Chapter 66 Sawyer
Chapter sixty-six
Sawyer
Mercer and Noah turn to me, blinking. Like I’m the one randomly hanging out in a dark barn twenty minutes before a massive event starts.
My mind is reeling, and I could really use backup. I’m glad I found them both. Three students haven’t checked in for their assignments yet. One of the volunteers has a nosebleed, and I need access to the house so I can pilfer a roll of paper towels.
What are they doing out here in the dark anyway? They were yelling, which is how I knew where to find them to begin with. I don’t have the time or patience for the argument they’re having.
Smack.
I jump at the sound and squint into the shadows behind them.
“What was that?” I take a step closer.
“It’s not what it—” Mercer grits out.
At the same time, Noah says, “We just wanted to talk to him—”
Him.
Him?
An eerie sense of knowing shrouds me before my brain catches up to what’s happening. Another bang echoes through the barn. It’s hard and desperate and so senselessly out of place.
Heart suddenly thundering, I rush to the storage shed in the corner.
“Out! Let me fucking out!”
Tytus.
He’s in there. He’s inside this tiny enclosure, and the door is latched shut.
Just like before.
Just like his nightmares.
My knees buckle, but I refuse to go down.
Without turning to face either Mercer or Noah, I demand, “Tytus is in there?”
My voice is shrill yet steady.
“You locked him in a fucking shed?”
“Sawyer,” he cries, his voice hoarse.
This time, I do lose my footing.
Stumbling against the door, I cry out. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay, Ty. Just hang on.”
Rather than settle, his shouts get louder and he pounds harder. The vibrations against the metal door send tremors through my limbs. I reach for the latch, but I can’t grasp it. My hands are too shaky.
“Hold on,” I plead.
I tug at the latch, but my grip slips again.
“Help me,” I seethe over my shoulder.
As if my words flip a switch, both men leap into action and rush over.
“Sawyer…”
Ty’s sob is broken, ricocheting off the deepest corners and darkest places of my heart.
“Hurry,” I sob, angrily swiping at the tears blurring my vision.
Crying won’t get him out any faster.
Cursing, Mercer fumbles with the latch, but he gets nowhere.
Rage bubbles inside me with each passing second.
“Get him out.”
“I’m trying,” he snaps. “The latch is bent. Your husband must have damaged it while he slammed into it over and over again like a caged animal.”
A sharp pain lances my chest, stealing my breath. I crane back as if I’ve been physically struck.
He did this.
Mercer did this on purpose.
Tytus is locked in his own personal hellscape, probably injuring himself further, because of Mercer.
With a shake of my head, I vow to deal with that later. For now, all that matters is freeing Ty. I smack Noah’s arm, fury burning through me. “Do something.”
He nods and steps back, scanning the dark space. After a moment, he straightens, then he strides toward the door and picks up a small shovel. “Stand clear,” he says as he storms back.
He drives the metal end of the shovel between the latch and the door, but it only damages the closure further.
“Noah,” I beg, my entire body trembling.
“Hang on,” he grits out.
“Ty, stand back,” I yell. “Get as far from the door as you can.”
He only pounds more intensely in response. He’s going berserk, the whole enclosure shaking violently, making it harder for Noah to get proper aim.
“He’s a lunatic,” Mercer sneers.
“He’s the lunatic? You’re the one who put a human being in a fucking cage, Professor,” I snap back.
My words are punctuated by a heart-dropping thud.
Then everything goes still.
The pounding stops. The screaming ceases. The only sounds come from the three of us as we pant and gape at the shed.
That’s when I really start to panic.
“Ty?” I beg, lunging closer. “Ty, please. Ty, it’s okay.” When he doesn’t answer, I turn to Noah. “Get him out.”
Rather than use the small shovel again, he takes off.
Shit. I have to call the police—or the fire department—to get him out. We need help. We need backup, now.
While Noah rummages around nearby, I turn to Mercer. “Why is he even in there? What were you fucking thinking?”
Noah returns, this time with an axe.
“Stand back.” He lifts the tool overhead and brings it down on the latch, chopping it clean off.
Without the external resistance, the shed door flies open.
Ty’s lifeless body slumps forward in a heap.
My knees give out. As I hit the ground, I reach for him. I need to feel him. To check his breathing. To ensure he’s in there somewhere.
The stench of vomit and urine infiltrates my nostrils as I hover over his body.
“Tytus. It’s okay. I’m here.”
When I rest a hand on his chest and instantly find his thundering heartbeat, I breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s washed away by a sense of horror a second later, though, when I discover the crimson stain seeping along the side of his shirt.
The stain is warm. Wet. It’s growing at a rapid pace.
His injuries.
“He’s bleeding!” Oh god. We don’t even know the extent of his original injuries. Now this? “Call for help,” I scream. “Now.”
I shift and ease Ty’s head into my lap.
With trembling fingers, I brush the sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “Please, Ty,” I plead, bringing my lips to his clammy, overheated skin. “Don’t leave me. You have to be okay. We have to be okay.”
Every word escapes with a hiccup, my plea punctuated by a painful breath.
You have to be okay.
We have to be okay.
The stain continues to grow, the blood bright against the cream color of his T-shirt. So similar to the blood pooling around my mom on the kitchen floor.
I hate blood.
There’s so much blood.
Ty coughs, sputtering, wheezing.
When the coughing finally subsides, I sit up and survey him once more.
He’s covered in blood, spatters of it all over his light-colored shirt, trails running out of his mouth and down his chin.
There’s blood everywhere.
I soothe him as best as I can, holding him to me as if I can stop the bleeding with sheer willpower.
He starts to shake.
He doesn’t stop.
I silently sob as he trembles in my arms.
“Help is on the way,” I hear someone say.
Who? I don’t know. Nor do I care.
Ty stops shaking, his body going limp in my arms.
My heart shatters into tiny fractals around us.
Is he—
No.
I refuse to even think it.
Anything but Tytus being okay is unfathomable.
My chest aches as I gasp for breath, arms straining as I try to hold him tighter.
Vision fading in and out, I whip my head around and search the space for Mercer.
He did this.
With intention.
He put Tytus in a cage, locked the door, and let him hurt himself so badly he’s now lifeless in my arms.
When I finally find Mercer with his hands on his knees in a corner, I choke back a sob. That snags his attention. I feel his eyes on me. Even through the dark, I hold his gaze, ensuring he feels the depth of my ire.
“I will never fucking forgive you for this.”