CHAPTER THIRTY
BLAIR
T he silence in the shed is deafening. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, and my wrists burn from the tight restraints. I try to stay calm, to control my breathing, but my heart betrays me, thudding hard in my chest, a constant reminder of how much danger I’m in.
Blake is still gone, but every second without him in the room feels like a fleeting chance, a small window where I could do something—anything—to get free.
But the rope around my wrists keeps me tethered to the chair, and every time I try to move, my body aches like I’ve been hit by a train.
I squint, trying to make out my surroundings, but everything is too dark, or my eyes are still not adjusted. I don’t know.
Every part of me screams to get out of here, to fight, to run, but the restraints digging into my skin remind me that I can’t.
I can’t move, and the silence is growing louder, more suffocating with each passing second.
The only sound is the faint creak of wood in the distance and the buzz of the single bulb overhead.
And then, a noise. My pulse quickens.
He’s back.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the inevitable coming, but then I hear it.
“Blair.” His voice is so low I almost miss it.
Freezing, I open my eyes, then turn toward the door slowly. My body starts to jerk on instinct, and my eyes blur with even more tears.
“Shay.”
My breath suddenly stops as he steps toward me. This isn’t the normal Shay I’m used to. His footsteps are quicker, and I can practically see the tension wrapped around him. He isn’t just angry—he’s fucking pissed.
When his hands touch me, scanning my entire body like he’s assessing me, my breathing starts again.
His fingers glide over the rope around my wrists lightly, working the knots and trying to free me.
The familiar comfort of his touch makes my heart flip, and the slightest hint of relief washes over me.
For a moment, I let myself believe everything is going to be fine, but then, just as quickly as it came, it’s gone.
The door creaks again, and the sound is louder this time. It swings open with force, and I hear Blake’s voice.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Everything stops. My heart, Shay’s hands, the fucking world spinning. His eyes are locked on Shay, who turns slowly, like he’s trying not to make any sudden movements to scare the beast in front of us. But it doesn’t last long.
Without a word, Shay rushes forward, his body colliding with Blake’s in a sickening bang. Blake’s initial shock is brief, but he quickly retaliates and swings out his fist hard. Shay doesn’t move to try and block it. Instead, I notice the tick in his jaw as he grinds his teeth through the pain.
Suddenly, they’re nothing but a blur, and the room fills with the chaotic sounds of a fight—the crack of punches, the grunts, and the thud of bodies slamming into the walls.
I scream out. “Shay!”
But he doesn’t hear me.
I strain against the restraints still holding me, the rope burning into my skin with the friction of every pull or tug. I can’t just sit here. I can’t just watch.
“Shay!” I scream again, but my voice cracks and fades into an echo.
Shay lands another punch, but Blake manages to shove him backward, causing Shay to stumble into the corner. Blake advances, swinging out again, and connects his fist to Shay’s stomach. Shay doubles over, and I can see the determination on Blake’s face.
He’s enjoying this. He’s savoring every moment of this fight.
I hate him. I hate what he’s doing to Shay. And I hate that I can’t help.
My wrists throb painfully as I tug at the ropes again.
Finally, they give way, and one of my hands slips free.
My fingers feel numb, but I don’t stop. I yank on the second one, using my fingers from my free hand to tug at the knot at the same time, and finally get it loose enough to slip it out too.
The moment the ropes fall away, I scramble to my feet.
My legs feel weak, and the world tilts, but I don’t hesitate.
I spot a heavy piece of wood near the wall by the door, and without thinking, I grab it.
My hands shake violently around it, but I clutch the makeshift weapon with both hands and let my feet move me toward the fight.
As I get closer, I raise the wood above my head. I swing it with every ounce of strength I have, and a crack sounds out in the room. It connects with Blake’s back and is enough to stun him. His hands leave Shay, and he staggers back, letting Shay move out of the corner.
Shay gasps for air as he takes a shaky step forward to follow Blake as he moves. His fists move up again, and his body surges forward. Before I can even register what happens, he lands a brutal punch to Blake’s jaw. The force sends Blake crashing to the floor.
My heart hammers in my chest as I stare at Shay. He’s bleeding, his lip split, shirt torn. But his eyes… They’re focused and determined. He’s not done.
Blake groans on the ground, rolling to his side to try and stand or gain some sort of composure, but Shay is on him before he can. Shay straddles Blake, clasping one of his shoulders to lay him flat on his back, then unleashes every ounce of rage inside him.
His fists fly in quick succession, all directed to his face. I can’t move—can’t breathe. I’m completely enthralled by his rage and can’t seem to bring myself to stop it. Blow after blow, Blake’s face becomes more and more unrecognizable, but Shay doesn’t stop.
Blood splatters across the room every time he rears it back, and eventually, Blake’s body stops twitching beneath him.
Something about seeing him lying there—a literal bloody fucking mess—snaps me out of the haze.
I step forward cautiously, almost scared to get too close, and grip Shay by his shoulder.
“Shay. It’s done,” I whisper, but he still doesn’t stop.
His chest is heaving, and his movements are coming slower and slower.
“Shay,” I try again, reaching further down to try and grip his forearm.
My palm slides across his skin with the blood, but something about the full contact has him halting. Slowly, his face turns to mine. Blood paints his face and trickles down his cheeks with the tears I’m sure he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.
“He hurt you.” His statement is simple and gruff.
Nodding, I squat down beside him and cup his face in my hands. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
He nods slowly, never breaking his eyes from mine, but he stays silent.
Police sirens wail in the distance, and eventually, flashing lights burst through the cracks of the wooden walls. I move my hands to Shay’s shoulders and urge him to stand with me, then walk him to the door.
Opening it, I reach down and lace my fingers through his. “We’re okay, okay?”
“We’re okay,” he mimics.
Stepping outside, I’m blinded by the spotlights of the cop cars staggered in front of the shed. I raise my free arm to shield my eyes, but Shay does nothing. He just stands beside me, holding my hand.
“Let us see your hands!” they scream through the speakers of their cars as they screech to a halt.
Like I’m told, I drop Shay’s hand and raise mine. “He’s inside! He took me!” I yell out, but it isn’t loud enough to be heard over the chatter on their radios.
Within seconds of raising my hands, they rush us. One officer wraps me in a blanket and ushers me to the side while two others go to Shay. He isn’t even putting up a fight, but they slam him to the ground and jerk his arms behind his back.
“He saved me! He wasn’t the one who took me!” I scream, trying to break away from the cop at my side, but it’s pointless.
He pulls me forward as my eyes stay locked on Shay. When we make it to the front of one of the cars, Henry and my mom sprint up. Immediately, my mom’s hands are on me, running over my face and along my arms.
“Oh my God. You’re okay. You’re okay!” she cries, but I can’t seem to care.
I glance at Henry, then follow his eyes as they travel to the scene behind me—to Shay.
“Henry, please!” I beg, but he’s already moving before the last word leaves my lips.
He jogs up to where they’re getting Shay on his feet. Just like my mom, Henry’s face contorts into sadness as he looks down at his son.
“Shay, you speak to no one, you hear me? Don’t say a word. I am going to fix this. I promise I am going to fix this,” he blurts out as the cops begin to walk Shay to one of the waiting cars.
Even though I still feel I don’t know Henry all that well, something in his voice makes me believe him. Maybe it’s the look on his face, or maybe it was the desperation in my plea, but whatever it was, I know he will fix this. He has to.
When the cop beside me finally walks away, I throw the blanket from my shoulders and run to where they’re loading Shay into the car. Consequences or charges be damned, I can’t let him leave me—not like this.
Shoving through the shoulders of the cops, I lean down and press my lips to his hard. I grab his face in my hands and squeeze it, hoping that by some stroke of fate, if I hold him tight enough, he won’t go. But I know that’s not the case.
He kisses me back, pulling against the handcuffs behind him to try and touch me, but it’s pointless. We’re so close but still separated.
“I—” I start, biting out words around his mouth, but he beats me to the punch.
“I love you, Blair. I fucking love you.”
I nod and shudder with a new wave of tears taking over my body. “I love you too.”
I’m yanked back, and the door is promptly closed. Just like that, Shay is gone, but this time, I have no idea when I’ll see him again.