CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT #2
“And the second?” I question.
“To collect you, so that when I finally let them bury you, they will feel the years of torture I’m about to inflict on you.
I may not have gotten to the wife and child, but my spies assure me, you’re the one they don’t cover when shit hits the fan.
Yet you are their last remaining relative, so they do care.
You do mean something. Unless the old man survived.
Either way, I want them to suffer every single day I have you.
I want them losing their minds, picturing all the things I will do to you.
What my men will do to you. And trust me, nothing they conjure up will be close to what we will put you through.
I may even rent you out and start a new business. ”
My eyes widen at his words. Not just because I’m scared or angry, but because I am covered.
My kids did make sure I was covered. I’ve been covered for weeks.
Both Hunter and Bear were sleeping when Milly and I went outside.
I’m too afraid to ask about the dogs. My eyes burn with unshed tears because I know without a doubt our Hunter would have gone for these men.
He’s protective. Which means they did something to him.
To them. Instead of letting that show, I say, “Where do you think my children get their resilience and strength from, Mr Black? Me. I don’t need them to cover me.
The only way I will be leaving this house is if I’m dead, and I can promise you, that will not be today. ”
I spin so quickly to reach for the knife, it’s not until I turn back that both men Black brought with him move.
I throw the knife in his direction, but the sinister man beside him whacks it out of the way.
It scatters along the kitchen floor, dropping near Andrew’s feet.
I run to the back door, moving through the pantry, when I’m pulled back by my hair.
I reach for the cans on the shelf, hitting the man who doesn’t hold back his strength, in his stomach.
My face vibrates when it’s smacked against one of the cupboards suddenly.
I feel the flesh beneath my eye split, and then warmth slipping down my cheek.
I twist, kicking the one in the nuts before biting the man who still has a punishing grip on my hair.
He moans, pressing into me, and I gag, bile rising up my throat.
Still, I fight, ignoring the pain in my arm as he pulls it back.
I scream with all my might as he drags me into the kitchen, the heels of my feet scraping along the floor.
He swings me up like I weigh nothing when we near the centre.
Breath catches in my throat whilst airborne, but bursts out of me painfully when my back slams down on the table.
The same table I’ve eaten countless meals at with my husband, our children and family.
I grunt, kicking him in the stomach before I have time to assess what hurts.He doesn’t even flinch at any of my attempts to hurt him.
My shirt gets torn as he grabs onto it, tugging me up until I’m in a sitting position.
My head jerks back, my teeth clashing together when his fist smacks into my flesh at my temple.
My vision blurs at the same time the room begins to spin, and I don’t know which of the two I hate more.
“I think you should show Mrs Hayes what she is in for,” Andrew declares, his voice raspy like this is a joy to them. “I’ll record it, don’t worry. Give them something to watch later.”
Terror stabs into my heart, and I can do nothing but feel the blind terror running through me.
My children will blame themselves. No matter what they see, they will blame themselves.
This will kill something inside of them.
This will destroy them. My words about us being strong wasn’t a lie, but unlike the man orchestrating all of this, my children have a soul.
The grip on my T-shirt is let go, and I flop back down onto the table with dread, still disorientated.
Until I feel hands at the button on my jeans, and it’s like the band inside of my head that has paralysed me in fear, snaps.
I scream, kicking out and reaching for the fruit bowl from the centre of the table.
I smash it across his face, the tiny glass fragments falling all over me and in his hair.
None of my movements are choreographed. They are messy, but I’m not here to put on a show. I’m trying to save my life.
I get up off the table, grabbing one of the chairs and swinging at the other man, but the force of it has me dropping the chair, unable to keep a hold of it.
I’m afraid for myself.
For my children mostly.
And for the little girl hiding upstairs.
It’s them that I fight for as I take another swing, this time using the pan still left out on the side. Spaghetti sauce splatters everywhere.
The chair is used against me, hitting me over the face and chest. My stomach sinks with icy panic when I get pushed into the oven behind me. A sob slips out as I feel something dig into my side, enough to have torn skin and definitely bruise.
The man I knew to be wary of pushes me to his friend before I can get my bearings.
He traps me using his arms to pin mine behind me.
I’m unable to move, too trapped to even jerk my shoulders.
Fear claws its way up my throat, and I begin to shake as I watch the manin front of me switch on the electric hob.
I dare not move my gaze away from the burning red ring.
Or not until the man holding me shuffles me forward.
Visions of my face been held down on the ring shoot through me, giving me another boost of energy to fight.
I kick out, my feet on the oven’s glass doors, whilst pushing back against the man behind me.
I might not be able to walk away from this unscathed, but I won’t make it easy. I’ll fight until the end.
The man behind me doesn’t loosen his grip, and I don’t stop trying to get free.
Leaving the man who is buzzing with excitement to get creative.
He picks up the metal meat mallet from the tub I keep utensils in on the side.
He places the textured side of the mallet onto the stove before turning his baleful gaze on me.
My struggles abruptly stop, and I nearly succumb to my light-headedness.
Nearly. Seconds later, and that is all I give it before I continue to fight.
Because only the loss of all my children will ever make me give up.
His dark brown eyes that almost look black up close, peer into mine as he clutches my neck with one hand. I don’t make it easy for him or for the man behind me. I don’t stop kicking and wiggling.
When the mallet is pressed down on my neck, an intense searing pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, shoots through me.
My scream becomes unnatural, so deep and straight from my chest that I barely stay conscious.
My skin immediately tightens, shrivelling up from the assault.
The smell of burnt flesh hits me, and when he removes the mallet, throwing it back to the stove, the pain doesn’t stop.
In fact, the cool air makes the fresh burn sting to the point I’m no longer coherent.
“Now be a good little house wife and take it,” he sneers, throwing me to the floor. “I might even make it good for you.”
I skid across the wooden flooring, as Black says in a teasing voice, “No you won’t. You only ever make sure it’s good for you.”
I begin to crawl toward the door before a foot is pressed down on my back, the weight vibrating as the man pinning me down laughs. “You are right. I really won’t.”
The pressure is too much and sweat begins to form all over my face when I hear a belt buckle.
He kneels down, pinning my hands behind my back in one hand, whilst another grips my head, smashing my face into the floor.
I fight. I don’t stop. I let the pain drive me.
“Check the front,” Black orders, but makes no attempt himself to move. “I think I just heard something.”
A boot appears in front of me as the man who was holding me before moves through the house. “Sir, move. We have company. A male.”
“Maybe I’ll get a two in one visit,” Black answers, sounding almost giddy as I hear him step back.
I feel breath on the back of my neck. “If you scream, I will slit his throat and make you watch the life drain out of him.”
No, no, no.
In my mind, I scream for them to run.
The front door opens and I see my son, my light, my baby. He barely steps inside before he is hit on the back of his head. His eyes meet mine as he goes down, and they widen in horror before they roll into the back of his head.
“Reid,” I wail, a sob catching in my throat.
“Tie him up,” Black demands.
“With what?” the man asks, looming above my son.
“Find something,” Black grits out, gesturing with his hand to the house.
The hands pinning mine behind me let go. My arms flop to my side, pins and needles shooting up them. My sight barely gets into focus before I’m turned roughly. A punch to the gut has the air escaping me in one painful gush.
“Sir, you should hold your phone up. She’ll be a screamer,” the man above me warns as his hands go to the button on my jeans again.
And the fight enters me once more, although there’s barely any strength behind it this time. I kick and scream, which only drains me quicker. It also makes him angrier as he hits me over and over. I can barely lift my head as I feel my jeans being tugged down.
“Sir, look who I found,” I hear, which is followed by a cry.
A cry that sounds familiar.
Milly.
I try to lift my hand to fight, but I’m not sure if I can move.
I can barely make out the man straddling me, which is no surprise. His knee is digging into the ribs I’m pretty sure he’s broken. I’m seconds away from blacking out.
Then I hear something else.
Cars.
A lot of them.
And then growling.
Sweet, trembling, growling.
My head rolls to the side, unable to fight to stay conscious.
*** *** ***
Milly
I should have stayed in the cupboard I hid in. But I could hear Bear. My Bear. My best friend, the one who understands me.
The sound of the doggy whimpering had me crawling out of my hiding space to go search for him. I was an Addison, and we don’t leave family behind. We aren’t scared of anything.
When I got to the room, Bear was a sleep, but I knew it wasn’t one of his normal naps. It had been Hunter who had been making all those sounds, and he sounded hurt and upset.
They were hurting Miss Liza as I crept down the main stairs. They were hurting her bad, and it only got worse. The police were coming. Jaxon was coming. They promised they would come.
Like I promised to stay hidden.
I wanted to take the dogs and hide them so they didn’t hurt them, but I couldn’t move them.
And that’s when I heard the door open. I thought the police were coming, that Jaxon had arrived.
But then there was a loud bang like something dropped to the floor.
Then I could only hear Liza crying for her son.
She said a name but my ears hurt from the sound so I had covered them with my hands.
I knew I should have hidden. I should have moved under the bed when I heard noises.
Hunter stopped whimpering when the bad man came into the room I was in.
It was the one near the front door. Hunter didn’t make any sound, not even when the bad man dragged me out by my hair.
My eyes widen on Reid sleeping on the floor, and before I can curse the rest of his life, I see the wet, dark patch on the back of his head. I want to scream at them to leave us alone, but the words are lost in my throat.
I move my gaze to Liza, who is also sleeping, lying on the ground with her trousers down.
Images flash in my head, thinking back to the night I was supposed to run.
Malia demanded I run but I didn’t want to leave her.
They tried to remove her clothes too, and whilst I didn’t understand it, I knew it was bad. This is bad. Really bad.
Tears fall down my cheeks as another man gives me the same slimy smile the man who hurt Malia did. I shiver as he runs his fingers down my cheek.
“My, my, my,” he purrs.
Sirens echo in the air and relief fills me.
So does the menacing growl coming from the hallway behind me.
The man drops me on the floor and I fall next to a knife on the kitchen floor.
Hunter sprints inside, going for the man who dragged me in here.
Once I see his teeth clamped around the arm, and everyone’s attention is on them, I reach for the knife.
I don’t want to be scared anymore. Hunter isn’t scared.
Liza wasn’t scared. I heard her fighting back. Malia hadn’t been scared either.
I turn to the man above Liza, the nice lady who makes me feel like Malia does. Like I have a mum again. Or what a mum should feel like. I never felt like this with my mum. Other things interested her more than me.
I crawl the small distance toward him, and thankfully, everyone is still paying attention to Hunter and the man he has brought to his knees.
Adults like them always forget about me.
Before I can chicken out, I stab the knife into the femoral artery of the man above Liza and twist. He roars out in pain, backhanding me until I fly across the floor.
But it’s too late, even as he tries to apply pressure to the wound on his thigh, nothing will stop what will happen.
A door crashes nearby and then men rush in through the back, making me whimper. “Sir, we need to go now before our exit is blocked.”
“Grab them,” he orders, pointing to me and Liza.
Hunter growls, sitting on Liza now as the man who was hurting her grips his leg to stop the bleeding. The other holds his arm that is pouring with blood.
“Sir, I am not going near the dog,” he announces, moving toward the back door.
“Just grab the girl,” the man in charge yells. “Put her in our car.”
“Conscious or unconscious?”
I know what that means. So when his beady eyes land on me, I act scared, and don’t fight. I just need to get to the car and then I’ll activate the chain around my neck. Liam said it will tell them where I am. The same with the one I tied up my hair with.
Malia will come for me.
She will.