get through this.

  I didn’t know how, though. I wasn’t sure we could.

  And as I looked at her face, I didn’t know if she believed we could either.

  Chapter 19

  Hazel

  * * *

  “That’s all for now, Miss Noble. We’ll get back with you if we have more questions, but from a personal standpoint, I want to apologize that any of this happened. I’m sorry that you had to go through this.”

  I looked up into the kind eyes of the detective and nodded, giving him a smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment.

  When the detectives left my hospital room, the questions done for now, I looked down at my hands and wondered why they weren’t stained with blood.

  They should be. After all, I had killed a man. I had been covered with more blood than my own over the course of the evening, and no matter how much antiseptic shower gel slid over my body, it would never be enough to wash it away.

  I had Macon’s blood on me, perhaps some of Chris’s, Cross’s, mine, and then Thomas’s.

  So much blood.

  When the cops came, everything moved so quickly, it had taken me a moment to catch up.

  Somehow, they had gotten the story of what had happened without arresting me in the process.

  I was a little surprised about that. Apparently, Frank, whoever that kind stranger had been, had explained everything to them.

  And they had taken me away to heal up, not to jail. They had hurried Cross into surgery. Macon, as well.

  Chris was dead, a bullet to the head with his brains splattered against the wall.

  And Thomas was now dead, too.

  I had pierced his heart with a single bullet, hot, molten steel sliding through his body as it took his soul, his life, and a part of me with it. Not because I loved him, but because I’d been the one to take the shot in the end.

  I had killed a man.

  And I didn’t know what to do about that.

  I could remember every single abuse and injury that I had sustained when I was with Thomas the first time.

  I couldn’t remember every little shove and degrading comment, but I remembered most of them.

  That had been a part of my life for so long. Somehow, I had found a way to mov
e on and become a new person.

  But then he’d come back, and now here I was, covered in his blood—even though it had been washed away—coated in the blood of so many. Perhaps there was no coming back from this.

  How was I supposed to live in a world where I was a murderer? I knew they wouldn’t call me that. They would say that I had protected myself and others, that it had been self-defense. I would never see jail time because how could I when it wasn’t my fault?

  But that was a lie, wasn’t it? This was all my fault.

  If I had stayed away, not gotten involved with Cross, then Thomas wouldn’t have become so jealous. Clearly, he had already found me. I should have known that he wouldn’t be content to only use texts or his friends to harass me.

  He had become jealous and wanted me back in any way he could.

  He had found Chris, a tie to Cross. Had somehow convinced him to come to his side. Although, in reality, maybe it hadn’t taken too much convincing. Just dollar signs for a man who thought he was already losing everything when Cross dissolved the partnership.

  But now Chris was dead. There would be no more partnership.

  Chris had cloned Cross’s phone to lure me to the shop. Had likely known somehow, deep down, what would happen to me, but he hadn’t cared.

  Still, I didn’t want the man to die.

  I didn’t want death on my hands at all. But now, I was covered in it.

  It wasn’t just on my soul, it was on every inch of my body, on every ounce of breath I held within me.

  Chris had burned the shop to the ground, the gasoline he used only a small accelerant to what was already inside the building. After all they used wood for their work. The place was gone, so much of Cross’s livelihood and work gone in an instant.

  And if Macon hadn’t crawled his way out of the building to try and find me, to attempt to get help, he would probably be dead, too.

  But Frank and the others had found him. This miraculous man named Frank, who had kept Macon alive until the paramedics showed up.

  Now, Macon was in surgery, the doctors doing their best to repair the bullet wound in his chest.