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I chuckle as I pull out the butterfly knife I keep in my back pocket.
I slip it open and drive the knife into his shoulder.
“You should have thought of that before you decided to fuck with me and take the woman I love.”
Tears stream down his cheeks as I drag the knife across his neck, slitting his throat.
Blood drains onto the white carpet, mingling with the blood spreading from the other bodies.
“Are you alright?” Camila asks as we leave the bodies behind us and head to the hidden door.
I open the door and see the body of Jeremiah Redford on the ground in front of me. “I would have been better if I got to kill this bastard myself.”
There are no other people in the hall as we make our way to the only room with a closed door.
I take a deep breath, my heart racing as I try to prepare myself for what I’ll see in there.
Though Shayne insinuated that she is still alive and has not yet been sold, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t hurt.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Camila says, her voice chocked as we stop in front of the door.
I nod and open it up, the air knocked from my lungs as I see Zoe’s crumpled body in the middle of a bed.
The sheets and pillows are a mess around her.
She sits up and scrambles back on the bed, terror in her eyes.
“It’s just me, Zoe. It’s just me. I’m here and nobody is ever going to hurt you again.” My voice is strained, and my vision blurs as I make my way across the small room to get to her. “Did they hurt you?”
“Thighs and ribs,” she gasps and lifts up her shirt to show me the dark bruises spreading across her body.
Tears stream down her face as she looks up at me. “Are they dead?”
“They’re dead.” I pull her into a hug, careful not to hurt her more.
Hot tears track down my cheeks as I pick her up and hold her close. “We’re going to take you to see the doctor and then I’m going to take you home.”
She nods, sobbing into my shoulder as I carry her past the dead men and out to the car.
Camila calls the cleaning team as we race to the doctor’s.
Zoe groans from the backseat with every bump in the road.
I feel horrible, but this is the fastest way to get her help.
As I glance in the mirror at her, some of the tension in my body starts to ease.
Zoe is safe. Zoe is going to be fine.
As Zoe climbs into our bed later that night, I try to scrub the blood out from beneath my fingernails.
I don’t want there to be a memory of tonight.
“Christian, please just come to bed,” she says, her voice wavering. “I’m not going to be able to sleep without you.”
I glare down at my nails, inspecting them until I’m sure that there is nothing there.
When I can’t stall any longer, I walk over to the bed and get in beside Zoe.
