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“Why?” The question leaves my mouth in a whoosh as he hoists me up by my throat.
Was he always this strong?
“Why?” A sinister quirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
My face is pulsing with pain and throbbing with every erratic beat of my heart. My eyeballs feel as though they’re about to pop when he throws me against the kitchen counter, sending everything on it to the ground with me.
The scream that erupts from me as the toe of his boot connects with my side splits my own ears. My throat rips raw.
Still, all I pray is that Arabella is okay. She has to be okay.
“Shhh…” Charles’ large hand covers my mouth as he stands over me, feet pressing down just above my knee with so much force that I can’t move. He’s pinning me down. My bones are threatening to crack with his weight on me.
“This isn’t my fault, you know. It’s hers. Stupid fucking bitch couldn’t keep her nose out of my business, even after I gave her a chance to make good for what she did with my mate.”
Hot tears pour from my eyes. Much to my disdain and frustration, I can’t stop them because I am scared. I’m scared that this is it and I’m going to leave Grace. That after everything, with happiness in sight, this is how it ends for me and Arabella.
Stepping off me, he falls to his haunches, hand squeezing my raw face. There’s nothing I can do but grit the pain between my teeth.
I fist my hands over his wrist, forcing it away from my face with all the strength I have inside of me.
“You’re going to die.”
“Not before you.” He shakes free of my grasp and slams the back of his hand across my face. “You should’ve stuck with me. She should’ve stuck with me. I loved her, but she had to fuck everything up like she fucked him again and again and again.”
In a way I feel for him. He has no idea what real love is. I doubt he knows the meaning of the word as a throwaway string of sound.
“She loved him.”
Buying myself some time, I scuttle on my butt, trying to put distance between me and the man whose love and affection I once would’ve done anything for.
I’m looking for any escape as my phone starts
ringing. The hope I’ve been holding on to flames brighter.
Thank fuck.
The phone quiets for all of two seconds before it starts again. It sounds louder this time, although I know it’s not. Worry flashes across Charles’ face, and I’m certain he knows he’s fucked now.
“They’re coming. I can feel it, can’t you?”
Standing, he looks down on me. I swallow down the fear that’s trying to overwhelm me. The ringing cuts out, followed by the slam of the back door.
A welcome distraction as I drag myself away and try to get to my feet using the handle of one of the kitchen drawers for support. My body is aching. With my face crusted in blood, it’s difficult to breathe properly. Regardless, the little air I manage to pull through the dried blood burns through my airways.
I set my eyes on the knife block on the island he’s standing by. My eyesight is too hazed by the pounding in my head for me to find the gun on the cluttered floor. All I need is to get to it.
“What?” Charles’ loud yell snaps my eyes to him and then to the back door of the kitchen.
It’s wide open with the garden lights blocked out by the man standing in the doorway.
That’s why they sent Ryan for him. The Chief of Defence stands there. A man that knows this house inside out where he’s been here so many times. A man that gave me his sincere condolences when my mother died.
Every move I make is a wrecking ball of pain. My side, my face, my chest. I can’t stomach it. After childbirth, I thought I could take anything.
“We need to get the fuck out of here now!” The angry shout from the doorway makes my head throb harder as two large bags hit the floor with a ricocheting thwack.
“I’m not finished yet.”
