Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
I wake up with a quiet scream.
It’s all I can muster, my throat tightening as I try to take in a deep breath. My chest is heaving, my vision blurry, and body’s trembling. Gasp after gasp leaves my mouth, the memories slowly resurfacing.
The way their hands felt all over my body, their menacing assaults, their degrading words. Some memories are old, amongst the first times Paul ever raped me. Then, it slowly morphed into the recent events, ones that I forgot happened entirely.
Nausea overwhelms me, tears pouring out of the corners of my eyes. The disgust I felt toward myself for years starts coming back in waves, and it explains the trembling state of my body.
All of this is too fucking much.
It takes me a couple of minutes to realize that I’m in the bathroom. I’ve never fallen asleep in the bathtub before, and the water went cold a long time ago. With a trembling sigh, I reach for the edges of the tub, pushing myself up and stepping out.
The soft towel doesn’t warm me up nearly enough, and I’m quick to dry off and change into the clothes I brought with me. Before leaving the bathroom, I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror.
The fear and the pain I’ve endured are etched on my face. I’m not even sure what Arlo sees in me — because physically speaking, I’m nothing special. Brown hair, brown eyes, a few freckles here and there.
I’m not one of a kind; I’m not unique.
And Arlo? He’s one in a million. That kind of a man isn’t born every day.
He has that something that makes his dangerous aura alluring.
He’s handsome, kind, and despite what he does for a living, he has a soul of gold.
The love he has for me is unconditional, filled with desire and the need to protect me.
I’m a very selfish person. Although I know he can do so much better than someone as flawed and as traumatized as me, I’ll never be able to let him go.
The thought of him leaving me or being with someone else fills me with so much rage that I’m on the edge of bursting.
Jealousy is a terrible look on me, yet I can’t help it.
It’s as though it has been instilled in my very being that Arlo and I belong together, and anyone trying to tear us apart should be taken care of.
Somehow, I get used to the temperature, and I’m no longer as cold.
Quickly, I skim through the cabinets of the bathroom, looking for the small packet of heroin I hid there a couple of days prior.
Having full access to their base means having access to heroin.
I’m riding the wave until someone finds out, and I’ll figure it out from there.
With a deep breath, I create a small line, holding one nostril while inhaling through the other. Over time, I got used to it. I got faster, too, but the feeling of the drug rushing through my veins is something I’ll never get over. Nothing could ever replace this feeling.
I take a couple of moments to compose myself, then clean up after myself, and hide the heroin in the back of the cabinet. Once I’m certain there’s nothing to see, I turn on my heel and walk out of the bathroom.
The clothes I laid out for myself before the bath consist of a pair of sweatpants, a fitted long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of sneakers that just seem comfortable enough. Arlo did all the shopping for me, making sure all of the clothes are comfortable and easy to move in.
The apartment we’re in is small, just a room bigger than the studio where Luna died. It’s in the same building, just one floor above. It’s cozy, and we have everything we need, but I miss Arlo’s penthouse. I miss waking up to him playing piano or just spending time with him.
I wish all of this would end already.
It’s going to happen soon. I can feel it on my fingertips; the end of Paul Simmons is near. Alexander is dead, Nelson is confined in chains, and the other two can continue hiding, but they should know that no one can hide from the Ghost.
Just the thought itself fills my chest with pride, blooming inside me. My man is that powerful, and being by his side does make me feel more confident in everything we’re about to endure.
Quickly, I toss on the clothes that are spread on the bed before me, sliding into the sneakers. I need to get to the meeting in time but stop dead in my tracks when I glance outside.
My face splits into a grimace, and a small groan follows. It’s already too dark. The meeting should be done by now, and I missed it. I know Arlo won’t mind since I fell asleep, but I still feel terrible for missing out on potentially important discussions.
The front door of the apartment opens, and I sit up straight on the bed. I can tell from the footsteps it’s Arlo, and my heart flutters when he enters the bedroom.
He’s wearing all black — a turtleneck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of pants, and a belt to tie it all together. A pair of Dr. Marten boots is on his feet, the expensive watch on his wrist glimmering in the light.
His hair falls down his shoulders, slicked back slightly. And those damned eyes — holy shit. When he looks at me, everything around me disappears. He’s all I can focus on, all I can think of. Hell, if it were possible, I’d breathe him in until I can’t take it anymore.
He strolls toward me, immediately bending down to press a kiss to my forehead, my eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. I bask in the moment while his scent surrounds me. All of my worries melt away momentarily, and I’m at peace.
“You alright, butterfly?”
Arlo’s soft voice reaches my ears, and my eyes open. He steps back a little, his eyes glued on me as he removes his wristwatch. I’m not sure why such a simple action gets the butterflies in my stomach running and going wild, but it does.
“Yes,” I say. “I slept through the meeting. I’m sorry.”
Arlo chuckles, walking over to the bedside table and putting the watch on it. “Don’t worry about it. Rest up,” he offers a small smile, then pulls out his wallet from his pocket, setting it next to the watch.
My eyes follow the movement just as something falls out of his pocket. I blink, brows creasing together, as I try to understand what I’m seeing.
“You dropped something.”
Arlo looks down, then bends to pick it up. He offers me a sheepish smile, then sits right next to me. My heart instantly warms up when I see that it’s the blue ribbon he’d given me before I was taken. I lost it at some point and haven’t seen it since.
It’s worn out, dirty in some places, and clearly torn. It’s no longer the pretty bow that used to be on my head, and instead it’s something that Arlo seems to be holding onto.
“You still have that.” I flick my eyes upward. “Why?”
“When you were kidnapped, this was the first thing I found. I was holding onto it because, in a way, it was my sanity line. It was all I had to keep holding on. It was something uniquely yours, and just keeping it on my wrist or in my pocket gave me the strength to push forward.”
“Baby…”
Arlo’s soft smile is like a ray of sunshine. I’ll never know how so many people are terrified of him when he looks at me like this. He looks at me like I’m the only person that matters, like he’d burn this world down for me — and he fucking did.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, stroking my cheek with his index finger. The motion is so soft, so tender, and I’m left a puddle, a putty mess in his hands.
“I love you, butterfly.” The raw emotion in his voice tugs on my heartstrings.
“What happened back then is all my fault. You’ve gone through shit that you never should’ve experienced because I was careless.
It’s my fault, and I need you to know that nothing will ever happen to you again.
I vow to you, on my life, no one will ever lay their hands on you again. I’ll protect you with my life.”
“No, we’re not doing this again.’’ I take his hand in mine, the ribbon resting between our palms. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I shouldn’t have gone with you. It happened, and it’s no one’s fault but Simmons’.”
Arlo’s jaw clenches at the mention of Paul, his hand tightening around mine. It’s not painful, but the grip is for him. For him to know I’m here and I won’t be anywhere.
This would probably be a terrible time to tell him I’ve been having flashbacks. At this point, I can’t tell what’s real, what’s a part of my imagination, or simply a nightmare. The things I’ve gone through the second time are foggy, and in a way, I’d prefer for them to stay like that.
Remembering it all now will be terrible for me. The pain and hurt it took years to heal will slash through the same old scars, tearing into them and creating a wound so big that no one will be able to heal it. I won’t be able to heal it.
So, I keep my mouth shut. Hurting Arlo and sending him into a spiral could potentially mean he’ll relapse, and I’d rather die than be the cause of it.
“It is,” he argues.
“Please, baby,” my voice cracks as I cup his cheek, the warmth of his face sending shivers down my body. “Don’t do this. I could blame everyone in this world, but not you. Never you. You’re the reason I’m still alive.”
He sighs but doesn’t press the issue further.
Instead, he wraps his arm around me, and I all but melt into his side, snuggling and holding him tightly.
He’s my lifeline, the air I breathe. It might make me pathetic to admit it out loud, but I’m nothing without him.
He completes me in a way no other human being could ever, and I’ll forever be grateful to God for sending this man my way.
“What did you discuss during the meeting?”
He stiffens beside me but slowly starts relaxing when I start stroking his back softly.
“The focus is on finding the mole. We find out who it is, we find out where Flint and Woods are the weakest.”
I nod. “That seems reasonable. Any leads?”
Arlo shakes his head. “Not yet, no. I’ll figure out a trap to set. Then, we’ll have to wait for the rat to take the bait.”
“Alright.”
“But that’s not what worries me.”
I look up at him, pausing my movements for a brief moment, then pick it up again. “What is it?”
“Agent Arnault is after us.”
“You have high connections in law enforcement. Can’t you at least deter him?”
“That’s not a permanent solution. He’ll back off for a moment, then pop up again after some time. And until I know who fucking tipped him off — which is definitely the mole, by the way — it will be useless going after him.”
“Has he made a move yet?”
“No, but from what I’ve gathered, he’s been visiting Hudson. He thinks the old man will speak, but there’s no way for my dad to open his mouth. He’d rather shit in his hands and clap.”
That earns a chuckle out of me, and I know it’s true. Hudson is many things, but a traitor or someone with a loose mouth isn’t one of them. He’ll never speak about the business, and he won’t allow himself to even be put in that position.
“But, we’ll figure it out soon.” Arlo kisses the top of my head. “Now, what do you want to eat?”
I purse my lips, thinking about his offer. “How about one of your sandwiches?”
He chuckles. “I’ll go shower and have it ready soon.”
He stands up, not before kissing me. His lips are so addictive, and when he pulls back, I almost whine. He smirks, winks, then picks out some clothes and leaves the bedroom.
I slump into the bed, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. My thoughts wander off to the past couple of months, and somehow, I can’t fucking believe this is what my life has become. Last year, this time around, I was in Long Grove, terrified of my stalker.
Who would’ve thought that my stalker would end up being the most important person in my life?
I was so naive back then. I wanted revenge, yes, but I had no idea what the near future held for me, all the obstacles I’d have to get rid of. And I’m still not nearly done.
My thoughts vanish when my phone buzzes on the nightstand table. Lazily, I roll over and pick it up. It’s a message from an unknown number, and when I open it, I see a video.
With a puzzled expression, I open the video, and what I see shocks me to my very core.
It’s Noelle’s hospital room. There’s a person that’s hidden from the view, but their hand is very visible. It’s gloved with leather, holding a sharp, big knife pressed against Noelle’s throat.
My blood runs cold, and I sit up abruptly, staring at the video in pure shock. Nothing else seems to happen, except the person moving the knife left and right, not quite touching Noelle’s throat. All I can do is stare at the screen, wide-eyed, unable to move.
The video lasts fifteen seconds, and when it finishes, another message pops up.
‘‘Meet me at the abandoned hotel near your little place. Come alone and come now. Or she dies.’’
I don’t think twice before tossing the phone aside and pulling out my coat. Arlo’s still in the shower, the sound of water running filling my ears. I’m fucking terrified something will happen to Noelle, and I have no time to waste.
So, I rush toward Arlo’s coat and take both of the guns I find with me.