Chapter 20: Angel
After using the gym at the hotel and swimming a few lengths in the pool, I had dinner in the restaurant and then headed up to my room. I took a glass of wine with me, and as I curled up on the couch, I put some music on, relaxed, and watched some training tapes. When I had had enough of routes and passes, I ended the evening with my Kindle and my wine.
Thoughts of the letter and the pictures were never far from my mind, but I’d be damned if the bastard was going to scare me anymore. So, I exercised, maintained my appetite, and tried to relax. Keeping my sense of normality was key.
As I got ready for bed, I couldn’t push the fear away completely. Lying in the dark, I stared sightlessly at the ceiling as I listened to the muted sound of downtown and the other hotel patrons moving to and from their rooms, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
Feeling exhaustion creep up, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then, slowing my breathing down, I forced my mind and body to relax in order to allow me to sleep.
It was the cold that woke me. The unknown hardness that pressed against me, cold, unrelenting metal pressed against my throat. I jerked and hissed as I heard something rip.
“Quiet.” The whispered growl sounded too close to me, and I froze as I realized I was not alone.
The bathroom light was on, but the door was open only a little, illuminating some of the room but not me — and not the person crouched by my bed.
“Don’t speak, and don’t scream.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, and what had felt wide against my throat was suddenly sharp and pressed against my skin.
“I’ll slit your throat. Shut the fuck up.”
My body stiffened, and I lay still with fear.
“You can’t run from me, Angel,” he told me. “I’ll always find you, and when I’m ready, I’m going to ruin you.”
Tears spilled from my eyes and ran down the side of my face into my hair. I felt the blade press against me, and I whimpered as I felt it dig in slightly.
“Why?” I whispered past my fear. “Why are you doing this?”
“You deserve to suffer before you die.”
Quickly, the knife was removed, and I cried out as he struck me. Light flared in the room as they opened the door and exited into the hotel, while I lay curled on the bed holding my cheek. The strike hadn’t hurt, but the fear of what else this could have been kept me immobile. Not sure how much time had passed, I was able to sit up, and as my senses came flooding back, I reached out for my phone.
With trembling fingers, I punched in 911 and then hesitated. Was this different from my tires? From lingerie? Slowly, I erased the three digits.
Atrecent calls, I pressed dial.
“Are you okay?” he answered on the second ring.
His familiar, demanding tone settled me. “Onyx?” I burst into tears.
Which is how he found me, who knows how much later, but it didn’t feel long. He strode into the room, finding me where I was still sitting on the bed, sniffling, and when he bent and pulled me into his hold, I went, and the tears flowed again.
I knew there was someone else with him, and I heard them talk quietly over me as I cried and cried. Sane, sensible me wouldn’t be this vulnerable in front of him. Them. But scared, terrified me clung to his hoodie, with my fingers curled into the material and my forehead pressed against his chest. Onyx had one arm around my waist loosely as he ran a hand over my hair.
“Hey,” Onyx said quietly to me. I felt a finger under my chin, and I kept my head down. “Balan, look at me,” he growled, and I automatically looked up.
His concern morphed to anger as he caught my chin in his hand and tilted my head to the side. “He cut you?” he demanded, and I heard the other person move closer.
“Not deep.” I recognized Cooper’s voice. “It’s dry but deep enough that she’s wearing it.”
“Tell me what happened, now,” Onyx commanded as he led me to the couch. He helped me sit down, and when he went to move away, I clutched at his hand, and with a sigh, he sat down beside me.
Cooper took the opposite end, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them. My fingers pressed against my neck, but Onyx pulled my hand away and tugged on it forcibly.
“I hate waiting, Balan,” he reminded me sharply.
I actually laughed. “Fuck me, Devil, I’ve just been fucking threatened in my bed. Could you maybe just once make an exception?”
