25. The Escape Artist
The Escape Artist
twenty-five
E m e r s o n
Confused, broken, and angry, I bolted away from Kane, not wanting him to see how unraveled I truly was. I tried convincing him that I had a handle on Damon—that I could take care of shit on my own. But truth be told, I had no fucking idea if I could or not. Damon was losing his fucking mind, and not only me, but the ones I loved were caught in the crossfire. It was my fault the guys were hurt. My fault the bar got shot up. All of it was my fault. All because I fucking left him. Luckily, I'm motivated by doubt, and there was plenty of it going around the beach house, so a small part of me knew that whatever I decided to do, I'd be able to put a stop to Damon and his madness.
But what was I going to do?
I didn't want to get back with him, for fucks sake. The last year of our relationship was toxic as fuck, and I had gotten to a point where I gave up on myself, allowing him to put his hands on me. I wasn't myself. I was drowning in misery and daily beatings, and I was so afraid that if I didn't leave, I'd end up drowning to death at Damon's hands. Walking away from him—my first love—was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, but I knew it had to happen.
As I thought about all the ways I had let my brother and everyone down, I kept running, flying past everyone gathered down by the porch. And much like I did with Kane, I ignored them as they called my name, rushing into the safety of the house.
I took the stairs two at a time, panting and out of breath by the time I walked into my room and slammed the door, locking it to keep everyone out. Just as I was about to drop to my knees and break down, my phone went off, immediately sending uneasy chills down my spine. I didn't feel good about it, but curiosity had me checking to see who it was and what the fuck they wanted.
I instantly regretted it, sank to the floor with my back against the door, and did my best to keep the bile from rising in my throat.
Don't cry, baby. I did all of this for you—for us.
You shouldn't have left me, Emerson. You shouldn't have walked the fuck away.
I shivered reading Damon's text, doing all I could to not look out the windows to see where he was. He was out there watching me, for sure, but I was too much of a pussy to find out where. I tried to ignore him and the messages, but they kept coming, putting me in a tough spot.
You can ignore me all you want, but I'm never going away.
Oh, I left something for you; check your top drawer.
I froze as I read the last message, feeling fear and dread seep into every bone in my body. I didn't want to get up, but I knew I had to.
My shaky legs carried me to my dresser, and with each step, I felt the bile rise a little more each time. Breathing in and out slowly, I curled my fingers around the knobs and pulled the drawer open, feeling the life drain from my body as my eyes landed on six bullets, all neatly lined up in a row on top of the new underwear I had to buy because of Damon stealing every pair that I owned.
Before I could really take in what was in front of me, my phone went off again, and I angrily reached down to snatch it off the floor.
Pick them up and look at them, Emerson.
I put my phone on top of the dresser and reached into the drawer, pulling a bullet out with trembling fingers. Carefully inspecting it, I felt my heart stop as I figured out what he was talking about, growing more fearful by the second. I dropped the bullet and picked up another, then another, and another, until I cautiously looked at all six.
Not only were there six bullets in my drawer, but carved into each one was a name.
Eli. Seven. Ace. Kane. Stone. Emerson.
I dropped the bullet and slammed the drawer shut, feeling more enraged than anything. I picked up my phone and tapped the phone icon, wanting Damon to hear me loud and clear. Of course, he answered on the first ring, a laugh in his voice as he spoke my name.
"Emerson, baby, I take it, you saw my gift?"
"It's not fucking funny, Damon. Leave me the fuck alone, and leave the guys alone, too."
"Or what, Em? Huh? What the fuck are you going to do about it?"
"Just please, stop this."
"You made your fucking bed, now you have to lie in it. I told you what you needed to do, so if you don't want to see the people you love drop dead one by one, I suggest you pack your shit and come back to where you fucking belong. You know where to find me."
He hangs up, not giving me a chance to plead my case, but he was never going to. And I knew that.
So, I rushed to my closet, found my backpack, and dumped its contents out, knowing exactly what I needed to pack. I grabbed my gun case and unlocked it, removing my pistol from the cushion and putting it into the empty bag along with an extra full clip and a change of clothes. And then I zipped it shut and got dressed in my usual riding outfit, ignoring the penetrating chill that relentlessly wracked my body.
Even dressed in tight black jeans and a black cropped sweatshirt, I was fucking shivering, hearing my teeth chatter from the fear gripping my body. I slid my knife into the ankle sheath under my pants and tried to compose myself, trying to not look like a hot mess. But fuck, it was impossible not to.
There was nothing left for me here if the guys were gone, nothing left in this life that I wanted other than my peace and safety and the peace and safety of the men I loved. I refused to sit back and watch, so I started to slide the backpack over my shoulder as I decided there was only one thing left to do—I had to go back to Damon. He was right, it was my fault and my problem, and if it was the last thing I ever did, I had a plan to make it right.
I popped Zanex like they were candy, washing them down with the rest of the water in the bottle on my nightstand, hoping I wouldn't have a panic attack before they kicked in.
With one last deep breath, I slipped out of my bedroom and made my way back to the gathering on the porch, walking out with all eyes on me.
"What's going on?" My brother asked, concern pinching his brow.
"I have to go," I said as I pushed my way through the crowd, my eyes searching for Kane, who met them with anger and worry that mirrored my own.
"Where the fuck are you going?" Seven interjected, stepping in my path to try and block me from leaving.
"I have to go," is all I said, forcing my way past them, knowing I wouldn't have much of a head start if I didn't hurry my ass out of there.
They were all wicked protective over me, and although I loved it, at times it annoyed me. And today was one of those times. I needed to take care of this on my own. I needed closure, and I only knew of one way to get exactly what I was looking for.
Stepping out of the house and into the darkness of the night, facing my fears and my demons, I climbed on my bike and quickly started it, putting my helmet on just as the guys ran around the corner to get onto theirs.
I took off at a high rate of speed, pushing the speedometer past one hundred in a matter of seconds. The wind whipped angrily against my body, trying hard to knock me off my bike, but I held onto the handlebars tightly and made the throttle my best friend, pushing limits and breaking boundaries as I tried to get far enough away from them.
But they were right behind me before I knew it, trying to box me in, so I had nowhere to go and nothing else to do but stop. I turned and looked to my right, seeing Seven on his bike right beside me. To my left, Kane was there, trying to keep up with me as my brother, Ace, and Stone stayed behind me, the six of us zooming down the winding road along the beach that led back to Boston.
All I could think about as I pushed my bike harder than ever was the six bullets with each of their names carved into them, and it gave me a surge of adrenaline that I desperately needed. I don't know how, but I managed to gain more speed, inching away from the group as I smiled under my helmet. The rush was intense, and as my bike vibrated between my legs, sending pleasurable hums throughout my body, I couldn't help feeling turned on.
Was it the risk of them catching me? Or the climbing speeds past 160 mph? I didn't know what it was that made me feel the way I did, but I fucking loved it. I focused on that feeling and lowered my chest against my bike to fight the forceful winds as each man faded into the distance behind me one by one. The only bike I heard roaring in my ears was mine. I had finally lost them. I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that I had smoked their asses in a race. Sure, it wasn't what I had in mind when I thought about racing them, but I did it regardless. And even though I knew they were pissed at me for taking off, I also knew that they were proud of me for holding my own.
I still had no fucking clue what I was going to do, but I had to figure it out soon. I had to face Damon again and put an end to this shit.
Gritting my teeth, I continued to speed down the road, feeling a mix of fear and excitement as I willingly headed straight back into the lion's den.
The sad thing was, I was prepared to not make it out of there alive.