His hold was so tight that she could do nothing.
As she struggled, the babies screamed louder.
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted. Then he shoved her so hard that she slammed into the crib, shaking it violently.
She filled her lungs and rubbed her arm where he’d squeezed it so hard it would leave a massive bruise.
His gaze locked with hers. Red-hot anger left a blotchy stain across his cheeks and neck. “Know this,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “If you ever walk out that door, I’ll find you—you know I can—” his gaze went to the babies screaming in the crib, “and I’ll put both those brats in the ground before you can scream. I’ll make them pay for your disloyalty.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Want me to show you how I’ll do it? Pick one.” A lip curled up in a sneer. “Save your favorite.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. “No.” She steadied herself by holding onto the top rail of the crib. “Don’t...hurt them.”
“I won’t hurt them.” He stalked toward her, grabbed her arm and slung her away from the crib and the babies. “I’ll only hurt one of them. If you won’t pick, I’ll have to do it, like I do everything else around here.” He laid his hand over one of the babies’ faces.
“No!” she cried and flung herself at his back.
With his free arm, he backhanded her across the face, knocking her away. “Are you going to leave me?”
“No. Please. I wasn’t going to leave you.” She grabbed his arm in an attempt to drag it away from the baby’s mouth and nose. Already, the child’s squirming was becoming slower. “Please don’t hurt them.”
“You will never leave me,” he said. “You’re mine forever. Until death. Like you promised in our vows.”
So many times, she’d wished she were dead—every time he’d punched, kicked or choked her. But not now. Her babies needed her to protect them.
And she was failing. He was stronger than she was. She couldn’t fight him off the baby with her bare hands.
Out of the abject fear for her child’s life, she glanced around the room for any kind of weapon. She snatched the lamp off the small table next to the rickety rocking chair, yanked the plug out of the wall and then raised it over her head. In one desperate move, she crashed the base of the lamp over the top of his head.
His face slammed into the rail of the crib. He cursed and rounded on her. “Bitch,” he said through bloody lips and lunged for her.
She scurried backward toward the hallway and grabbed the side of the door.
As he dove toward her, she yanked the door hard.
His head slammed into the edge of the door, and he fell to the ground.
Before he could lurch to his feet, she kicked him in the face with her bare foot.
A hand reached out and closed around her ankle.
She kicked with her other foot, landing a blow against his nose.
He yelled and loosened his hold on her ankle.
She pushed free and started for the hall again but stopped. If she left him with the babies, he could make good on his threat and kill one, if not both of them. She couldn’t let that happen. Instead, she snagged the empty gym bag and leaped onto his back.
When he lifted his head, she looped the bag around his neck and pulled hard on the handles, leaning all her weight into it.
He bucked, his body rising off the floor.
She rode him like an angry bull at a rodeo, her legs wrapping tightly around his middle, her arms straining as she cinched the bag tightly around his throat.
He rose on his knees, his hand clawing at the bag around his throat. He made hissing sounds and then no sound at all. Reaching over his shoulder, he tried to grab her arms, missed and wrapped his fingers into her long hair, pulling hard enough it brought tears to her eyes.
For the safety of her children, she held on. If he pulled every hair out of her head, she’d gladly lose them if it meant her babies would live.
Her arms shook, and her back screamed with the pain of her effort. The babies’ frightened cries gave her the strength to persevere.
After what felt like forever, he toppled forward in a faceplant, his body limp, his struggles ceasing.
