Chapter 28 #2
I remember everything. A swell of yearning brushes shoulders with my burning anger, and I blink rapidly against the overwhelming emotion. “Yes,” I answer hoarsely. “I love him more than I ever thought I could love a man.”
“I can see that you do.” Montgomery’s too soft fingers grab my chin and force me to look into the face of the man who inflicted so much pain and trauma on me.
“Too bad he doesn’t love you in return. Otherwise he would be here by now, wouldn’t he?
But now I’ve taken both you and the little brat off his hands, and he must be so grateful. ”
He wants to break me.
To crush my spirit with his words and his cane.
I won’t let him.
A hot tear streaks down my cheek, but I let it fall until it drips onto the dirty wooden floor.
Let him think that it’s because of him. It doesn’t matter what he thinks.
No matter the distance between me and Warren, I can almost feel his words slipping into my chest and matching every beat of my heart.
Stay strong, wife, he whispers from wherever he is. I’m on my way.
And it’s this love that gives me hope.
And a plan.
“Unbutton my pants and take me out.” All traces of false compassion disappear from Montgomery’s voice as his hands settle heavily on my shoulders.
On instinct, I shrug away the unwelcome and too-familiar touch of someone other than Warren.
A beat of silence is my only warning before my cheek blooms with pain and my vision darkens.
That son of a bitch. “You slapped me!” My hate-filled, watery gaze crashes into his sick and amused one as blood fills my mouth.
He grabs my wrist in a tight grip before I can rub away much of the throbbing pain. “Lessons begin now, Mara. Not accepting my touch in any regard is unacceptable. Now thank me for correcting you.”
The anticipation on his face tells me he would love nothing more than for me to refuse.
That’s enough reason for me to give him the words, because words mean nothing in the face of survival.
“Thank you for your correction,” I grit out around the coppery mixture in my mouth, utterly despising the way his goddamn cock twitches in his pants.
If I knew it wouldn’t earn me a fist instead of a slap, I’d spit the bloody mouthful onto his expensive boots.
“Hmm…seems we still need to work on your gratitude.” He forces my hand over his disgusting bulge before moving his own hands back to my shoulders. “As you were. Keep in mind that your obedience determines more than just your own well-being.”
My stomach folds in on itself at the obvious threat towards Emmaline and Sullivan.
I subtly glance around the room again, taking note of the sleeping children, the gun on the fireplace, and the cane within reach.
Closer reach to me than him now that he’s standing.
It’s no frying pan like Dove had, but I know exactly how much pain it can wield in the hands of someone meaning to do harm.
Even though I hate it with every ounce of hatred within me, I actually do need his pants to be undone.
The pounding heartbeat in my fingertips matches the pulsing of my cheek as I methodically work at his buttons as much as I can without coming into contact with his skin.
When his erection pops out, I stifle a harsh laugh even though I know it may cost me another slap.
I’ve become so used to Warren’s that I’d almost forgotten how much bigger he was than everyone else.
Montgomery stiffens. Well, most of him. The other part droops a little. “What’s so funny?”
Besides the fact that my husband’s cock at rest is bigger than his pitiful manhood could ever hope to be at full attention? “Nothing. I had to cough. I think the rain and my wet dress…”
His eyes narrow as my words trail off. “I want your mouth.” Of course he has no care for my imaginary potential illness.
Not when it was meant to be punishment. My mouth isn’t going anywhere near the repulsive piece of flesh between his legs, but I nod and force my fingers to slide up his thighs.
This day is the last day I will ever touch him.
His breathing deepens the closer I come to his sagging, lopsided balls, and his hands thread behind his neck as he readies himself for pleasure.
“You want my mouth?” I keep my tone subdued, half tempted to bite the leaning erection bobbing in front of my face. But I don’t want his taste, even if only blood, tainting my lips. Bad enough that I’ll need to scald my hands to wash the feel of him from me.
“I’m not taking you with me for polite conversation over tea, that’s for damn sure.”
Bastard. I take hold of his unappealing cock with one hand, and when he closes his eyes and groans at the promise of pleasure, I know it’s now or never.
I tighten my grip to hold him steady while I curl my other fingers into a fist. Every man’s weakness is what hangs between their thighs, and this is going to be his undoing.
“Quit testing me, Mara. I said I want your—” Whatever he meant to say disappears on a choked breath when I twist his shaft and punch the wrinkled bag that holds his balls, three times in quick succession and with all the hatred I held inside of me for years and years.
He doubles over and retches, and I grab his cane before scrambling to my feet.
“Never again,” I hiss, bludgeoning the back of his head over and over as he locks his knees together and fumbles to protect his groin and head. “Never. Again.”
“You…you stupid fucking bitch,” Montgomery wheezes as blood drips from his hairline and onto the floor.
He blindly throws out an arm, but I sidestep it and swing again.
Grimly satisfied with the loud crack of wood against his nose, I strike him again, and this time, he falls to his hands and knees.
But I’m just getting started. Now that he’s down, he has to stay there.
“Thank me for correcting you, you bastard!” I kick him between the legs after another resounding thunk of the cane to his head.
“Count out your punishment if you can reach that high. You’re never hurting anyone ever again.
” Not me, my children, or any other innocent person.
I don’t even know if I’m trying to kill him or beat him into unconsciousness, but I can’t stop.
Not even when sweat makes my grip slide and my arms ache from the strain.
I don’t know how long I carry on, but when he finally stops moving, my body gives out.
The cane clatters to the floor, and I stumble backwards until the wall meets my back.
A broken laugh cuts through the ringing in my ears.
I search for who else magically entered the room, but it’s just me.
“I did it,” I whisper in a voice as shaky as my arms. “You lose, you bastard.”
I kick him once more between the legs simply because I can. I don’t want my back to him in case he’s only pretending to be unconscious, but when he doesn’t move, I turn to check on my children. We need to grab the weapons and leave before he wakes up.
But when I see Sullivan, my lungs stall. No longer asleep, he watches warily from beneath the blanket, covering Emmaline’s ears as his little mouth moves in a quiet lullaby to keep her asleep. How much did he see?
“It’s all right now,” I tell him softly. “Everything’s all right.”
“Are you hurt?” Sullivan’s worried, feverish eyes dart from Montgomery to my hands.
No, not just my hands. More so to the red droplets that sprayed onto me while I was on the giving end of a punishment for once. I quickly wipe them on the back of my dress. “No, darling, I’m not hurt.” Except for the dull throbbing where I was slapped.
Sullivan sits up and drags his sleeve across his nose. “He’s gonna be mad when he wakes up. Really really mad. You better go. And I’ll tell him I didn’t see nothing.”
If Montgomery wakes up...if I didn’t kill him…
he will most definitely be mad. Madder than I’ve ever seen him before, so Sullivan is right about that.
But I don’t plan on any of us being here if that happens.
“I have a better idea,” I reply with a voice that’s somehow steadier than my limbs.
“Why don’t you come with us? You can live with me and you’ll never have to see him again. ”
His face brightens cautiously. “You mean it? I won’t have to live with him no more?”
“No. Never again. It’ll be you and me and Emmaline and—”
The door breaks open against the cabin wall, and as I lunge for the cane, three men with guns fill the doorway.
Three men who I’ve never been more happy to see in all my life.
But I lock onto the first one who calls my name in a husky voice.
The one whose beautiful brown eyes move from me, to the unmoving man on the floor, the bloodied cane I wield, and then back to me.
The cane drops from my slack hands as I dare to believe what I’m seeing.
“Warren?” My trembling lips form his name.
But it must be more than a dream, because Cornelius says, “Go on, son. I’ll keep watch over this son of a bitch. Go see to your wife.”
Then Warren is here. Cold and wet and in front of me, holding me so tightly I can scarcely breathe as he presses hard kisses over my hair.
And here in his embrace that smells like fire and rain and home, the shield around my heart drops and the tears begin to flow.
“You found me.” My words hit his shirt, but he hears them all the same. “You finally found me.”
“Always, wife. I’ll always find you, no matter what. I’m sorry it took me so long. I got here as soon as I could. Please tell me you forgive me.” Pained desperation coats his words as his heart pounds frantically beneath my ear.
I squeeze him as tightly as I can, not caring that his clothes are wet. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
He pushes me back enough to look me up and down. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did you do that to him? Let me look at you. Your hair’s all undone.”