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Fuck it.
I snag a shirt from the dresser and stalk across the room, I grab the picture off the wall and throw it on the ground jumping back so the glass doesn’t cut my feet. I toss the frame out of the way and using the shirt, I wrap it around the largest piece so I don’t cut my hand. I hope I don’t have to use it but I will not go down willingly. I have a conversation with my sister I need to finish.
I hide inside the closet hoping no one comes in here. I’m crouched down behind the door with my back against the wall. I've been in this position so long that my legs are numb but I’m too scared to move or even make a sound. I can still hear fighting downstairs and screams. I heard footsteps earlier and began to panic, thinking they would burst in here but then I heard a gunshot and a loud thud. Whoever came up here is no doubt dead and rather than feel sick with the thought, I’m grateful.
“Check that one at the end!” I hear some shout, my breathing turns erratic as I hear someone jiggling the door handle.
“It’s locked,” he calls back to the other guy.
“Then bust the fucking thing down and find her!” the guy shouts. My blood turns to ice, he said her. They’re here for me. When I hear the wood splinter, I cover my mouth with my hand to silence the sob. Fear can either rule and paralyze you, or it can become your greatest motivator. Right now I’m not sure I’m the latter.
“You in here, bitch?” I hear him taunt as he moves around the bedroom. I hear the glass outside the bathroom crunch beneath his shoe and the dark chuckle that escapes him sends a shiver down my spine. “Should have cleaned up after yourself.” I hear the floorboards creak as he makes his way toward the closet. I grip the shard tighter and pray to God I don’t freeze but fight my way out of this.
I see his shadow in the doorway and breathe through my nose to keep as quiet as possible. The moment he steps in I brace myself, then push every ounce of emotion down inside so I can focus on this moment. He passes the open door and without hesitation I dart my arm out and lodge the glass into the side of his thigh. He roars in pain and stumbles away as I push to my feet and make my escape. I get two steps into the bedroom before I’m tackled from behind and land on the hard floor with an oomph. My head bounces off the wooden floor boards and I see black spots for a second before he grips the back of my head and slams my face into the floor again.
“You stupid cunt!” I groan in pain and feel a wet substance dripping down my top lip. My vision blurs and I groan as he rolls me onto my back. The breath is knocked out of me when he rests his full weight on my stomach. I try to focus on his face but my vision is still fuzzy. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he grits out. I cry out in agony when his fist collides with my cheek. I make out his fist coming at my face again and manage to cover my face with my arms, pain shoots down my forearm.
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream as I try to thrust my hips to throw him off but he’s huge. Grunts and groans come from me as he continues to punch my arms, I can’t even claw his face because I run the risk of him knocking me out if I move my arms.
“Your daddy didn’t say we had to bring you back alive.” Hearing those words from his disgusting mouth fills me with anguish. My father really does hate us for leaving. He wraps his hands around my neck and squeezes. I drop my arms and begin slapping, clawing, punching, I do anything I can to get him to release me. The sinister smile on his face is not the last thing I am going to see, I refuse to allow that. I feel my strength waning as I fight to get free but it’s futile. I spot the shard of glass still embedded in the side of his thigh, without thinking I yank it free. He throws his head back and roars in pain, dropping his grip on my neck. I push up and ram it into the side of his neck.
“Fuck you!” I scream. His eyes are wide and filled with disbelief. He sways backward and I use his own size against him as I shove his chest and crab crawl away from him. My back slams into the dresser, then I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them as I watch him and he watches me. He yanks the shard free and tries to cover the wound with his hand but it won’t save him. He sputters and gurgles on his own blood before he finally collapses, his soulless vacant eyes staring directly at me. I feel his blood soaking through my shirt and dripping down my cheek but I don’t have it within myself to move an inch.
If someone else comes in, I’m fucked. I have no strength left to fight off another attacker. I know his buddy was up here with him and I worry he will come investigate what his friend was shouting about but still, I can’t move.
I just killed someone!
Knox
It takes us no time to gain entry to the house, most of the bastards fled as soon as they saw us coming. Bodies litter the floor of the lower level. Guilt swarms through me when I see two of my maids laying in a pool of their own blood, but that isn’t what makes me sick—it’s the sight of their pants around their ankles and their torn panties stuffed into their mouths.
They raped them.
Grinding my teeth, I motion for Xander to clear the bottom floor with Floyd while I take Taylan and a couple others with me. I need to find Lakeland and make sure her father didn’t fucking take her. The moment we hit the second floor Taylan branches off to the left while I go right toward my room. The sight of my door busted open has all rational thought fleeing as I race toward the room and skid to a stop at the threshold at the sight of some fucker dead on my floor. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
“Lakeland,” I breathe out at the sight of her covered in blood and huddled against my dresser. At the sound of her name she snaps her head toward me. I expect to see anger, fear or something in her eyes but all I see is… nothing, she looks slightly unhinged.
“He was going to kill me,” she mutters before tearing her gaze from mine and staring at the body in front of her. I stow my gun in my waistband and slowly make my way toward her, keeping a small amount of space between us as I crouch down beside her. “He wanted to hurt me.” I don’t know if she is trying to convince me of that or herself. What I do notice are the bruises on her face, arms and even the hand prints around her fucking throat. Only I am allowed to mark her, not that son of a bitch.
“You defended yourself,” I say. She frowns and cocks her head to the side but still won’t look at me.
“He was going to kill me,” she mutters.
I reach out to her only for her to flinch and shift away. She finally looks at me and gone is the hollow look in her eyes only to be replaced by fear.
“He was going to kill me!” she screams just as Taylan enters the room. I peer over my shoulder to see him dismiss the other guys before coming to stand beside me. He smiles comfortingly at Lake before snatching the blanket from the bed and tossing it over the fucker beside her. She keeps her focus on the both of us, barely blinking.
“You did what any woman in your position would have done, Lay.” She shakes her head denying what Tay is saying but he pushes on, slowly closing the space between them as he speaks. “You were strong. You were brave. You were resourceful and resilient. You didn’t cower in fear and allow him to brutalize you. You fought back and guess what?” He crouches down in front of her forcing me to shift so I can see her face. Her brows furrow as she stares up at him. “You won.” Her bottom lip begins to tremble.
“He hurt me, I didn’t have a choice,” she chokes out before sobs wrack her body. Taylan wraps his arms around her tiny frame and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. She clutches the sides of his shirt in a vice-like grip as if she’s afraid he’ll disappear.
“You made the right choice, Lay,” he mumbles as he places a kiss to the top of her head. Seeing him comfort her rubs me the wrong way.
“Clean her up then bring her downstairs,” I say in a cold tone as I push to stand. She pulls back from Taylan and stares up with worry etched into her features.
“Where’s my sister?” she asks with concern thick in her tone. I attempt to respond but I don’t get the chance. She shoves Taylan back. He lands on his ass with a grunt as she races from the room. Growling I chase after the little shit. She nearly tumbles down the stairs a couple times at the sight of the bodies but it’s only when she reaches the landing that she comes to a halt and gasps. Following her line of sight I find the reasons for her sudden pause. “They were my father’s men and they hurt those innocent women,” she speaks quietly but the disgust and anger is clear in her tone.
“Your father and his men will pay the price for what they did to Laura and Sophie.” I motion to two of my men to cover up the maids. They may have been disrespected in their final moments but I will make damn sure they are treated with the utmost respect in death. I won’t allow their murders to be in vain. We watch as Thomas and Patrick lay some sheets over each of their bodies.
