Broken Wings

by Sweet, Izzy

  “If you say one word about women drivers, I’ll shoot you,” I warn him.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” Jude snickers. “I’d just like to point out that you’re going to be attracting quite a bit of attention by driving this fast through this neighborhood.”

  I sigh because he’s right.

  But, “It can’t be helped. I don’t have a lot of time left…”

  “Oh?” Jude asks, arching a brow with interest.

  Nodding, I glue my attention to the road in front of me as I quickly catch him up on the situation.

  “I see,” he says thoughtfully when I finish. “Do you have a plan?”

  Shaking my head, I almost start laughing hysterically. “Besides showing up and hoping for the best? No.”

  He starts prodding me for information about the house. Where it’s located and what’s around it. I describe everything as best as I can. Then he starts prodding me about Mikhail and what he knows.

  When I tell him Mikhail probably doesn’t expect me to have anyone with me to help me, he says, “We’ll have to use that to our advantage. I suggest you turn off the headlights and slow down when we get close to the house.”

  “Why?” I ask, simply because I want to hear the reasoning behind it.

  “Because I’ll get out and make my way up to the house to clear a path for you. You said it yourself, Mikhail isn’t alone. Alone, the two of us could easily take him. There’s no telling though how many men he has with him.”

  I nod at that reasoning. If he wants to go in first and start shit, he can be my guest.

  As fast as I’m driving, it only takes another minute to reach the road that leads to my parent’s house.

  I do exactly as Jude advised me to. Switching off the headlights before I make the turn, I slow the van to a crawl.

  Nodding his dark head at the window, he asks, “Is that the house?”

  “Yes,” I say, taking it in.

  There are a few lights glowing from the windows on the first floor and there appears to be three dark cars parked in the driveway.

  There’s still no telling how many men Mikhail has with him, but it’s at least three.

  Fucker could never stoop low enough to drive himself anywhere.

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jude pulls the gun from his hip and checks the clip. “Get me a little closer and then I’ll get out.”

  “How will I know when it’s safe to approach?” I ask as he pulls a silencer from inside his jacket and twists it on.

  “It won’t be safe to approach, period,” he points out and gives me a sharp look. “Do you have a phone?”

  “No, Coy smashed my only phone,” I almost pout.

  Jude smirks. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until all is quiet…”

  Opening the door, he slides out of van and shuts the door softly behind him. Then he’s slipping like a shadow into the dark, heading for the trees.

  I pull off the side of the road, put the van in park, and shut off the engine.

  “Wait until all is quiet…” I whisper to myself.

  It’s pretty damn quiet right now. The only thing I can hear is crickets and mosquitos.

  What I wouldn’t give for a phone, though. Not only so Jude can give me the all clear, but so I could get ahold of Coy. If he and the Bastards could get here, I’d have nothing to worry about…

  Sighing, I start to tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I watch the house and absolutely nothing happens.

  Seconds start to turn into minutes and a hard ball of dread begins to grow in my stomach.

  I’m seriously starting to doubt the wisdom in trusting Jude when I notice movement on the side of the house. There’s a man close enough to a window that I can barely, just barely, make out his silhouette.

  I watch him, holding my breath, as he starts to turn toward the van.

  Then he disappears. Just poof, he’s gone, and I have absolutely no clue what happened to him.

  But I know Jude caused it.

  Feeling a little more relieved, I continue to stare into the darkness, my eyes and ears straining.

  Everything is quiet until suddenly it’s not.

  In the distance, I hear the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle.

  Eyes snapping to my rearview mirror, I see one headlight approaching.

  Is it Coy?

  My heart begins to beat wildly with hope before I realize the sound of the motorcycle is going to draw attention to me.

  Shit.

  I start up the van and roll down my window, craning my neck out.

  When I see exactly who is rolling up, my wildly beating heart drops to my stomach.

  It’s not Coy, it’s fucking Poster Boy.

  Goddammit.

  “Shut your bike off!” I hiss at him as he comes to a stop next to my window.

  “What the fuck is going on, Allie?” he snaps back, his motorcycle still running.

  Motherfucker!

  A light flashes in the corner of my eye and I whip my head back to the house when I hear men shouting in the distance.

  A bunch of lights begin to flash and I hear gunshots.

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  Either they’re shooting at us or they’re shooting at Jude.

  I put the van in drive and hit the gas, merging back onto the road once I’m past Poster Boy.

  Revving his engine up, Poster Boy speeds past me and weaves in front of me.

  “Get out of my way!” I scream out my window. “I will run you over, motherfucker! Don’t fucking test me!”

  Hitting the gas, I inch up on his back wheel until he suddenly swerves out of my way.

  Once he’s no longer in front of me, I slam down on the gas and reach over to grab my gun.

  I manage to get my fingers around the handle before I have to yank the steering wheel to turn into the driveway. I’m driving so fast, the van almost leaves the ground as I make the turn but then the tires find traction on the gravel.

  Once I’ve straightened the steering wheel, I lean forward and shove the gun down the back of my leggings, tucking it below the waistband.

  Standing in front of the house are two of Mikhail’s yes-men dressed in suits, pointing their guns at me.

  Bet they’re expecting me…

  As soon as I see recognition dawn on their faces and they begin to lower their guns, I give the steering wheel another yank and slam back down on the gas.

  I close my eyes at the last second when they start to look panicked and lift their guns back up.

  But as soon as I feel the impact of the bodies connecting with the front, and at least one of them slamming into the windshield, I slam on the brake.

  The sudden stop causes me to jerk forward and then back, but thankfully the airbag doesn’t deploy.

  Whoever hit the windshield tumbles down the hood to land with a thump on the ground.

  Dazed, my neck and front aching, I have to take a moment to catch my breath.

  There’s so much noise now, gunshots, shouting, moaning, and a motorcycle, I have no clue what’s going on.

  And crap… maybe I shouldn’t have run those two guys over because I’m feeling a little fucked up.

  Reaching down, my fingers fumble to unlatch my seatbelt. When I finally get my seatbelt undone, my door is yanked open and someone viciously grabs me by the hair.

  “You little bitch!” Mikhail yells. “You stupid little fucking bitch! Look what you’ve done!”

  By the hair he yanks me out of the van.

  I scream as my scalp lights up in agony and reach up, twisting and turning, trying to pry him off.

  As my ass hits the ground, he gives me a swift kick to the ribs that knocks all the air out of my lungs and starts to drag me to the front of the house.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you for this!” he rants and raves. “Oh, I was considering keeping you around for a little longer. You haven’t given me a fucking heir yet with that cold cunt of yours, and you owe me at least that! But I’m going to fucking kill y
ou now, you stupid fucking cunt bitch!”

  I can feel chunks of my hair and scalp being ripped out as he continues, without mercy, dragging me by the hair all the way through the front door and into foyer.

  When I finally manage to get enough air in my lungs to let out another scream, he kicks me in the ribs again. I double over when he finally yanks his hand out of my hair, taking even more of it with him.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t fucking breathe.

  One hand on the floor, the other slapped against my chest, I desperately try to pull some oxygen in.

  “I even kept your uncle alive for you! You’re fucking late and I kept him alive for you!”

  He gives me a hard kick to my back that has me dropping to the floor on my face.

  “Thank me, you ungrateful fucking bitch!” he roars.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I try my best to fight through the pain. But fuck, my entire body feels like a cage of throbbing misery.

  Mikhail grabs me by the hair again, yanking my head up and my neck back.

  I’d scream again if I could.

  “Look! Fucking look at him and thank me!”

  Peeling my eyes open, I can only make out a blurry silhouette seated on something until I blink all my tears away.

  But once I blink them all away and Robert comes into focus, I immediately wish I could unsee what I’m seeing.

  Mikhail may have kept Robert alive, but just barely.

  His head dropped forward in what I’m hoping is unconsciousness, Robert has at least a dozen knife handles protruding from his body. His arms, his legs, his hands, his feet…

  He’s been stabbed everywhere except for his torso, head, and stomach.

  My throat closes up and more tears pour from my eyes.

  Oh god, I’m sorry, Robert. I’m so fucking sorry.

  Mikhail lets go of my hair by shoving my head forward.

  Somehow I manage to slap my hand down to the floor to catch myself at the last second.

  Then Mikhail’s foot comes down on my neck, slamming my face into the floor anyway.

  “I said fucking thank me, bitch! Do you know how much fucking trouble you’ve caused me?!”

  Viciously, he begins to stomp his boot down on my back and kicks at my sides.

  Switching into pure self-defense mode, like I’ve had to do so many times over the past few years, I curl up and try to make myself as small as possible, avoiding every hit that I can.

  “You called the fucking police!” he screams as I try to roll away from him.

  Grabbing me by the hair again, he tries to pull me to my feet. “You made me chase your stupid cunt ass to Kentucky!”

  I reach up, nails clawing and scratching at his hand to free myself from his grip.

  He punches me hard in the stomach, so hard I want to puke, and then tosses me away before delivering a few more brutal kicks to my sides and ribs.

  Dazed and out of breath, I struggle to protect myself. Losing the strength to keep my arms up, protecting my head.

  I hurt in so many fucking places, I can’t even tell if he’s broken something.

  “I said thank me, Allison!” he roars before he delivers one last hard kick to my side and walks away.

  Still curled up, desperately trying to get some air, I watch Mikhail’s Italian black leather shoes approach Robert.

  “Thank me for saving the last knife for you…” Mikhail huffs out before he picks a knife up from a table that’s been set up next to Robert.

  Turning to me, he grins. “Where should I make the fatal blow? The neck? The chest? The stomach?”

  I hurt so bad, I don’t want to move, but if I don’t move, Robert is going to die.

  Gathering up all the strength I have left, I shove shakily up from the floor until I’m resting on my knees and reach behind myself as I force my lungs to suck in a shrill breath.

  “Oh? You don’t like any of those places, my dear?” Mikhail sneers then his eyes flash with menace and madness. “How about the groin? Wouldn’t that be fitting given how you’ve fucking cuckolded me, hmm?”

  Paranoid freak. Yeah, I’ve been with Coy, but he doesn’t know that. No, ever since I married Mikhail, he’s believed I was cheating on him. It was the only explanation he could come up with in his head to explain why I didn’t want him. He couldn’t accept that I simply did not want to be with his sick, abusive ass.

  Every few months, he’d off one of his yes-men, thinking I was sleeping with him, and then…

  Hand desperately digging into my pants, I yank the gun out and shakily point it at Mikhail.

  I still can’t speak, but I’m pretty sure he gets my message.

  “Where did you get that?” Mikhail asks, his head tipping to the side and his eyes narrowing.

  I start to cough and suck in another breath. While I do it, the gun tips toward the floor.

  Mikhail laughs at me. “Put the gun down, you stupid bitch. You don’t even know how to use it.”

  As soon as my coughing fit is over and Mikhail turns back to Robert, I straighten the gun, tighten my grip, and pull the trigger.

  “Fuck!” Mikhail bellows as my shot hits him directly in the foot, right where I wanted it to.

  The knife he was holding clatters to the floor as he hunches over and grabs at his shoe.

  He looks at his shoe then looks back up at me and screams, “You shot me in the foot, you stupid cunt!”

  For calling me a stupid cunt, I aim, pull the trigger again and shoot him in his other foot.

  Mikhail lets out a high-pitched scream that sounds a little girly to my ears as he drops to the floor.

  I watch him moan, curse, and writhe while trying to grab both of his feet at the same time.

  And I’m so tempted, so fucking tempted, to shoot him in the head for all the shit he’s put me through.

  The lies… the deceit… the abuse…

  Mentally scarring Levi.

  Pushing down to shove up with my left hand, I shakily get to my feet, keeping the gun aimed at the top his ugly head.

  All it would take is one squeeze and my nightmare will be over with…

  For killing my parents alone, he deserves death.

  He tricked them, tricked them into believing he was someone they could trust. A rich, upstanding man of faith who happened to fall in love with their daughter.

  All he wanted to do was take care of me and provide for me.

  And believing him, they pressured me into marrying him. Even though Levi’s father was dead according to them, the fact that I was a single mother embarrassed them.

  Hating that I brought shame to my parents, I eventually gave in.

  I didn’t love him, and that was my mistake. My deceit. My sin. Because I knew I would never be able to love anyone again and I still married him.

  But his love wasn’t love. It was never love.

  It was sick, psychotic obsession.

  He taught me that on our wedding night.

  “Holy shit!” Poster Boy says as he comes running through the front door.

  Tense and jumpy, I swing toward him and nearly shoot him in the chest.

  “Oh fuck! Don’t shoot, Allie!” Poster Boy yells and throws his hands up in front of him.

  Sucking in another breath, I relax and point the gun at the floor. Then I look him over. He’s covered in dirt and leaves, and his blond hair is a mess, but otherwise he looks okay.

  “Fuck, I think you shot a couple of my toes off!” Mikhail yells, reminding me of his existence.

  I swing back to point the gun at his head.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Poster Boy asks slowly in disbelief.

  “Luke,” I wheeze because it’s easier than saying Poster Boy at the moment. “Is…” I cough a couple of times and clear my throat. “Coy coming?”

  “Yeah,” Poster Boy says, and I hear him take a deep breath. “He should be here any minute.”

  I nod my head and stare down at Mikhail, taking the time to enjoy his pai
n and discomfort for a little longer as my own begins to fade. If there’s one thing I’ve gotten used to over the years, it’s pushing through the pain.

  If Coy is coming though, I don’t have much time left to make him suffer.

  And I want to make him suffer more than anything.

  I look around the house. All the garbage is gone. Someone has been renovating the place. The walls look and smell freshly painted.

  “I need you to help me, Luke,” I croak when my eyes finally land on what I want.

  There’s hesitation in Poster Boy’s voice when he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

  Mikhail glares up at me. “You’re going to wish you were dead when I’m done with you, Allison.”

  Joke’s on him, I’ve been wishing I was dead the entire time I was married to him.

  Mikhail makes a move, like he’s going to get up, but I shake my head at him.

  My voice still a little hoarse after I clear my throat again, I say, “Move, motherfucker, and I will shoot you between the eyes.”

  Mikhail freezes and his lip curls with a snarl. Practically foaming at the mouth to get his hands on me, he looks like a rabid dog.

  “Fucking try me, I dare you,” I glare right back at him. “Give me a fucking reason.”

  When Mikhail stays put like a good boy, I tell Poster Boy, “Here, take the gun. If he touches me or tries to run, shoot him in the balls.”

  Poster Boy chuckles. “Seriously, Allie? The balls?”

  “The fucking balls,” I insist as he walks over, holsters his own gun, and accepts the gun I put in his hands. “Only if he touches me, though.”

  “Fuck… we’ve done some shit together, but this is a whole new thing,” Poster Boy agrees with another chuckle and wild grin.

  Once Poster Boy points the gun at Mikhail, I walk over to quickly check on Robert.

  At first, I’m not sure how to touch him with all the knives sticking out of him. The last thing I want to do is cause him more pain…

  Fresh tears sting my eyes as I carefully maneuver my arm until I can check the pulse on his neck.

  Holding my breath, I listen and push my fingers against him until I find that little beating sign of life.

  Carefully pulling my arm back, I let out the breath I was holding in relief.

  He’s still alive. Mikhail turned him into a fucking pincushion, but he’s not dead.