by Hart, Rebel
I just assumed they wouldn't understand.
I’m sorry, Dad.
I never gave Hannah a chance either. As the back of my chair hit the bottom of the pool, my lungs felt as if they were on fire. Panic gripped my chest. I felt my stomach jumping again, and I tried with all my might to get it to settle. I wanted to apologize to Hannah. For not listening to her. For not talking to her. For not opening up and letting her in on what I was thinking. What I was feeling. What I really wanted out of my life. I had made assumptions about everyone, just like they had about me. And because I thought I was in the right, I assumed they were all in the wrong.
I guess you were all right, and I’m sorry.
My eyes blinked again. I didn’t want to miss a moment of this. I didn’t want to miss a moment of the sky undulating before me. I didn’t want to miss a moment of recompense as I apologized for my sins. Grief filled my body, overtaking the burning sensation that made me want to accept my fate. I wondered what had happened to Max. Had they killed him already? Were they about to incinerate his body like the other man tonight? I wanted to know. I needed to know. But I felt the leather tightening even further around my wrists. Around my ankles.
Giving me no hope of escaping by myself.
I’m sorry, Max.
I wanted to be stronger for him. I wanted to be better for him. I wanted to be the woman of his dreams. But instead, I ended up being the wounded, hunted animal that became his demise. I blinked again. I felt the water brushing my tears away. I wanted my father. I wanted my Daddy. I wanted him to reach down into the water and pull me back to the surface. I wanted someone to jump in. Anyone. I wanted someone to come save me.
Please, Max. I’m begging you.
I blinked again, and the sky was blocked out by a shadowed figure. A dark, lanky figure, with two green specks near the top. Max’s father. Ashton. He was staring at me from the edge of the pool. Blocking out my dying view of the sky. Forcing me to relive the hell that had unfolded tonight. His wavy form waved at me. I watched his hand move side to side. As if to say ‘goodbye’ himself.
Then he stepped away.
My lungs jumped. My throat moaned. My stomach pulled in and my toes flexed. I screwed my eyes shut and willed myself to hang on just a few seconds longer. Just a few more seconds until someone could get to me. I puffed out my chest and girded my abs. I forced my mind to fall blank so my panic wouldn’t override my body’s natural need to survive. I felt my head spinning. I felt my arms going numb. My thighs tingled and my calves ached and I hadn’t been able to feel my feet for a while now.
Just a little bit longer.
Images popped into my mind. Images of my father, smiling down at me. My mother, hugging me with my college acceptance letter in her hand. The three of us sitting around a table talking about my future. Discussing my options. Laying out the pros and cons. I saw Hannah. An image from my first day on campus. I saw her standing in our empty dorm room with her immaculate decorations and her sparkling jewelry and her makeup sprawled out over her working desk.
I saw Max. Standing on the other side of the road. Sucking down a cigarette as the soft light illuminated his face.
I love you, Max.
Then, I succumbed to my destiny. Accepting my fate, accepting the moment, and allowing my body to relax.
I’m sorry. I’m just not strong enough.
40
Max
“Maaaaaaaax!”
I whipped my head up and saw my father looking off into the distance. With his hands balled up at his sides, I watched him turn around. And when my eyes gravitated beyond him, something struck me I’d never felt before.
Hopelessness.
“DANI!”
A man crammed his shoulder into my side and took me down. The sound of her hitting the water started the clock ticking down in my head. A minute. I had a minute to get to her. Sixty seconds. And these five assholes wouldn't even let me breathe. No matter what punches I threw, no matter what bones I crunched, they kept coming. Kept doling shit out.
And my father watched it all with a smile on his face.
I threw my elbow back as time counted down in my head. If Dani was the amazing swimmer I thought she was, I had maybe a minute and a half. The compromise of seventy-five seconds started ticking down in my head.
Seventy four. Seventy three. Seventy two.
If I wanted to save Dani, I had to barrel through these men. I’d have to tear through my father. But it took me damn near ten minutes just to get them unloaded of all their weapons. Guns without magazines littered the ground. Knives I’d smashed into the concrete, rendering them useless, took so much fucking energy out of my bones. But with the splashing of water as the pool buried her beneath its crystal cave, a third round of anger fueled my strength.
Causing me to charge through the men.
Sixty-five. Sixty-four. Sixty-three.
I started for my father before someone wrapped their arm clear around my neck. I coughed and sputtered, and I heard my father’s laughter fall heavily against my ears. I brought my hands up to the guy’s forearm and dug my jagged nails in. I raked down, feeling his skin give way. Feeling it gather beneath my fingers. He howled in pain as I bit down, ripping a chunk of muscle clear away from his bone.
Like I had done with Benji’s cheek.
Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven.
“All right. You guys want pain? You’ve got it.”
I cracked my knuckles and spun around. The only thing I knew was hurt. The only thing I smelled was death. Blood spattered against me as I sank my knuckles into the first face I found. Ribs broke against my toes as my boots went flying into their stomachs. Arms flew about. Legs caved in on one another. I rushed back into the mass of men trying to take me down. Determined to be the only one standing by the end of it. I counted down the numbers in my head. I felt Dani’s life slipping through my fingers. And as one of the men charged me with a knife I hadn’t found, I reached for his forearm.
I spun around, tucking his arm underneath my armpit.
And I broke that son of a bitch’s wrist as the knife fell from his hand.
“Fuck!” he roared.
Forty-three. Forty-two. Forty-one.
I was running out of time. I still had four men coming at me as well as my father to contend with. I fought without mercy. I crushed everything in my path. My sole purpose was pain. My final destination was death. Even if I had to drown my father with my own hands, so long as it got me in that pool with Dani, I didn’t give a shit about it. I throttled my hand into some man’s windpipe. His head wrenched back as I threw my elbow behind me. Another man grunted in pain as someone else came at me, and I wrapped my arm around his neck.
Before snapping it.
Thirty-two. Thirty-one. Thirty.
“She’s running out of time, you know!”
My father’s taunting voice rattled around in my head. I wouldn't be surprised if I looked up to see him jerking off to all this fucking chaos. That man would get the worst of me. That much was for certain. And as my eyes whipped up, I saw yet another man coming at me, his fists at the ready. I stuck both of my hands out and curled my fingers against my palm, except for my thumbs. And when the man was within arm’s reach, I sank my thumbs into his eyes until blood seeped down his face.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-six. Twenty-five.
Every time I put a man on the ground, I thought about her. About how scared she must feel. About the pain she must be in. I pushed through my own to get to her. Because I had to. There was no other choice. I promised her I would protect her. I promised her I’d take care of her. I loved her. I was head over heels in love with Dani. She was my everything, and I was nothing without her.
Twenty-one. Twenty. Nineteen.
The rational part of me chastised me the entire time. With every drop of blood I drew, I knew I wouldn't have been in this situation had I kept a lid on things. I disconnected myself from my emotions for a reason. I didn’t care about shit for a reaso
n. I never let people into my life for a reason. But Dani had been relentless. Always running into me, as if she thought she was being cute. As if I didn’t know she was actively seeking me out. I knew it from the second time I’d ever laid eyes on her. She looked for any reason to be around me. Any reason to look out for me. She kept her head on a swivel for me. And it was that determination that wore me down.
It was that perseverance that made me weak to her.
Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.
I hated myself for caring too much. For breaking my rules. For falling in love and making her a target. It was my fault she was in this position. It was my fault that she had gotten into the crosshairs of my father. I wouldn’t let her die for me, though. I wouldn’t let her go down for this. If anyone deserved to die, it was me. If anyone needed to die, it should be me.
Not her.
Not the only shred of beauty that had ever come into my world.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Time was running out. It was now or never. With a guttural roar, I picked my foot up and bashed it into the face of the only other man coming for me. I watched his teeth splatter against the grass. I heard him moaning in pain as his body jumped and writhed. I hated my father for using her like this. For using her as bait against me. I knew she’d be a risk. I knew she’d be a weakness. And I’d pursued it anyway. Selfishness drove me to her.
But love would bring us back together.
Seven. Six. Five.
“Not so fast.”
I charged my father, ready to knock him into the pool. Until he pulled a gun out of the holster on his hip. I panted for air. Heaved for it, really. And as the men on the ground that were still alive groaned out in misery, my eyes fell to his gun.
Four. Three. Two.
Time seemed to stand still. My father approached me, moving away from the edge of the pool. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. I felt him press the barrel of the gun against my chest. My heart hammered against my sternum. His smile faded, and something akin to sorrow replaced it.
Which was impossible. Because my father didn’t understand what it was like to feel sorry for anything.
“You can do whatever you want with me. Just let me get her first,” I said.
Dad cocked his head. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
I refused to answer him and I heard that telltale tick.
“It would do you well to answer me,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “Yes. I do.”
He snickered. “And here I thought my son was just a one-pump-and-done kind of man.”
My nose twitched. “Let me get her out of that pool, and you can have me. Whatever you want to do, I’ll let you do it. Just let me get her.”
He sighed. “You know I can’t do that, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“DNA would say differently.”
“Experience wouldn't.”
His finger twitched against the trigger. “You know, I really am sorry about all this.”
I scoffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you are.”
My eyes flickered over his shoulder. Down into the pool. Where I saw Dani’s immobile form sitting against the bottom of the pool. I didn’t see any bubbles. The water was starting to still. And as the clouds moved away from the moon, the glow of the night illuminated my father’s disgusting face.
One.
“Dad, please.”
He blinked. “Did I just hear my son beg?”
I drew in a ragged breath. “Please. Let me get her. She’s already been down there a minute and a half. I’ve got less than a minute to get her up here and--”
He shoved the barrel further into my chest. “And if I did you this favor, how do you think that would make me look?”
Two. Three. Four. I have to get to her within the next minute. I just have to.
“No one has to know,” I said.
He snickered. “Someone always knows, son. You’d do well to learn that lesson now, so no one else has to die.”
Ten. Eleven Twelve.
“She doesn't! Have! To die!”
Dad moved the gun to my forehead. “I’m sorry it came to this, Maxwell.”
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
“Over my dead body,” I growled.
Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.
* * *
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Rebel Hart is an author of Dark Romance novels. Check out all the books in her #1 bestselling series Diamond In The Rough.
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