Page 101 of Give Me Peace

Red tints my vision. I blackout completely, unaware of what I’ve done until the bat slips through my fingers and clangs against the tile floor. Our poor eighty-five-inch flatscreen dangles from the wall, broken bits of LCD scattered at my feet. An innocent bystander, caught in the crossfire of my rage.

“Our equipment needs an exorcism, brother. And quick, before it meets the same fate as the TV.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Saylor

For the third time in my rather short life, I experience that same out-of-body sensation I first felt on the day of my and mom’s wreck. I’m rendered completely immobile as I replay the last few minutes. The nightmare that woke me, followed closely by the vivid image of someone peering through the slider. My skin crawls just thinking about the person behind that chilling stare.

It takes longer than I care to admit for my body and brain to get with the program. I turn and take off down the stairs at a dead run, barely making contact with each step. The moment my feet hit the floor, I slam my hand against the security panel, shifting impatiently as I wait for the system to recognize me. A flash of red illuminates the screen, echoed by a buzzing sound. My heart falls to my stomach as I read the ‘access denied’ prompt staring at back at me.

I try again and again, but it never changes. I’m shaking like a leaf, my gaze flying around the darkened space, waiting on pins and needles for someone to jump out at me. With no other option, I make my way to the media room and power on the projector screen. After several cursed missteps, I finally find the cam feed. I sag in relief as I watch the guys prowl around the living room. They’re safe and free of any obvious injuries, but all five of them are armed to the teeth, anticipating the worst.

“Sayloooor.”

Goosebumps pebble my skin at the crackle-y voice calling out for me. They keep talking, but my eyes stay fixed on the screen, noting the shock and rage on each of the guys’ faces. Par the course for his temper, Havok explodes, taking out the TV with a few well-placed hits. My knees weaken as I realize how truly fucked we are. I can’t engage the vault door. Whoever this person is—the man responsible for every awful thing that’s happened to me—he has control over the security system.

We’re at the whim of a madman.

My eyes fly to the camera mounted by the ceiling. If I had to gamble with whether or not I was being watched, I’d place my bets on the absolutely side. Thinking on my feet, I head toward the snack area. There’s no mop or broom in sight for me to poke it with, so I grab a few cans of soda from the fridge. Hugging them to my chest, I ignore the stinging cold seeping through my thin t-shirt and glare at the camera.

With my free hand fisted, I pour every ounce of the fury I’ve been stockpiling into that one look, hoping like hell he sees me in all my unbroken glory. And then I launch can after can, venting my frustration with a drawn-out scream. A few go wide, but eventually my aim rings true. I’m fighting for breath by the time it clatters to the floor, landing amongst the sticky, busted mess of coke and sprite. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve likely only pissed them off. But at least they can’t see me. It’s quiet—too quiet—after giving my nutjob stalker the metaphorical middle finger. It’s quick, but I don’t miss the pleased smirk Krew flashes.

“That wasn’t very nice, darling. I’d hate to punish you on our first night together, but I bet you scream so pretty.”

That disembodied voice disrupts the silence, making chills wash over me. I shiver in disgust at what this man has planned for me. I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of playing out his twisted fantasies. I’m watching the guys intently, looking for any hint or indication of what I should do. It feels wrong to leave them up there, fighting off an enemy I brought to their door. If it weren’t for my watchful eye, I would’ve missed the shadow creeping from the hallway. Not one of the guys is facing that direction, feeling secure enough to give it their backs because there’s no reason to believe anyone could’ve breached the house from a top floor window. That would have been difficult on a good day, but I clearly remember the storm shutters getting bolted on earlier.

“Roan!” The glint of a gun makes me lightheaded, but my warning comes a second too late. Not that anyone could’ve heard me from this far away. He’s the closest, directly in the line of fire, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent the inevitable from happening. I don’t hear the gunshot, but the flinch that rocks Roan’s body is unmistakable.

Almost instantly, the lights cut out, leaving me alone in the dark, clueless as to what’s happening above me. I wait, my breath growing choppier by the second. He’s hurt, and every second that passes could be detrimental to whether or not he’s okay. My heart seizes painfully at the thought of this ending in tragedy. It can’t. It just can’t. I need him—need all of them. The screen flickers back to life, but the sight that greets me makes my knees buckle. I hit the floor hard, but the pain barely registers.

Roan stares back at me, his position a mirror image of my own. There’s one glaring difference, though. Behind him stands a hooded figure, his frame much smaller in comparison, but the gun pressed to Roan’s temple gives him the upper hand. Bile burns my throat, but I push it back, afraid to take my eyes off the man I love.

“Now, now. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.” My living nightmare emphasizes his point by digging the barrel of the gun into Roan’s head. One slip of his finger is all it would take to send my world crumbling. “It’s past time for us to be going. Come on out and we’ll see about leaving your friends in one piece. Five minutes, darling. Clock is ticking.”

My body burns with anger, yet my blood runs ice cold. My hands began to shake, palms pooling with sweat. Roan glares at the camera, his eyes speaking volumes without a single word breaching his lips. Don’t you fucking dare. But he knows I’ll never sit back and do nothing. I did that for far too long, and I have no intention of letting him die. I’d be signing my own death warrant. It’d kill me to have his blood on my hands.

I drag in a deep breath and leave my illusion of safety. I’ll have to risk being seen, but there’s no way in hell I’m walking in there without some form of protection. I don’t think there are any other cameras down here, but who knows what this man has rigged up. I skirt the walls as I head for the arms room, making myself as small as possible. I squeeze through the door, tears springing to my eyes when I realize the panel on the wall isn’t going to grant me access. We’ve been locked out of everything. I backtrack, racking my brain for a plan B. In a sudden lightbulb moment, I remember the guys have a knack for hiding weapons around the house. I rush back to the media room and scour every inch I can think of, but nothing turns up.

I’m skirting defeat when I shove my hand between the cushions, searching the leather seats. In my last-ditch effort, I trace every inch, shocked when my fingers graze something hard. There, wedged between the chair and wall, I find a gun. It’s secured in a holster, but I quickly rip it free, my nerves skyrocketing as I grip the handle. It’s unfamiliar, bulkier than the one Roan taught me to shoot, but beggars can’t be choosers. I double check the safety and slip it in the back of my leggings.

A welcome numbness blankets me as I ascend the stairs. Whatever happens, it won’t be a result of me caving and handing myself over. I’ve come way too far to burrow back into the shell of a girl I was, too scared to fight but desperate to live. He won’t take another day of my life from me, much less years. As my fingers grip the doorknob and start to twist, I straighten my spine, mentally bracing myself for what needs to be done.

The first thing I see is Krew, his deep brown eyes chastising my choice to walk right into the lion’s den, but there’s also a hint of understanding. I know if the roles were reversed, not one of them would sit back and do nothing. I note the rest of the guys in my peripheral, but my attention is drawn to Roan. He looks pissed, his massive form vibrating with anger. I smile at the big man, my eyes brimming with tears.

In no scenario should someone as strong as him be brought to their knees. I have a sinking suspicion that he’s more concerned about what his death would do to me rather than the possibility of actually dying. If I weren’t a factor, he would’ve risked it all by now. I raise my hands in a show of surrender, willing to do whatever it takes to get that gun off Roan.

“I’m here,” I choke out, the words tasting like ash.

“That you are.”

I can feel the heated once over he gives me, making my lip curl involuntarily. Slowly, he slips the hood from his head, revealing a gaunt looking face. He’s balding, his hairline practically nonexistent. Wire-rimmed glasses are perched on a beak-like nose. Distractedly, I notice his nostrils are bigger than most, giving him a cartoonish appearance. Everything about this man screams meek and subordinate. A rule-follower to the highest extent. But I’ve learned the hard way how deceiving looks can be.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment a thousand times,” he groans, pressing his free hand over the crotch of his pants. Gross. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” The wide, grotesque smile that stretches across his face makes my insides twist. He’s certifiable if he thinks the two of us will be doing anything enjoyable.

“Let Roan go so we can leave.” A snarl sounds behind me, a vehement display of ‘I think the fuck not’ from one of the guys. My chest warms at the love I feel emanating from each of them. This is going to go horrifically wrong. I was a fool to think they’d ever go along with letting me leave here with this deranged pedophile, even if it meant saving their brother.

“Oh?” Roan grunts, swaying side to side as the asshole behind him slams the butt of the gun against his temple. “On second thought, I think he should pay for his transgressions.”