Chapter Twenty-Nine
Diana
Pennsylvania. Diana’s childhood home.
“You’re insane,” I whispered in fear as I stared up at my ex.
Lucas ticked his head to the side, clicking his tongue, the tree in the front yard of my childhood home swaying in the breeze behind him. I didn’t know what day it was, but the sun was about to set, and my parents’ quiet neighborhood was already asleep, the people in the houses around us old and uncaring. I was still in my PJs, my hair still in a braid, my feet still bare. I don’t know what happened, but when I woke in the backseat of a moving car, my head in my mother’s lap, I thought I was still sleeping, trapped in some twisted, fucked up dream. When she bent her head and mouthed, “I’m so sorry,” I was certain it wasn’t reality.
In fact, reality didn’t set in until I saw Lucas in the driver’s seat, my father in the passenger.
“When we’re married, you talk to me like that, I get to pop you in the mouth.” His voice was filled with pride, and he looked over to my parents, who were now out of the car, gawking at Lucas with fear in their eyes.
“Get out of the car, Diana,” my ex ordered.
I looked back to him, my lip curling. “I hate you. I hope you know that.”
He was in my face then, my jaw in his harsh grasp, his fingernails pressing into my cheeks, sure to leave a mark. “I have no issues doing everything in my power to make you love me as you once did,” he whispered.
If any other man—any other person—whispered those words to me, I would’ve been okay. I would’ve taken them at face value and ran with it.
But this wasn’t a normal man.
This man abused me for years, sucked the soul out of me, and the only thing in life I had to cling to was the simple pleasure of food. His promise wasn’t a promise. It was a threat filled with nothing but violence, and suddenly, all the healing I’d done, all the strength I’d built, vanished in an instant. Underneath it all, I was just the old me, the foundation of my life.
Weak.
Frail.
Scared.
Nothing.
When I didn’t respond, Lucas growled, dropping my hand from his face to my arm. There would be bruises tomorrow, mixing in with the ones I’d obtained on the mountain. I was ripped from the car then, and as he slammed the car door, he pointed his gun at my parents. “Get the fuck inside,” he barked.
My mother, whom I hadn’t seen in over eight years, couldn’t take her eyes off of me as a whimper left her.
Oh, look, she cared. How lovely.
My father, however, was only looking at Lucas. “Hand me the gun, and then we can go inside,” he said, his voice shaking as he held out his hand. “Son, please.”
I looked up to the tree. After all this time, my dad still have the audacity to call him son. When no one moved, my eyes met my mom’s. “Let’s just go inside. Please.”
My father opened his mouth, but Lucas stepped forward, yanking me with him, putting the end of it to my father’s forehead. I said nothing, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, settling into the disassociation. I didn’t know if I would make it out of this, but I knew Mags would at least try. I was supposed to call him when I got on the road, and now I wasn’t sure I would ever speak to him again. My eyes began to sting, my hatred for the universe building in my chest.
I’d only gotten a weekend with him, a taste of the dream.
I stared at the tanned concrete of my parent’s driveway, remembering the last time I stood here, in a new pair of heels, feeling brave and strong for the first time in my life. I thought I’d broken the cycle then. I thought I’d proved them wrong, but now, I knew that was a lie. There was always something that would drag me kicking and screaming back into the past I’d escaped from.
Cycles had no ending, after all.
Between my father’s borderline narcissism and immense desire for control and my mother’s god complex and unhealed trauma, I was doomed from the start, the daughter who was never good enough, a record of unmet expectations longer than the list of traumas they’d given me.
As I was lost in my thoughts, Lucas tugged me again, pulling me in to a house I never wanted to step into again, the familiar scent of fresh laundry hitting my nose, the faint smell of lemons hanging in the air, the aftermath of my mom’s obsessive cleaning habits. I looked over to the tanned couch, perfectly stationed in front of the large TV my father liked to watch football on and drink in front of while my mother got lost in her own world, using social media to escape the overbearing weight of this family.
My eyes lifted, landing on the family portrait from when I was only a freshman in high school. I studied the false smile on my lips, wondering how in the world no one could see the pain in my eyes. My mother’s smile was real. The only time she ever truly smiled was for a camera, ready to show the world how perfect she was, how happy she was, how she could do no wrong. My father, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling, the set line of his mouth filled with a cold malice, his eyes demanding perfection and instant gratification.
Once we were all inside, Lucas slammed the door, and my father ushered my mother further into the living room.
“Okay, son, we’re in the house. Now let Diana go,” my father ordered, not looking at me.
I snapped then, the cord I’d been holding for so long breaking in two, releasing me from the burden of his approval.
A huffed laugh left my lips, and all three pairs of eyes landed on me. It only made me chuckle harder.
“Diana, please,” my mother huffed.
Tears were in my eyes, the laughter uncontrollable. “He won’t even look at me,” I laughed, lifting my free hand to my father, the man who was supposed to protect me, to vouch for me, to love me without limitations or standards. “Your daughter is being held hostage by her abuser, and instead of looking at me, you keep referring to him as ‘Son!’”
My father, the coward, dropped his eyes to the floor, his throat bobbing.
I ripped my arm out of Lucas’ hold and he moved, trying to grab me again, but I advanced my father. He was tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than Mags, but that didn’t stop me from getting his face. “One day,” I seethed, “because I will get out of this, so help me God, I will. One day, the universe is going to bless me with daughter.”
My father’s eyes snapped up, wide and shocked.
“And my daughter will never know you.” My eyes sliced to my mother. “Either of you. She won’t even know your names. Her light will never touch you, and that, God, that will be my revenge. Knowing she will never have to feel the pain, the anguish you put me through. I’d rather die than let her feel the things I had to when I was a child. I’d rather die than let her cry the same tears I did .”
“Babe, our kids are going to come over here,” Lucas scoffed, aloof and stupid as always.
I turned, my braid flying over my shoulder. “If you think I will ever let you touch me ever again, then all those drinks, all that alcohol, must’ve really did a number on you,” I snapped.
“Diana,” my mother tried.
I backed away from them. “You don’t deserve to know me,” I whispered. “You never wanted to know me. You wanted to control me.”
Mags words from years ago floated to the surface then, echoing softly in my head, the jagged edges of his voice a comfort.
When you were born, they made a mold for you, and you, being the amazing woman you are, refused to fit into it.
“Bitch,” Lucas barked, snapping his fingers and pointing to the spot beside him. “Get over here.”
My eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and just as I was about to open my mouth, I felt heat at my back. Then, my ears filled with jagged edges and promises of happiness. My knees nearly gave out, a breath of relief leaving me.
He came for me.
“What did I say would happen if you called her that again, Lucas?”
My parents’ eyes lifted to the cowboy standing behind me, both of them frozen.
My ex staggered back, raising the gun, his hand trembling with fear as his voice shook with it. “Y-you...”
Mags chuckled darkly.
The front door was kicked in suddenly, a scream coming from my mother’s throat, a large blond man stormed through. His foot went to the back of Lucas’ leg, taking the piece of shit to the ground. The gun was plucked from Lucas’ hand before I could blink, then his hands were cuffed, the blond man’s knee in the middle of his back, pinning my ex to the carpet.
When the man looked up, I saw the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. He looked at Mags.
“Take him,” my cowboy ordered.
The man nodded and looked at me again, his features softening. “Ms. Harper,” he greeted.
“Uh, hi.”
He didn’t respond, yanking Lucas off the floor and then shoving him out the front door.
Mags’ arm was around me then, like a steel trap I never wanted to leave, holding me against his body. I felt his whiskers against the shell of my ear. “You’re safe, Firefly,” he whispered.
I curled my hands around his strong forearm, his skin covered by black fabric. My head turned then, my eyes lifting to find his dark ones staring down at me. “You came for me,” I croaked, my fingers touching his beard.
His voice was low, just for my ears only. “Always will, gorgeous.”
“Who the hell are you?”
My attention snapped back to my parents, my eyes meeting my father’s for the first time. “You don’t deserve to know him,” I quipped.
Mags said nothing, and a second later, Grayson stepped inside, dressed in black thermal, cargo pants, and boots. He jerked his chin to Mags. “Ready when you are.” His eyes met mine. “You alright?”
I nodded. “Hi, Grayson.”
His lips twitched. “Hey.”
Mags moved then, taking my hand to lead me out of the house. He stopped in front of my father, looking down at him, his voice a deadly whisper when he spoke. “Diana’s future daughter will be my daughter.” I held my breath, tears stinging my eyes as the cowboy of my dreams set a hard boundary. “Heard every word she said to you, know all the words you never said to her.”
My father chose this moment to open his mouth. “I—”
“You’ll keep your damn distance,” Mags growled. “That’s all you’ll fuckin’ do. If you try to come into our lives, I’ll end yours.”
My mom looked at me. “This man is—is not—”
“He loves me,” I countered calmly. “He protects me. He sees me.”
Her mouth clamped shut.
“He’s my everything,” I murmured. “And I’m not sorry you won’t get to see all the joy he’s going to give me.”
Mags’ hand squeezed mine, tugging.
I followed his silent command, leaving my past, my parents, and the life they thought I needed behind.
Hours later.
Lucas woke up, his body in agony, his head weighing a thousand pounds.
It took a while, but when his eyes finally opened, he found darkness. When he tried to move his hands, he looked up, finding them bound and hanging from a large hook chained to the ceiling. A growl of frustration left him as he tried to break free, his body jerking back and forth.
“Won’t work.”
Fear slithered down Lucas’ spine as his head snapped to the shadows in front of him, the familiar ember of a cigarette in the corner. The silence around them was deafening, and a second later, the end of the cigarette glowed brighter as the man took a drag. It was so quiet, Lucas could hear the soft crackling of the tobacco. Sweat trickled down his brow as his chest began to heave.
“Where is Diana?” Lucas demanded to know, his voice unsteady.
No answer, just another drag.
The smell of smoke filled his nose then, and he looked around. On the right, there was a wall of tools, rakes, shovels, a variety of horseshoes on the wall, plus saddle stool.
“Where the fuck am I?”
Panic clogged Lucas’ throat then, the lump almost as painful as the way his body stretched. “L-let me go, man,” he stammered. “You won. I’ll leave her alone, alright? Just let me go.”
Silence.
Lucas held his breath, his eyes narrowing as the cigarette bud was tossed onto the grown, a shadow covering it, putting it out.
“P-please,” he rasped, his voice cracking.
After a few minutes of silence, a chilling voice floated out from the shadows, and Lucas knew then—-he knew he was in hell.
“You left bruises on my woman.”
The shadow in the corner moved, getting closer and closer. Lucas’ heart was about to burst from his chest, fear coursing through his veins, hotter than boiling water. He was burning in the hell he’d made for himself. There was a single sliver of moonlight in the middle of the room, coming from the crack in the roof, and when Lucas saw the outline of a black cowboy hat, his stomach dropped to the floor, his bladder loosening. The scent of fearful piss surrounded him now as the cowboy’s head slowly tilted to the side.
“P-please,” Lucas blubbered.
The cowboy said nothing, walking over to the wall of tools. He grabbed something off the wall, but Lucas had no idea what it was.
“L-listen, I’m sorry.”
“You’re not,” the cowboy rumbled, “but you will be soon enough.”
Panic was in control now. “You can’t! You can’t do anything to me! It’s against the law.”
A slow, dark chuckle came then. “Cowboys are above the law here, boy.”
Lucas didn’t have a chance to respond before a sharp pain hit his side, stabbing him. He cried out, his body flailing, his own blood, lukewarm, soaking his shirt. The pain consumed him, and when his voice was raw from his screams, his body bleeding and bruised, his head bent, he whispered, “Mercy.”
The last thing he heard before everything went black were the cold words of a lawless cowboy.
“Mercy doesn’t exist on Hallow Ranch.”