Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Weston
“Let’s go,” I shout, already running toward the door, keys in hand.
I don’t need the results from whatever Uncle Cole is looking into for Ezra. That wasn’t surprise in Berlyn’s voice. It was fear.
True, unadulterated terror at seeing her father’s face standing at her front door. It’s the only thing I need to know. My girl isn’t safe.
Living ten minutes from her has never felt like a big deal, we’ve always had instant access to her. She’s only ever been a few clicks away. Watching her through the screen had been enough for so long, ten minutes felt like child’s play.
We might have well as been on the other side of the world for how long those ten minutes drag out.
Watching Sheriff Matthews get in Berlyn’s face, back her into a corner as he yells and berates her.
Watching the way she freezes and cowers, a blank mask slipping over her features as she nods her head with empty eyes.
Even through the screen I can feel her leaving her body.
My hands sweat and Jude grips my shoulder, watching my phone over my shoulder as Ezra drives us across town. Her father’s voice is the only sound filling the car, with each word he screams in Berlyn’s face, the tension in the car rises higher.
Why is he here?
How did he learn about her stalkers?
And why the fuck instead of being concerned for his daughter’s safety, is he acting like she’s a common whore and this is her fault?
I’ve never been a fan of the egotistical bastard. More than anyone else in town, he looked down on us. But this? I never imagined he was even more heinous behind closed doors. What else has Berlyn been forced to endure? To survive?
Her father leaves as quickly as he showed up, leaving her on the floor, holding her arms where he grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises. She shakes and trembles, curling into a ball on the hard floor. She doesn’t cry. Frozen in time as if she’s completely shut down. Turned off.
Fuck.
A white hot rage like I’ve never experienced makes it hard to even breathe through the burning pain in my chest. I don’t give a fuck who he is. He’s a dead man walking. There won’t be a liver left to gift to Berlyn when I’m done with him either.
There’s no sign of him by the time we turn onto Berlyn’s street. He was in and out so quickly, staying just long enough to cause irrevocable damage and then blow back out. He promised her he’d be back, but she won’t be here by the time he circles around.
She’s coming home with us if I have to carry her kicking and screaming out of that house. Though I doubt there’s any real possibility of that happening. Hopefully she knows she can lean on us now.
Ezra doesn’t even have the chance to fully stop the car before I’m jumping out, Jude hot on my heels. I hear his curses as he throws the car in park and is only a few steps behind, but all I can focus on is the open front door.
“Berlyn,” I shout her name, even as I run to her. Catching sight of her damn near breaks me. Worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’d take every day of starvation, every hit, every insult, every awful thing my parents did to me as a kid tenfold if it meant Berlyn never knew this type of pain.
Falling to our knees, Jude and I reach her at the same time, surrounding her. Jude pulls her into his lap, and I cup her face with my hands, lifting her head until she’s looking at me. She’s not really seeing anything though.
“We’ve got you, B,” I murmur, kissing her forehead as Jude nuzzles into her neck. Ezra joins us, grabbing her hand.
“Let’s get her inside,” he suggests, looking over his shoulder and warily eyeing the open door. We already are inside, but for once I think I understand what he means. We should close and lock the door until we can get her out of here.
I release her face, allowing Jude to stand with her in his arms. She’s nearly catatonic, completely unaware of our presence as he carries her into her bedroom. Ezra locks the door and sets the alarm behind us.
Jude carries her into her room, crawling into bed with her. She still hasn’t acknowledged us, but some of the tension in her shoulders eases as she melts in his arms. Ezra and I both climb into bed with them, one on either side of her as Jude rests her across his chest.
Tears begin to stream down her cheeks and her body shakes. It physically pains me to see her crying, and yet anything is better than the numb. Where she feels unreachable even as I can feel her heart beating under my hand.
“Come back to us, Baby Girl,” Jude murmurs, kissing her head. Ezra wipes the tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Let us in. Let us help,” he begs, and I’ve never seen my brothers so torn up. Not when our parents all died. Not even when we thought we may end up being split up. Even as kids we knew we’d find our way back to each other.
This is completely different though. A type of pain we won’t ever be able to erase for her. This isn’t the response of a daughter who has a tense relationship with her father. This is trauma.
I’m going to skin that fucker alive.
“We’re going to protect you,” I promise, kissing her shoulder and squeezing her hip. The need to comfort her ingrained in my very soul.
Sobs wrack her body and we all hold her tighter. “He takes,” she whispers through broken sobs. “He takes and takes,” she cries, burying her face in Jude’s chest. We continue to stroke her, wherever we can get our hands. The only comfort we have to offer right now.
Everything in me wants to pick her up and run. Lock her away from everyone and everything. Somewhere where no one can hurt her ever again. It isn’t what she would want though. That constant thought replaying in my mind is the only thing keeping me from doing so.
“I don’t want him to take you,” she sobs.
Oh, our sweet girl. She’s worried about us, but what she fears will never come true. We’ve worked too hard, come too far, and have far more powerful allies than a Sheriff from a small town in the middle of nowhere.
He’s truly nothing compared to us.
Doesn’t make him any less of a monster to our girl though. One who will have to pay the price for that. Soon.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Ezra promises her and Jude laughs.
“Yeah, we’re stronger than we look,” he jokes, trying to get a smile out of her, but her eyes are too wide with fear to fully hear them.
Her breathing begins to grow more erratic, her chest heaving as her eyes fly around the room in a dazed panic.
I pull her to me, kissing her softly. “Don’t do that,” I command and for a second she holds her breath, but nothing about her relaxes. I stand with her. We’re going home. Where we know her father can’t show up and interrupt us. She needs time. Needs a reset.
“You can’t just demand her panic attack to stop,” Ezra criticizes, but I shrug, making her whole body move as I head for the door.
“It did kind of work,” Jude points out, climbing out of the bed after me. “Are we going home?”
I nod, looking at the confusion and terror still swirling in Berlyn’s gaze as she looks up at me. “Try and figure out what I smell like,” I tease her, holding her closer to my chest. Her nose scrunches. “There’s going to be a test,” I whisper.
It’s not quite a smile, but her anxiety isn’t quite as sharp as it wafts off her in palpable waves. “You guys don’t understand,” she murmurs, hanging her head. Her lower lip trembles and she sinks her teeth into it in an effort to stop.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I say sternly and she immediately releases her lip from her teeth’s abuse. Maybe that’s what she needs. For someone else to take control. I can understand that. I eye Ezra and he nods his understanding.
“You’re coming home with us,” he tells her, his voice hardening with the command. “You’re going to let us take care of you,” he continues and her body relaxes a little more. “And you’re going to trust us to handle this.”
Her hands brush over the bruises already forming on her upper arms. “He’s evil,” she whispers, but doesn’t argue as I carry her out of her house and towards the car. “He went to talk to the cops,” she continues, shaking. “He’s going to come back.”
“And you’re not going to be here,” Jude assures her, closing and locking the front door behind us. “He won’t know where to look for you.”
Her breath starts to catch in her throat again. “He’s going to be so mad.”
“Trust us,” Ezra cuts her off. It’s not that simple.
We all know it, but the sharp demand does help her take a deep breath.
I keep Berlyn secure in my arms in the backseat the entire ten minute drive back to our house.
It doesn’t feel as torturously long on the way back.
Now that I’m holding my girl and not being forced to watch her being hurt.
Berlyn leans her head on my shoulder, her gaze locked on the trees flying past the window as Ezra drives us a little too fast in his hurry to put as much distance between her and her father.
“He likes to be in control,” she murmurs and while she doesn’t seem as panicked, it feels like she’s slipping away again. A wall coming up between us even as she leans into my touch. “He’s not going to let this slide. There’s going to be a punishment.”
The word sends a chill down my spine, too reminiscent of my own demons.
“He takes,” she repeats, her voice breaking on the word.
What has he done to our girl? What has she had to survive all on her own?
“Sleep,” I command, cupping her cheek with my hand. She’s too lost in the chaos of her own mind to process any of this. Too exhausted and spread too thin. She needs rest. Needs to give her mind a break so it can protect her however she needs it to.
Tears soak into my shirt, but they’re silent as they stream down her face. By the time we reach our house, she’s sleeping in my arms. Not peacefully, but we’ll get there.
I lead my brothers into the house and straight to my bed where I tuck her in against my chest and Ezra pulls the blanket over us.