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"You need to get dressed. They'll be here soon." Liam.
I'm stunned into silence as I listen to his words, confirming his knowledge of us going and yet he's doing nothing to stop it. Why? Why is he letting me go? Is he coming with us? Despite the many terrible things he's done, I can't bear the idea of leaving him here. Or leaving him at all. After the truth and heartbreak of his life, I realise that no matter what he's done, I want him, his life entwined with my own somehow.
He gets out of bed and begins dressing himself in his usual clothes and then pulling out his riding leathers. Why is he putting his leathers on? My mind is racing with possibilities as I sit, stunned, unable to move as I attempt to process what's happening in front of me. I shift my eyes to the clock. 11.45p.m. Fifteen minutes.
"Baby girl, listen to me. As much as I'd love to stay here with you all night, they'll be here any minute and even though I have no doubt you'll tell them everything, them walking in on you naked in my bed isn't high on my priority list, and I somehow doubt it's what you want either. You need to get dressed," he tells me hurriedly, his hands on either side of my face as his eyes beat into mine before he begins rummaging through his drawers and pulls out some of my clothes.
I take action and get dressed as quickly as I can, part of me questioning if this is some kind of trap, but I'm so uncertain that I have very little idea what to say. No. He wants out as much as I do. Where's Gray?
"Put these on," he says as he hands his leathers to me. So, they're not for him.
"Why?" My voice is more timid than it's been in months, the confusion I'm feeling coming front and centre.
"They're not much but they'll protect you more than your clothes will if shots are fired," he says as he pulls the jacket around me and zips up the front.
"Why are you letting this happen?" I ask, realising too late that it sounds like I'm sad at the prospect of leaving when in reality all I should be feeling is joyous at the idea, yet his apprehension and willingness to let me go confounds me.
Liam stops, turns, looking at me with nothing but sincerity as he steps closer. The heat from his body is felt all over mine even though he's not touching me.
He sighs, his eyes low before he looks into my eyes again.
"I've already taken up too much of your time and inflicted more hurt on you than I wanted to. It's time for you to go home, baby girl. It's time for you to heal and live your life." My mind is blank as I take in his words, unsure of why or how he's come to this conclusion, but thankful all the same.
"Thank you." My words are a whisper, barely spoken, but I know he heard me, his eyes filling with sorrow as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. I hug him, my arms around him as I nestle my head into him further, holding back the unshed tears that threaten to spill over.
It's not a moment later that I hear what can only be described as pure chaos in the building surrounding us as the front door to the apartment bursts open.
Gray rounds the corner, a gun in his hand, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him with confusion and a sad understanding - myself pulling away from Liam's embrace.
"Charlie! Is she in here? Charlie!" a voice I would recognise anywhere shouts from the lounge and before I know what I'm doing, my legs are leading the way to him. The moment he comes into view, the tears I previously held captive lose the battle, the tears and emotion pouring out of me at the sight of him as he takes me into a bear crushing hug, the tears that I attempted to hold in falling freely down my dad’s shoulder as he hangs onto me for dear life.
"Oh, Charlie," he whispers, his voice sounding hoarse in my ear as he holds my head in place at his nape.
His hands move from my back, placing me down as his eyes turn to black slits of anger when he looks up to see Liam mere feet away from him.
Liam looks at me and nods his head with a weak smile before laying his eyes back upon my father's, his guard down, his eyes forgiving of what he knows will come. And it's him giving up that stops me because no matter who he is or what he's done, the stupid, stupid part of me that could feel empathy for anyone doesn't want this.
"He stopped them from hurting me," I practically yell as my dad's hand halts mid-air with the gun faced directly at Liam's head. I don't dare look at Liam or Gray, knowing that they'll both be as surprised as I am, understanding more of the why than my dad ever will.
My dad’s eyes find mine, his arm not moving.
"What happened?" he asks, his words coming out harsher than I've probably ever heard.
"I have no idea, I just know that he protected me and took more beatings to protect me than I ever had to take," I tell him honestly. "And he knows things, it might not be much but it's more than me and Gray know. He knows a lot more than we could tell you. He can help." I feel like I'm manipulating him. My words aren't a lie, not in the slightest but I, as well as Liam and Gray, know that I'm stalling. I'm stalling the end of Liam’s life. For some unknown reason that even I can't fathom. Except I do know, my clambering and shattering heart knows damn well why I can't and won't let him die.
"Did he do that to you?" he asks, not moving, though I know exactly what he means. The scar - the one that tears across my cheek. It's the first time he's truly seen it, having only seen me run up to him in a flurry moments ago, not giving him the chance to see the physical change in me.
"No. I don't have a single scar on my body from him."
"Fuck." My dad drops his arm and brings the gun to his side at the exact moment that I hear footsteps to my right.
"Is he on our side or theirs?" my dad asks me, his gaze not leaving Liam.
"Ours. I promise you; he's been forced into this as much as Gray and I have been." I watch my dad as he nods his head, his body posture relaxing as he goes up to Liam and takes him into a hug, patting him on the back. Liam looks as stunned as I feel.
"Charlie?" The voice is low, filled with pain and anguish, a quiet wonder as I turn and lay my sights upon one of the two men that have filled my dreams and nightmares since the first moment I found myself trapped in this hellhole.
The room stills, time slowing as I take in the outgrown and messy beard covering his lower face, the black under his eyes, the ruthless muscles soaring from his clothes and the heavy breathing of Crow. My Crow.
