42. Juliet
42
JULIET
Present day…
T he last time I woke up from a hangover this bad, I’d scrubbed myself raw in the shower of my hotel room for three hours. Unfortunately, as I crack open my eyelids, there’s no expensive bed or deceptively clean hotel room and definitely no shower in sight. Instead, all I see is yards and yards of train cars.
Red train cars with gold emblems that have faded with the passage of time. Black and gray train cars with broken out windows and rusted off doors. Lots of graffiti spray-painted across every surface of a few of them. The ground beneath my ass is cold and hard, and my head throbs as I struggle to sit up. Something hard prods at my backside—a train rail.
Immediately, I know where I am. Trail’s End. Far enough outside of Silverwood to be somewhat private and yet close enough that I can’t have been out for very long.
My hands are still handcuffed in front of me and my legs are bound in not rope like I’d originally thought, but a rough sort of twine. Is that still rope? I don’t know, but my foggy mind is struggling to take in as many details as I can.
I only vaguely recognize where we are because I’ve been here once before. Four years ago to be precise, right before I’d entered high school, Avery and I as well as a few of the girls that we’d been friends with at the time had snuck out here to drink and smoke. It was so long ago that I’d almost forgotten. It feels like a different life.
It was a different life.
“—do with her now? You said—” The sound of an angry male voice has me twisting my head and peering around the wall I’m propped up against. Except, it’s not a wall, but a train car turned on its side. Glass fragments scatter the ground at my feet and it’s a miracle that I haven’t managed to cut myself yet.
“We were just supposed to bring her here,” the man continues and the longer I listen, the more I recognize it. It sounds like the driver from the van and he is not happy.
That makes two of us.
The glass surrounding me and the broken window of the train car gives me a decent idea. I start to scoot to the side, moving away from the sound of the man on the phone, and use the movement of my arms to search for a large enough piece that might be able to cut through the twine binding my legs together. At least, there’s one good thing about waking up with this pounding headache more than once—I can handle it long enough to figure out how to get myself out of this mess.
My jeans and hoodie are both thankfully still on, and I try not to think about anything that might have changed that while I was unconscious as I search for the right shard. Unable to find anything large enough or sharp enough, I end up twisting my body around and lifting my bound fists towards the window. I wait a beat, pausing and listening as the man starts to yell at whoever is on the other line. The second he begins to shout obscenities, I take that as my cue.
Using the man’s own voice as cover, I punch the side of the still remaining corner of the window at the edges. Despite being out here for most likely decades—years of sitting in the hot summer sun or under a cold freezing rain—the glass isn’t all that easy to break. It takes several tries and pauses as I have to wait for the man to start talking before I start working.
Sweat clings to my brow and slides down my spine beneath my clothes. Finally, the corner piece of glass comes loose. I’m so excited by the freedom it can bring that I cut myself as I yank it out of place. Hissing at the sharp sting, I try not to linger on thoughts of how many germs could be crawling around on the surface of it as I start to saw at my bindings with one of the sharper edges.
The guys that tied me up weren’t idiots, though. They hadn’t just wrapped one long stretch of it around and around my legs. No, they’d wrapped multiple fucking bands and each one needs to be cut.
My back cramps as I bend forward and saw and saw and saw. One line drops away. Then another and another. After what feels like an eternity working at the twine, the last one at my ankles breaks under the sharp glass shard and feeling rushes back to my legs. My hands, though? I glance over the handcuffs, using the moonlight above to examine them. Without the key, I’m not entirely sure I can do anything about these just yet.
“Fine.” I stiffen as the driver’s voice grows nearer. “We’ll finish the job, but you owe us another twenty grand. If you can’t pay, well, that’s not our fucking problem, is it?”
I roll to my knees and using my still bound hands, press down onto the ground to leverage upward. I stand with a crouch, my legs shaking as I hurry down the line of the train car as I hear the driver approaching. My sneakers are quiet on the hard dirt as I slip to the opposite side and take a glance around.
There’s no sign of the others that had attacked me, but I’m not so naive as to think that they aren’t here somewhere. All around us is little more than a train car graveyard—Trail Head Train Tracks. Dark, smoky air clings to the night sky and blankets the entire area. Surrounding it is little more than thin, spindly trees several miles deep.
What I remember of this place is one thing—there’s really only one way in and one way out for vehicles. If I can get to their van then maybe I can take off and leave them stranded.
My heart thrums an unsteady, frantic beat in my throat. I sway on my feet and sag into another train car’s side. Just like before when they’d held me down and stuck me with a needle, the world grows fuzzy at the edges. I’m half afraid that I might pass out again.
Thankfully, though, the fuzziness fades after a few deep breaths. Then, I hear more masculine cursing.
“God damn it, V!” The driver yells. “Kilo! Get your asses back here. She’s gone!”
Staying low, I stick close to the train cars, hoping my dark clothes will help me blend in better. It’s hard with my hands tied together, but I manage to pull my hood up over my blue hair as the sound of responding footsteps approaches where I’d previously woken up.
I pause, thinking. If I want to steal their ride, then I’ll need the keys. Things might be different if I’d had one of the guys with me—they could hotwire a car no doubt—but, no! I shake my head. The guys aren’t here. I am. They’re not coming to save me because they have no fucking clue I’m gone. No one does.
Even if they did…
“What the fuck did you do?” I jolt at the sharp bark that no longer sounds like the driver.
“Me?” the driver responds. “I didn’t do shit! I was on the phone with?—”
“You were supposed to watch her,” the other man says.
“She can’t have gone far.” The third man finally speaks up. I close my eyes and try to place what names I know for each voice. I think the second man is V and the third is Kilo.
A shudder works through me, cold and something else, something I really don’t have time for right now. Fear.
Maybe it would be best to leave them searching for me. Maybe I should try my chances with the woods. I begin to back towards the tree line, keeping my eyes scanning the train car graveyard in front of me. I strain my ears to hear more of their conversation, all the while edging farther and farther from them.
Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Each movement I take is precise and planned. On the twentieth step back, though, my sight begins to dim again. I stumble and nearly go down.
Everything becomes impossibly loud—as if it was all muted before and someone has popped the cork to release my senses and it’s overwhelming. My head spins and my stomach clenches. My throat seizes and I turn, silently pleading with my own body not to retch. Not here. I won’t be able to control the sound, and they’ll know where I am.
“What did the client want?” That voice, it sounds like Kilo’s.
The driver responds with a deadpan tone. “They want the girl dead. We’ve added twenty grand to the pot if they want that done.”
A low whistle slips into the air as the words circle my head like some sort of fucked up cartoon. They want the girl dead. They want the girl dead. They want the girl dead.
I gag and then slap a hand over my mouth.
No, no, no.
I take another step back.
“So, we kill her then?” Kilo’s tone is merely curious. There’s no reaction to the possibility of murdering a teenage girl they have no connection with.
I’m almost there. The trees growing closer with each movement I make. Unfortunately, to get all the way there, I need to leave behind the last train car I’m using for cover and sprint the last fifteen or so feet that have nothing beyond. No way to hide. No cover. Just empty open plain and discarded tracks and metal barrels where the people who come out here to fuck around and party—the loners and stoners of Silverwood—likely hang and burn shit for warmth.
Acid sits on the back of my tongue. I’m dizzy and sore, but I’m also determined. I did not bear the last six months in Silverwood as the town pariah and punching bag to let some knock off killers strike me down here. Oh no. I’m going to find out who wants me dead and then I’m going to pay them a little visit.
I am not a victim. I will never be a victim again.
A hand reaches out of the darkness and latches on to my wrist, and I nearly scream at the sudden sensation. Whirling towards the figure, I bring my foot back and then stop at the face that peers down at me from a dark hood pulled up.
Though his face is half shrouded in shadow, I know this isn’t one of my kidnappers. At least, not the ones that are planning to kill me. All at once, I sag against him and Lex catches me easily, pulling me into his chest as he wraps his arms around me.
He came . I don’t know how they found out I was gone or how he knew where to come, but he came. No one has come before.
Another familiar figure appears on his other side as I pull away, and my eyes widen at the dark glint in Gio’s eyes. He peers at me, eyes scanning down my body as he presses one finger to his lips. When Lex lifts my wrist and takes in the handcuffs, his expression blackens. Violent simmering rage has always been beneath his surface, that much I know, but right here and now—the storm of fury in his gunmetal gray eyes makes me want to move away from him lest he unleash it all on me.
“Be very quiet,” Gio’s words are barely a whisper on the wind as he curves a hand around my back and pushes me closer into Lex’s hold. “We’ll take care of this. How many are there?”
“Three.” The answer escapes on a breath of air so quiet that I almost don’t hear myself. Gio hears me, though, and nods to show me his understanding.
Then, he and Lex exchange an enigmatic look that speaks volumes and still, says nothing at all. It’s as if they’re giving each other directions without a damn word—or perhaps they have their own language of facial twitches and micro expressions that I can’t decipher.
Whatever the case, Lex draws me backwards towards the tree line and leaves Gio behind. “Wait!” I hiss out the word. “What about?—”
Gio doesn’t look back and instead disappears around one of the train cars just as one of my kidnappers appears from the other end. I suck back a breath and don’t fight it when Lex lifts me off my feet and hauls me into the trees, crossing the fifteen-foot gap in the span of a few seconds.
Adrenaline spills into my veins as Lex silently checks out my handcuffs. The shadows are stronger, deeper in the woods, but I do feel safer now. “How did you find me?” I ask.
Lex glances up at me before quietly reaching around and patting my butt and then down. “Phone,” he grunts, frowning when he doesn’t find it.
I’d completely forgotten about my phone, but since it’s no longer with me, I’m guessing my kidnappers had taken it while I’d been unconscious. Lex makes a quiet noise and then taps me on the lips to signal that I should stay quiet. I nod my head and turn towards the clearing of train cars, listening for Gio’s discovery.
It never comes. Not minutes later when Lex somehow manages to figure out a way to unlock the cuffs with a Swiss Army Knife of all fucking things. Then his fingers trail to the red on my palm.
“Did they do this?” The question is near silent in its intensity.
I shake my head. “No, I?—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “I’m going to fucking kill them.”
I blink. “What?”
Despite his harsh words, Lex is gentle as he nudges me back against a tree. He peers around it and me as if he’s trying to figure out the best plan of attack, and my stupid girl brain can’t stop fucking thinking.
He actually came for me. He and Gio. Then it reminds me…
“Where’s Nolan?” I ask. I shouldn’t be hurt that he’s not here. It doesn’t matter to me, but it’s odd that it’s just the two of them and not their leader.
“On his way,” Lex whispers.
There’s a shout in the distance and I turn, spinning, but Lex grabs me and keeps me pressed between him and the tree. “Don’t,” he bites the word out. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I squirm against him. If the men out there were planning to up their game by killing me on behalf of whoever their boss is, I have no doubt that they would have no issues killing Gio too.
“Lex, they?—”
His hand claps over my lips a split second before a body comes streaking through the fifteen-foot opening between the last train car and the tree line that we peer through. It’s not Gio, but one of the masked men—except he’s no longer masked. His face is tan and there are wrinkles curved around either side of his mouth and eyes. He looks somewhere between his early to mid-forties as he sprints towards the sound.
I realize that the shout hadn’t sounded like Gio. What is he doing? As soon as the man is gone, Lex relaxes his hand and takes it away from my mouth.
“If I ask you to stay here, will you?”
No, but I know if I say it he won’t go after Gio, won’t try to help him if he needs it. Still, I can’t lie either. So I remain silent, turning my head to stare up at him.
Lex groans. “You’re killing me, baby. Please, I need you to stay here.”
Stay here and let them get fucked up? No way in hell. “What if they have guns?” I hiss.
“So do we.” I blink at his statement.
“You do?”
“Yes, does that satisfy you? Will you stay here now that you know we’re more than capable of taking care of this?”
I frown. “Are you going to kill them?”
He tilts his head and a strand of inky black hair falls over his forehead. For the first time, I don’t resist the urge to reach up and push it back. Lex goes still, eyes locked on me.
“Would it bother you if we did?” he asks.
It should. “I killed someone,” I remind him instead.
“In self defense,” he points out.
“So is this.”
He breathes out and I breathe in. I don’t know who is controlling our two movements, but it feels as if all the weeks, the months of fighting have led up to this point. The back and forth, the tension, the anger, the pain, the sex, the lies, the secrets. All of it was to hide the raw connection that ties the two of us together.
Lex bends his head, pressing his forehead to my temple as he whispers, “I would walk through fire for you, Juliet. Killing … is nothing. I’ve wanted to kill every man that’s ever touched you since the day I met you.”
“Why haven’t you?” The question comes before I realize that it’s in my head.
Lex continues to nuzzle against me. “Because I thought you wouldn’t like me if I went around killing people,” he answers. “Unless that’s changed… I can?—”
“I don’t want you to go around killing people.” Not that I’ll mind him killing my kidnappers, but random assholes who grab my arm or hit on me on the street? I’d rather not deal with those headaches, and I find that I don’t really enjoy the idea of Lex locked up somewhere behind bars. It makes me think of my dad and how he, too, has abandoned me—though maybe he didn’t mean to.
Lex’s breath is warm against the skin of my temple and then my ear, making me shiver. “I want you to be mine, Juliet,” he whispers. “I want to claim you, own you, let you own me too.”
My head spins with the revelation of his words. What he’s asking for—it’s a lot, and I’m not sure now is the right time for this discussion.
His lips brush my skin. “If you don’t want to watch, then I suggest you stay here and close your eyes and plug your ears, baby,” he says. “Because I promise you, before we leave this place tonight—I will kill every single man that tried to take you from me. None of them will survive me.”
My lashes flutter as his lips descend, brushing first one eyelid and then the other. Then he presses one to my cheek and breathes me in as if he wants to inhale the very essence of my soul.
None of that is disturbing. Not his words nor his actions have me wanting to run for the hills.
Instead, it’s the absence of fear that makes me want to bolt.
Isn’t this what most women want? A man who would kill for them? Burn the world for them? Set themselves on fire to keep you warm?
That’s what Lex is offering me. His last words as he shifts away from me seal themselves to the inside of my mind, branding themselves there.
None of them will survive me.
And I think … it's the first time that he’s been fully honest with me since I saw him standing behind Nolan outside of Silverwood Public all those months ago.
My kidnappers will not survive the man standing in front of me, and I don’t think I will either.