Chapter 21 #2
"What are you feeling for?" Stubble-face grinned. "Pepper spray? You pull that out, I'll shove it down your throat!"
"Come on, come on!" I begged myself.
The third time, the screen finally lit up. I didn't look, just blindly hit the recent calls button and dialed the first number.
Then someone kicked me hard in the back.
I slammed face-first onto the pavement. My knees hit the concrete, pain blacking out my vision. The phone flew from my hand, skidding away.
"Ella?" Lucas's voice came through the speaker.
I screamed, "I'm in the alley near my apartment! Help me!"
A foot stomped on the phone. The screen shattered with a crisp sound. Then silence.
"Everyone around here knows us," Beer Bottle Man crushed the phone, eyes flashing viciously. "Anyone who tries to save you is asking to die."
Cap Guy bent down and blew a lungful of smoke in my face. I smelled an intense, choking chemical odor mixed with tobacco and alcohol that turned my stomach.
"You be good," he said, voice laced with nauseating amusement. "We'll make you feel real nice."
I turned to crawl away. But the other two had already blocked my path.
I was trapped in the middle.
My breathing became rapid. Heart pounding in my chest so fast it might explode. My legs shook, my knees throbbed with piercing pain.
I wasn't sure if Lucas had heard me. Even if he had, could he get here in time?
He'd told me his hotel wasn't far from where I lived. But this neighborhood was for ordinary people—full of run-down apartment buildings and cheap convenience stores. No five-star hotels here. The nearest upscale hotel was downtown, at least a twenty-minute drive.
He'd never make it.
Despair washed over me like ice water.
"I have money," my voice shook. "It's in my phone, or I can go to the bank. Please, let me go."
"Oh, we'll take the money," Stubble-face laughed, showing yellow teeth. "But we want you too."
"Such an innocent beauty," Cap Guy roared with laughter. "Thinks we're giving her a choice."
The others laughed too. That laughter echoed in the alley, mixing with the stench of rotting garbage and urine, making me shake all over.
Stubble-face grabbed my hair.
"Look at this face," he roughly yanked my face around. His fingers were like iron clamps, twisting my jaw. My cervical vertebrae made a cracking sound, pain making me want to scream. But I clenched my teeth, not wanting them to see me cry.
"Walking around with a face like this," he said, breath reeking of alcohol, making me nauseous, "you're just asking for men to fuck you, right?"
Cap Guy grabbed my arms from behind, dragging me toward the wall. My back slammed into the rough brick, pain blacking out my vision.
"Don't fucking move," he said in my ear. "Or I'll hurt you."
His fingers were rough, nails full of grime, digging into my skin.
"She asked for it," Beer Bottle Man laughed lewdly and reached for my coat. I twisted and bit down hard on the edge of his palm. I bit with all my strength, tasting blood.
"Fuck!" He cursed and slapped me hard.
My head hit the wall, ears ringing. But I didn't stop. I used every ounce of strength I had—kicking with my feet, driving with my knees. Everything in front of me was blood-red, whether from my forehead bleeding or tears blurring my vision.
I was pregnant. My baby was still in my belly. I couldn't let them touch me.
"Is she fucking crazy?" Stubble-face said, surprised. "Doesn't she value her life?"
My fingertips touched something wet and soft. I hooked inward.
"Ahhhhh!" The man screamed desperately. "My eye! My eye!"
He let go of me, covering his face and staggering back. Blood poured between his fingers.
Then the bottle smashed into my back.
The sound of exploding glass burst in my ears. I fell to the ground, face pressed against the freezing concrete. Glass shards embedded in my palms, piercing my skin like countless needles.
Pain. Piercing pain.
I bent over, nearly vomiting. The pain drained almost all my strength. I could barely get up. My hand groped the ground, finding more glass fragments. Blood and alcohol mixed together, sticky on my hand.
"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Stubble-face roared. "Get her together!"
My fingers closed around the biggest piece of glass. Its sharp edge cut into my palm, but I didn't care. I struggled up and pressed that shard against my own throat.
"Don't come any closer!" I shouted.
They stopped.
Cap Guy spat on the ground. "Fuck, I don't believe you'd actually kill yourself."
"Try me," my voice shook, but my hand was steady. The glass point pierced my skin. I felt warm liquid trickle down my neck.
I'd rather die here. I'd rather they beat me to death. Than let them touch me.
I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look. I didn't want to remember these faces. Just as my wrist was about to press harder, I heard someone shouting my name.
"Ella!"
That voice split through the darkness. I snapped my eyes open.
Urgent, heavy footsteps pounded the ground through the night, getting closer. Like thunder. Like a heartbeat.
It was Lucas.
A tall figure appeared at the end of the alley. He looked like he'd crawled out of hell. His suit jacket was gone, shirt buttons ripped open, exposing his heaving chest. His hair was wild, sweat on his forehead glistening under the dim streetlight.
But the most terrifying thing was his eyes.
Those eyes held something I'd never seen before. Something primitive, violent, dangerous—like a cornered beast.
"Let her go," his voice was low, breath ragged. Every word squeezed from deep in his throat with deadly calm. That force froze the air.
The men turned to look at him. For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Cap Guy laughed. "This ain't your business, man."
Lucas didn't answer. He just took another step forward.
Moonlight fell on his face. I saw the tight line of his jaw, that danger ready to explode. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.
"I said," he repeated, voice even lower, like grinding teeth, "let her go."
The hands holding me released.
"What, buddy, playing hero, or you want her too?"
Cap Guy looked around. All three laughed and walked toward Lucas in a friendly manner. "Alright, alright, buddy, finders share. We'll let you go first."
Lucas's eyes narrowed.
"You're all fucking dead," he said.
Then he charged.
I'd never seen Lucas fight like this. His movements were fluid and precise, every punch landing on vital points. This wasn't a street brawl. This was trained. Like boxing.
He punched Cap Guy in the temple. The man dropped like a sack. Stubble-face stabbed at him with a knife. He grabbed the man's wrist and twisted hard. Bone cracked. The knife clattered to the ground.
But then Beer Bottle Man attacked from behind.
The knife slashed Lucas's arm. I saw blood seep out, staining his white shirt red.
"Lucas!" I screamed.
He spun and kicked Beer Bottle Man's knee. The man collapsed. But Cap Guy, still conscious, lunged again, thick arms locking around Lucas's neck.
"Ella," Lucas turned to me, eyes blazing, voice hysterical, "run!"
I realized I was a liability. Crying, I turned and ran from the alley. The scene bounced in front of me, tears blurring my vision. I rushed toward the street and saw a convenience store.
"Call the police!" I burst in shouting, sobbing uncontrollably. "Quick, call the police! Someone's getting killed in the alley!"
The clerk froze but quickly reacted and grabbed the phone.
I ran back out. I couldn't leave Lucas. I couldn't. But when I got back to the alley, those men had fled. Only Lucas remained, lying on the ground.
He was covered in blood, motionless, filthy with mud, face bruised and swollen. His shirt was torn, exposing bruises and scratches on his chest. Blood flowed from the wound on his arm, forming a small pool on the ground.
The light was too dim. The alley only had that flickering streetlamp, its yellow glow not reaching where he lay. I couldn't tell if his chest was rising.
Was Lucas dead?
No!!
My legs gave out, and I collapsed. Crying, I crawled toward him. My knees hit broken glass, shards embedding in my skin, blood flowing. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
"Lucas," I crawled to him, knelt down, and cupped his face in my hands. His skin was cold. "Don't die, please, I'm begging you..."
"Ella," he weakly opened his eyes and even smiled at me. "If I die, can you not divorce me?"
That smile was weak, but real. He was alive!
Relief flooded through me, making me cry harder.
"Lucas, you asshole!"
Lucas laughed too. But as he laughed, more blood poured from the corner of his mouth. I immediately realized he was badly hurt.
"You're bleeding," my hands shook. I wanted to help but had no idea where to start. His shirt was so dirty, covered in blood and filth and alcohol—I couldn't even tell where the wounds were. "Don't move, you'll be okay, do you have a phone, quick, give me—"
"Just surface wounds," he gasped, face pale as paper, lips tinged with the gray-purple of blood loss.
He raised his hand and gently wiped tears from my cheek. His fingers were cold, stained with blood, leaving dark red marks on my face.
Sirens wailed, getting closer.
I pressed on the wound on his arm. Warm, sticky blood covered my hand, but I didn't dare let go. I pressed while crying, tears streaming down, dripping on his face.
"Ella," he suddenly spoke, voice faint. "Can you forgive me now?"
I froze. "What?"
"Forgive me," he repeated. "For everything I did."
"What—" I cried harder. "Really, now?"
"But," he swallowed with difficulty, tears glistening in his eyes, "I just need to know."
I looked at him. This man who'd nearly died saving me, this man covered in blood, lying in a filthy alley, was still worried about whether I'd forgive him.
In that instant, I realized Lucas might actually love me.
That thought split my brain open. I could divorce him, I could hate him, I could refuse him, but I couldn't accept him dying.
"I forgive you," I heard myself say, voice shaking. "Dammit, Lucas, hang on, you'll be okay!"
The alley entrance suddenly lit up with alternating red and blue police lights, followed by a rush of urgent footsteps.
"Over here!" I screamed. "Someone help!"
Police ran over. Someone asked questions, someone checked Lucas's wounds, and someone draped a blanket over me. But I couldn't hear anything. I could only stare at Lucas, at his pale face and the blood at the corner of his mouth.
The ambulance arrived. Paramedics lifted Lucas onto a stretcher.
His hand still gripped mine tightly.
"Stay with me," his gray-blue eyes rolled with pleading. "I don't want to be away from you for even a minute."
Tears crashed down. I nodded hard and squeezed back that cold, blood-covered hand.
Because this time, I couldn't refuse.