by Lane Hart
“Precisely,” Baz confirms.
Running my free hand through my hair, I let out a stifled sigh. “I fucked up, Baz. Victoria’s pulling away from me, creating distance. And I don’t know how to get her back,” I confess. I hate to admit defeat in any aspect, but I’m at a loss here. I pushed Victoria away one too many times, and now I might have lost her forever. She’s probably already thinking about dating other people, and all my progress will be for nothing.
“Then you’ll have to do something extreme to push her back into your arms, my friend.”
“Something extreme…” I repeat his words, trying to make sense of them.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. Let me know what you decide, my friend.”
“I will,” I tell him before ending the call and setting my phone down. Standing up from the couch, I walk over to the window overlooking the city.
I have to come up with a plan, a way to make Victoria fall right back into my arms, so that I can carry out my revenge on her father.
But am I willing to risk it all in order to make that happen?
My eyes focus on my reflection in the glass staring back at me, and I already know the answer.
Yes.
Chapter Seventeen
Victoria
It’s early Saturday morning, and I decide to go for a run.
I need to clear my head, because I'm so confused on what to do with Damon.
His calls and texts have stopped. But did I really think they would go on forever? You can only ignore a person for so long…
It’s been over a week since I’ve seen or talked to Damon, and now I know why people write songs about breaking up. It’s rough on your mind, body and soul. And I’ve gone through so many pints of ice cream I lost count.
I constantly want to text him or call him back, but what’s the point? The man is a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. He never lets me in. The chemistry is there; but every time I push, he pulls back. He won’t open up to me whatsoever, so how could we ever form any sort of a true relationship?
Something's missing, and I don't know how to figure that out.
Maybe I’m simply not ready to date right now. I’m barely getting used to being around people that aren’t the same group of girls I basically grew up with in school and college. Perhaps I just need time to adjust to normal life before trying to pursue a relationship.
By the time I reach the park, it's cold and a thick fog has settled over the entire place. It looks eerie…scary even, but I'm not turning back now.
I do some basic stretches before embarking on my run. At first, there are several other joggers that I pass. But by the time I reach the North Woods, I don't see another soul.
The fog is so thick I can barely see the trail in front of me, so I run a little faster, determined to get out of this area and back to the more populated areas of the park.
A few seconds later, I hear footsteps behind me. I'm thankful someone else is on this trail with me, and so I slow down a little into a light jog.
But as the footsteps approach, they sound heavy, like someone wearing boots instead of running shoes.
A fissure of fear runs through my entire body as I glance behind me, but the fog distorts my vision.
I can see a dark figure, but I can't make out any other features.
Instinct is telling me to run faster, so I do…and so does the person behind me.
The faster I run, the faster they run. And that's when the panic starts to settle in. A million different scenarios stream through my head, and they all have the same dire outcome.
The muscles in my calves and thighs scream as I push myself to move faster and faster. If I can just reach one of the emergency call boxes scattered throughout the park, I’ll be all right.
But I never reach one in time.
One moment my feet are pounding against the trail, and the next they're kicking at the air as I'm hauled up off the ground by the person behind me.
Thick, hairy arms encircle my arms, pinning them to my waist as I’m dragged backwards by a large, bulky man. Screaming, I kick at his shins and try to wriggle from his grip, throwing my head back and slamming into his chin. The blow is enough to knock me silly, but the grunt I hear from my attacker gives me satisfaction that I was able to hurt him.
His grip loosens a little until he’s half carrying, half dragging me towards the woods at the edge of the trail. I know that I might never make it out of there alive if he gets me in the secluded area, so I start screaming at the top of my lungs, praying someone is nearby and is able to hear my pleas. “Help! Someone please help me!” My voice sounds so high-pitched and desperate that it scares me.
Suddenly, the man throws me down on the leaf-covered ground, pinning me with all his weight. The crushing blow causes the air in my lungs to escape in a rush, and I struggle to breathe.
In my vulnerable state, I look up at my attacker. His face is covered with a black ski mask, and all I can make out are his beady, brown eyes and broken, rotten teeth as he breathes heavily through his open mouth.
His meaty hands tear at my clothes, ripping down my shirt and searching my yoga pants for pockets. He’s probably looking for money, but I never carry anything more than a twenty-dollar bill in my sports bra pocket for when I go to visit Sophie. And I'll die before I tell him to reach in there.
"Where's your money, bitch?" he hisses through clenched teeth with a thick Irish accent.
Irish.
I’m not sure if this man works for Nolan Farrell or maybe one of Nolan’s sons. I can’t help but wonder if this whole thing is in retaliation from the charity gala several weeks ago.
I manage to pull a small burst of air into my crushed lungs before I scream for help again. If Farrell is behind this, I need to get help as soon as I can. I know what the Irish Mob boss is capable of.
The hard blow comes out of nowhere, silencing my cry and whipping my head to the side. My ears ring as a fog falls over me. For a moment, I lose consciousness, and my body goes limp.
I’m completely helpless as his hands paw at me again, and I faintly hear the sound of fabric tearing as he tries to yank my pants down.
The sound is enough to bring me back to reality. Sucking in a breath, renewed strength courses through my veins as I use the heels of my palms to strike him in the face.
He quickly grips his nose, which I most likely broke, and roars in anger. Cursing, he spits blood and mucus onto the ground beside me, barely missing my face.
His large hand collides with my mouth as he backhands me. Pain radiates through my entire mouth and jaw as the smell and taste of metal hits my senses.
Pinning my wrists down above me with one of his big, sweaty hands, he hisses at me, "I came for your money, but now maybe I should take something else since you’re such a pain in the ass," he says, grinding his crotch against me.
His breath is foul as it runs over my face, and I turn my head away, gagging at the stench. Tears stream down my face as I shake my head back and forth. "No, no, no, no," I sob. "Please!"
He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and the sound of a pocket knife flicking open has my breath seizing in my lungs.
"Don't worry, love,” he says menacingly, “I'll have you begging for it in a minute."
He releases my wrists to undo his pants, and I take the momentary freedom to scramble back away from him. I turn, getting up to run, but he tackles me to the dirty ground again.
I’m on my stomach now, even more vulnerable than before. His fingers tear at my clothes, struggling to rip them off of me. I try to kick back at him, but my legs are pinned underneath his fat thighs.
I can feel his cock pressing up against my ass, and I scream bloody murder. "Help me! Somebody please help me!" My hands grasp for something, anything, but come up empty. There are only leaves and small twigs on the ground, nothing to strike back with.
"Shut up, bitch," he growls, wrapping his hands around my throat. The delicate chain of my necklace breaks under his gri
p, and I can feel my only comfort in this whole wide world falling from me into the dirty ground below.
His grip only tightens as my vision begins to swirl, blurring everything in front of me. Darkness threatens to consume me, but I refuse to go under.
I mentally try to prepare myself for what's about to happen, but I can't. I can't just…give up.
And it's in that moment when I hear a deep voice asking, "What the fuck is going on here?"
A sob of relief releases from my lips as the man on me loosens his grip around my neck. He pushes up off of me; his crushing weight gone. I collapse to the ground, barely managing to turn my head to see my savior.
My mouth takes a while to catch up with my brain as I stare at the man before me, trying to understand how he's here right now. "Damon!" I sob.
His dark green eyes meet mine as he looks me over. His gaze turns murderous when he sees my condition, and then he turns his attention to my attacker.
The man quickly stands and starts running away. Damon looks at me and asks, "Are you okay?"
I nod and shake my head consecutively. I'm not even sure how I am right now. I feel battered and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m safe now that he’s here.
"I'll be right back. Don't move," he tells me as he takes off after the man.
"Wait!" I find myself calling out. "Please don't leave me alone," I whisper.
But Damon is already gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Damon
As I run after Victoria's attacker, all I can think about is the way she looked on the cold, dirty ground.
Her lip busted and bloody.
Her violet eyes wide and scared, shimmering with tears.
She looked up at me like I was her savior. Her fucking hero.
If she only knew the truth.
"Goddamn it," I mutter under my breath as I run faster.
When I finally catch up to the motherfucker, he's bent over, winded, with his hands on his knees and drawing air into his lungs.
Drawing back my fist, I land the punch right to his jaw. The man falls to the ground, cursing. “Fuck!” he hisses, spitting blood out of his busted mouth. "What the fuck did ya do that for?" he yells. "I only did whatcha asked of me! Whatcha paid me for!"
"I told you to scare her, to rob her, not to fucking lay a hand on her!" I practically scream. Seeing his hands on her made something inside of me snap. I want to kill the sonofabitch even though all of this is my own fucking fault. I shouldn’t have listened to Baz. I shouldn’t have done this.
But it’s too late now.
What’s done is done.
"Bitch didn't have any money," he grumbles, pulling a loose and bloody yellowed tooth from his mouth before tossing it to the ground.
"You went too far. You crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed," I growl angrily. "You fucked up, Grady."
"So I'm not getting the rest of my money?"
"You won't need money where you're going," I mutter before wrestling him to the ground. Pinning him down with my weight, my fists raining blows onto his face all while I picture Victoria in my mind.
Her shock.
Her sadness.
Her fucking pain.
I roar in anger as I lash out over and over again until his body is limp below me and his face resembles a bloody, tangled mess of exposed bone and tissue.
“Fuck!” I howl as I push up off of him. Panting, I stalk back and forth like a caged fucking lion as I try to get my shit together.
After wiping Grady’s blood off my hands in the wet grass, I pull my cell phone out of my hoodie pocket.
Baz created this problem for me. Now he can be the one to clean it up.
Chapter Nineteen
Victoria
By the time Damon comes back for me, I'm a shaking, sobbing mess. I'm still sitting on the ground, my clothes in total disarray and my neck and face thumping with pain.
"Victoria," he says before kneeling down in front of me. His hoodie is gone and he’s only wearing a black t-shirt now. He reaches for me, but I flinch. "It's okay. He's gone. I chased him as far as I could, but he got away."
I close my eyes at his words. The man who attacked me deserved to be caught and to pay for what he did, but I'm glad Damon didn't put himself in any more danger. The guy had a knife, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to Damon because of me.
Suddenly, I throw myself into Damon's arms, crying against his chest, my entire body trembling in his arms. "He was…he was going to…" My voice breaks as I can't even voice what almost happened to me.
His hand brushes down my back, soothing me. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here now," he whispers into my ear.
I pull back just far enough to meet his concerned gaze. "If you wouldn't have showed up when you did…"
He shakes his head. "Don't think about that right now, Victoria." He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear that must have come loose from my ponytail, and I flinch when he grazes my sore temple. "Fuck…I'm sorry," he says with a deep frown. "I'm so sorry, Victoria."
More tears leak out of my eyes as I grasp onto his shirt, holding onto him for dear life.
Damon holds me tightly, soothing me with calm whispers in my ear as he gently fixes my clothes.
My instinct is to reach for my necklace, which has been like a lifeline to me over the years, but then I realize it’s gone. “Oh, no,” I cry, almost to the point of hysterics. I barely remembered my attacker breaking it.
I release my grip on Damon and immediately go to the ground, frantically searching for the only thing I have left of Arlo.
Damon tries to help me up, but I wrestle from his grip, feeling around in the leaves and dirt. “My necklace. I lost it,” I sob. The attack and everything that just happened doesn’t even matter to me right now. I have to find that locket.
Damon doesn’t say a word as he kneels on the ground and helps me search.
“It’s silver,” I tell him between sobs. “A locket.” Tears blur my vision, but I’m still crawling on the ground, refusing to give up searching.
I vaguely notice Damon has gone still beside me. And when I look up, I see the locket in his hand. It’s open, and he stares intently at the picture inside. When his green eyes meet mine, there is an undecipherable emotion inside of them. “Is this it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes!” I cry out in relief. Snatching it from his hand, I inspect it carefully. The locket is fine, but the chain has been broken in two different places. I’ve had to replace the chain over the years anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal. But the locket is irreplaceable. “Thank you,” I tell him wholeheartedly as I crush the locket against my chest, and Damon simply gives me a tight nod.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he tells me before standing and helping me up.
Gripping the locket tightly in my hand, I lean on Damon for support as we make our way out of the park together.
Chapter Twenty
Damon
I royally fucked everything up.
I thought I could detach my feelings from this situation, close myself off and not think twice about it.
But seeing Victoria in pain, the fear in her eyes did something to me.
It took me back to a time when we were both innocent. We were young, maybe seven or eight years old. Victoria fell off her bike and scraped her hands and knees up pretty good.
I remember seeing the big, fat tears rolling down her delicate cheeks, and it gutted me back then.
I just didn’t know her tears would completely gut me today as well.
And to know that I was the source of the pain, the source of her anguish…it was like a knife being thrust into my stomach and someone twisting the handle.
The only saving grace is that my plan worked and that no more drastic steps will have to be taken. I can actually feel Victoria’s adoration for me now. I’m a hero in her eyes. And even though I did the unthinkable, I need to focus on moving forward and salvaging my plans for retributi
on.
The tea kettle whistling on the stove abruptly shakes me out of my thoughts. I fix Victoria a cup of tea before heading back into my living room where she’s perched on the window seat overlooking Manhattan.
She didn’t feel safe enough to return to her apartment, so I offered to bring her to mine. It’s not much, but I’m not planning on staying here long. There’s a small kitchen, living room and two bedrooms. One bedroom is filled with my computer and surveillance equipment, so I’ll have to keep that locked while she’s here.
When I approach Victoria, her knees are drawn up to her chest, and her head is turned toward the window, her dark hair cascading down her legs. She looks like a fucking angel sitting there, some unearthly creature that I stumbled upon.
“Victoria,” I say gently so as to not startle her.
She turns to me, smiling a woefully sad smile. Her right hand is clutching something, and I know it’s the locket. She hasn’t stopped holding it since we found it on the ground.
I remember seeing the silver chain around her neck before, but she always had the locket hidden under her clothes. The way she would always touch her chest… I thought it was a nervous habit, but now I know she was using the locket like a totem, a reminder of the boy she lost so long ago.
A reminder of me.
I was ten years old when I gave Victoria that necklace. I mowed several different lawns all summer long, sweating and slaving away to scrape up enough money to buy her something nice for her birthday.
My mother helped me pick it out, saying it was the perfect gift.
A silver locket with a picture of Victoria and me inside, so she could “always keep it close to her heart”, as my mother told me that day.
Little did I know that only months after Victoria’s birthday, our lives would all be irreparably broken and that I would lose her and my family forever.