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“Don’t let me go!” she gasped through her tears. She tried to climb him to get better purchase and he didn’t fight her, just held on.
“Belle, I’m worried.”
Like someone pulled the plug that held all her thoughts and feelings inside, it all spilled from her. The abuse, the violence, the cold, dark words, the rape, Marcus’s cruel ways and eventual death and how she did nothing to help him. She told Will everything.
The whole time she didn’t move, couldn’t look at Will’s face for fear of what she would see. He stroked her back throughout it all but didn’t say anything.
By the time she had it all out, exhaustion was taking over and she didn’t fight it, she would deal with the consequences of all this tomorrow. As she drifted to sleep, she wiped her face, thinking it was strange that her cheeks were damp when she no longer was crying.
*
Will swiped at his eyes, the tears finally slowing. He was shocked, horrified and enraged at what she had just revealed to him. His stomach turned at the awful things she had told him. At what she had suffered at the hands of the man who was supposed to love and protect her. At the hands of someone who resembled the devil.
Will was glad Sheriff Black was dead, only he thought that Marcus hadn’t suffered nearly enough to satisfy Will.
He took a shuddering breath, trying not to jolt her too much. He still stroked her back, soothing her as she slept. Now he was soothing himself except it wasn’t working.
His rage burned bright, his skin vibrating with it and the need to act. He needed to get this out, he could feel it bubbling up inside and soon he would erupt. He needed Beau.
Will slowly laid her down, not wanting to wake her and alert her to the level of instability he was feeling. After everything she’d been through, he didn’t want to scare her.
He shifted her, gently rolling her to the side but was reluctant to let her go. She stirred, snuffling softly in her sleep and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then her cheek and pressed his forehead to her hot skin, his eyes squeezed closed, wondering how the hell someone could hurt this woman.
He eventually left her, heading into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and then out to his car to grab the spare gym clothes he kept in there. He dressed then let Parfait into the bedroom as she paced outside the door, like she needed to check on Rebelle.
“Look after her, I’ll be back soon,” he whispered to the fussing calico.
He glanced at Rebelle again before he slipped out of the trailer and began jogging. He didn’t trust himself to drive with the way his mind was whirring away. He jogged to the gym and up the porch that ran around the house attached to the side of the gym.
He banged on the door, feeling a momentary release at the aggression. He continued pounding until the light came on and the door was flung open, Beau glaring out with Taylor peeking over his shoulder. Beau’s glare softened when he saw Will. “Everything good, man?”
Will couldn’t shake his agitated state. “I need to train.”
Disbelief crossed Beau’s face. “Now?”
An emphatic shake of his head was all Will could muster. He caught Taylor’s eye over Beau’s shoulder and her face betrayed her. She knew. She knew exactly what was wrong.
“Beau, go. He needs you,” she said, squeezing Beau’s bicep. Beau looked between them then nodded. “Head around and I’ll grab the gloves.”
Beau let them into the gym and they strapped on their gloves in silence before they turned towards the punching bag.
“You wanna talk about it or just punch the shit out of stuff?”
“Punch the shit out of stuff,” Will grunted.
“Guess that answers that. Right, let’s go, don’t fucking slack off because I’m not gonna go easy on you. Combo one on the bag!” Beau shouted, knowing exactly how to handle Will right now and Will couldn’t express his gratitude except to hit each combo as hard as he fucking could. He proceeded to pound all his rage and frustration into the bag, completing combo after combo until sweat poured from him and his knuckles and wrists ached from the impact.
“Again!” Beau barked when they were done and proceeded to rattle through the next combo. With each hit to the bag Will remembered a different snippet of Rebelle’s story. How Marcus had used her as an ash tray, marring her delicate skin. How he’d starved her. How he’d taken away everything she loved. How he’d used her body.
“Again!” Will shouted this time, adrenaline not slowing yet. When they finished on the bag, Beau grabbed the pads and strapped them to his hands.
Will hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt his friend.
“Come on!” Beau bellowed and Will decided his friend could handle it after all and then rattled off another combo. “Jab, jab, uppercut, hook, left kick, right kick, duck!”
He attacked. Beau took each impact and pushed right back, and they continued their dance.
“Fuck, shit, shit, fuck!” Will screamed with frustration, throwing his rage into each punch until he was exhausted, depleted but the rage burned bright.
