20. Chapter 20
20
S itting in my truck with my windows down, I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. There’s no way I’m going to leave Libby here with that monster. I respected her wishes and left them in the breezeway outside the apartment, but that doesn’t mean I have to abandon her. I’ll give her the space she wants, the time she needs, to deal with him however she sees fit, but I need to know that he eventually leaves. I won’t be able to think straight until I know she’s safe.
It’s then that I hear the yelling. My fingers are still as I listen. The voice is getting louder, and it sure as hell isn’t Libby’s. Fuck this.
I make a mad dash out of my truck and take the stairs three at a time. The scene in front of me when I get to her has me losing all sense of my moral compass. The bastard has her pinned against the door, hands around her neck, spewing words I don’t even hear because my only focus is on her.
Libby’s eyes are shut, her face void of all emotion, and she isn’t trying to fight back. So this is what happens to her? She never confirmed he was the one who left the bruise on her face, though I assumed. But I also thought it was a onetime fucking thing. This is what I opened her up to by leaving them alone? It's more than just arguments and hateful words. This is torture, abuse, and she’s just taking it.
All of my control goes out the window. I reach out and grab both of his arms, holding them behind his back as I pull him away from Libby and slam his face against the wall. He thrashes around, so I tighten my grip, leaning down next to his face and make my voice clear.
“You ever touch her again and I will fucking end you. Do you understand?” He doesn’t say anything, which pisses me off, so I slam him into the wall again, causing him to let out a grunt. “I need to hear you say it,” I demand.
“Fuck you.” He spits out the blood pooling in his mouth.
“Wrong fucking answer,” is all I say before I spin him around, cock my elbow back, and smash my knuckles into his face. He howls at the contact. Clenching the front of his shirt into my fists, I bring him closer to me and he flinches like the coward he is.
“Look at me,” I roar. He reluctantly does, but keeps his eyes squinted. He’s on edge, which is exactly where he belongs. “I asked you a question and you will answer me. You don’t call her, text her, talk to her, or even look at her.” I tighten my grip on him. “Do. You. Understand.”
He nods quickly. Unacceptable. “Say it!” I bark.
“I understand,” he croaks.
I let go of his shirt and push him toward the stairs before I do anything else I'll have to pay for. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Once he is out of sight, I turn my focus towards Libby. I take inventory of her. Her body is rigid but not shaking like she normally does with a panic attack. Her breaths are shallow and narrowing in on her neck, I see her pulse slow and thumping hard. And her beautiful eyes are wide open, but there’s no panic.
“Elizabeth,” I ease. “I’m so sorry.” I take a step back so she doesn’t feel threatened. She still doesn’t say anything, and I don’t know if I should say more or give her space. I can’t see anything beyond the terror. “Tell me what you need, Libs,” I plea.
“I need you to take me inside.”
I search her face, not understanding. She needs to go inside, away from the shit that just happened out here, but I’m what happened out here, and she wants me to be in there with her? Maybe it’s the shock talking. She can’t be thinking straight.
“Libby, I–”
“Colt.” Her eyes zero in on mine. “Take me inside.”