18. Theias
18
THEIAS
“ T ank.”
Staring at the beast of a man who used to have my respect and support, I’m a little surprised at how much damage Hanger inflicted. A broken wrist and slashes across his chest that’ll require stitches. There’s a cut above one eye, and the other is black and blue–matching the one I gave him a few days ago.
“Fuck you.” He spits on the ground at my feet.
“I told you not to show your face again.” I shake my head at his snarl, which only opens the wound on his lip, causing it to bleed again. “You want a fight, Tank? With a real opponent?” He rolls his eyes at me. “Me and you, next fight night.” I extend my hand, and he eyes me warily, waiting for the punch line.
“For real?” He stands to his full height, still not big enough to intimidate me.
“As real as the cast you’ll be wearing.”
“Fine.” He takes my hand, squeezing, trying to dominate me, but it doesn’t work. I squeeze harder until he winces and nearly drops to his knees.
Leaning down, I whisper in his ear, “To the death.” His eyes widen briefly before a cocky smirk crosses his features, and he nods. Releasing him, I tell Caleb, “Tell the cops it was a misunderstanding among friends and get him treated.”
Walking away, I roll my head on my neck from shoulder to shoulder, already preparing for a fight that Tank won’t win. His time in this life is finished.
I don’t permit death matches very often; the fallout isn’t usually worth it, but this time, I have no trouble with it. One way or another, Tank was bound to die.
As I enter one of the dressing rooms in the back, my phone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, Lucas’ name flashes on the screen.
“What?” I bark.
“Well, Oliver is here.” He sounds hesitant.
“And?”
“Ella had a panic attack, passed out, and hit her head. She’s fine…now.” He hesitates, and I growl. “You should probably come home because she’s fighting us to leave, to run away after Owen had an encounter with her ex in L.A.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing they won’t let her leave. I also know that if Lucas says she’s fine, then she’s fine. A plan forms, and a sick smile spreads across my lips.
“Send the bastard an invitation to the next fight. Front row seats. VIP package. Make it lucrative, Lucas. I want him to see everything.”
“Uh, you sure about that, boss?” I can picture the confusion on his face.
“Positive. He’s going to get a front-row seat to his future.”
Hanging up with Lucas, I quickly call Dr. Edwards and request a house call. After the promise of a hefty donation, she’s on her way to see Ella while I finish wrapping things up here with the police and lie through my teeth about Tank and Hanger’s fight. After another promised donation to the police officers’ family crisis fund, I’m on my way home.
It’s after midnight when I arrive, with Lucas greeting me at the door. “You’re going to have to promise to remain calm.” Already, my hackles rise, and my rage roars to the forefront.
“Why?” I ask, with a thundering heartbeat, fists clenched at my sides, and I’m taken aback when an ambulance comes rolling up the driveway, lights flashing. “What the fuck happened?”
Pushing past my friend, I burst through the front door to find Ella sitting on a chair, eyes glazed, face pale, and swaying from side to side. Her head is bandaged, and Dr. Edwards hovers at her side while her brother stands protectively behind her.
“Ella?” Striding towards her, I crouch down, holding her face in my hands as she struggles to meet my stare.
“I have to leave,” she slurs with a hint of underlying fear that I missed before. Her pupils are blown, as well.
“You don’t have to leave, doll. I promise you’re safe here.” I’ll keep saying it until she believes me without fail.
“You don’t understand.” She winces and sways again. “He got Owen. He’ll know where we are now. I can’t let him hurt Oliver.”
Christ , I wish I could get inside her head, make her understand that I’m the wall between her and the world now.
“Everyone leave. We need a minute alone.” Nobody else needs to hear what I’m about to say to Ella.
Dr. Edwards and Oliver try to protest, but Caleb and Lucas usher them outside, along with the paramedics who are about to enter, closing the door behind themselves.
“Eyes, Ella, give them to me.” I keep my voice low but assert some dominance so she focuses on me. “Blake Ramsey will not find you. And if he does, he’ll find me first, and I’m not letting anybody between you and me.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I stop her with a gentle finger on her lips. “I mean it, doll. I am going to keep you and”–I place a hand on her belly–“our baby safe. That is my job, and the only one I want for the rest of my life. Will you please trust me on this? Trust me to keep you and your family safe.”
I’m not entirely sure what convinces her, but she finally nods before her eyes roll in the back of her head, and she pales even more. She barely manages to get out, “Sick,” before turning sideways and puking all over the floor.
“Owen!” The door cracks open. “Let the medics and doc in. She got a concussion?”
They said she had hit her head, but I was more concerned with quelling her fear so she would accept medical treatment.
Dr. Edwards says, “I suspect so, although she’s also been in a severe state of panic, which helps nothing. I’d like her to spend the night at the hospital and see a concussion specialist I know that’ll meet us there.” Nodding my approval, I step back as the two men approach to take care of my future bride.
Oliver stands off to the side, trying to look brave, but I recognize the worry in his eyes. I go over to him as Ella gets taken care of.
“Your sister said Blake got to Owen, and from the looks of you, I’d say he got to you too.”
Keeping one eye on Ella, I watch Oliver for deceit. I anticipate him trying to lie to save his sister the heartbreak because the guilt she already harbors is palpable.
“He got there just after Owen showed up. My parents were already arguing with me, so nobody saw Blake until it was too late. He sucker punched Owen; I sucker punched him .” The protective streak in this kid could almost rival my own one day.
“And this?” I tilt his chin to the side to get a better look at the cut flesh on his cheek. It doesn’t need stitches but could use a better cleaning than the hack job done before they left L.A.
“Caught an elbow when Owen schooled Blake.” The sly look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. Blake is feeling whatever Owen inflicted on him.
“You ice it?” He shakes his head. “We’ll get you an ice pack at the hospital after they clean it up.” He tries to insist he’s fine, but I stop him. “Your sister will only worry more if you still look like you’ve been in a brawl. She’s going to need as little stress as possible over the next few weeks.”
He’s quiet as we follow the paramedics out and watch them load Ella up. Dr. Edwards goes with her, and I drive Oliver and me behind them.
His question catches me off guard. “Do you think he did it the whole time?”
“Did what?” I have my suspicions about certain things, but I’m unsure how much he knows about their life together.
“Beat her.” His voice wavers with emotion. “Ella was so happy when they started dating. They were happy. I thought so, anyway. Then one day, like a month after she moved in with him, she refused to come to our weekly family dinner. We didn’t see her for a month, and when we finally did, she had two broken ribs, a twisted knee, and there were fingerprints on her throat.”
Fuck. Battling back my rage is brutal when all I want to do is turn around, drive to L.A., and slit this motherfucker’s throat. But I can’t be reckless right now, and it kills me.
“I think it’s likely. She would have hidden it the best she could, though, because she wanted to protect you guys from him. She was likely ashamed and blaming herself.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Ella probably thought she deserved his punishments because men like him aren’t truly happy unless they’re hurting the ones they claim to love. She probably never did a damn thing to deserve any of it, but he would have manipulated her into believing it was her fault.”
“But why? She never could have fought back.” His tears glint on his cheeks as we pass under a streetlight.
Reaching over to squeeze his shoulder gently, I try to soothe him. “There will never be a reason that’ll make sense for men like us. Blake is the type of man who thrives on control and making sure the people in his life believe he has all the power. Anything Ella did to try to appease him, he would have found fault in her actions or words.”
“I could have helped her.” He sounds so fucking small.
“Maybe, but not likely. The thing with women in that situation is that they have to want to get out. They need to have a reason to finally say enough. It’s scary for anyone watching from the outside, but it had to be her decision.”
“I’m glad she was sent to you.”
“Me too, kid. Me, too.” I can’t fucking believe I almost sent her away before I’d ever met her.
The conversation with Oliver only makes me wonder just how much she has endured. What the prick did to her and how much she’s hiding from me, from her family. The brutality and lack of care that Blake has shown towards her own brother are more telling than he’d like to believe.
Typically, a man like that will try to charm their victims’ families into convincing the woman to go back to him. To forgive him. It’ll be over my dead body before that ever happens. I’d rather die than allow her to come to any more harm.