Chapter 60
SIXTY
Blakely
In the blink of an eye, Jeffrey knocked the lid off the box on the shelf next to him and reached inside.
But Devon was just as quick. He stepped forward and drew his gun a moment before Jeffrey pulled something out of the box.
It was a triumphant feeling, watching the shock and confusion play out across his face when he didn’t grab the gun he’d stashed there but the peanut butter cookies I’d replaced it with.
“We swept the entire room, Jeff,” I stated. “The gun you stashed there and the one in your desk are gone.”
He stared down at the cookies and slammed them on the shelf with a derisive snort. “I appreciate the effort. Now, put the gun down, caveman. You’re not going to shoot me.”
Devon didn’t flinch or move an inch. The gun stayed trained on Jeffrey. “I don’t hesitate when it comes to her.”
“So, what’s the play here? What do you want from me, Blakely? I’ve told you everything you wanted to know. I did what I did because I wanted to. I wanted to see firsthand the effects of kidnapping, stalking, and torture. And you were so brittle, you were an amazing test subject. What more is there? Are you going to shoot me? Turn me in?”
Devon tensed but kept the gun level. Standing out of sight, I knew he hadn’t been out of hearing distance. He’d heard every single thing Jeffrey had said. I could see the restraint vibrating over his skin. He was trying to keep it together when I knew he wanted to rip Jeffrey’s head off.
But he wasn’t going to act unless he had to. This was my party. My vengeance.
“That’s actually a funny story, Jeffrey,” I said. I rounded the couch in slow, measured steps, my boots thumping against the hardwood floor. “See, everyone already knows, and they’ll be in here in about”—I glanced down at my nonexistent watch—“twenty minutes. I just made sure I beat them here.”
“So, you could get the answers you so desperately needed?” I kept walking as he spouted the shit I expected. “Does it make you feel better to know now? As a professional, I would like you to know that it won’t change anything. The damage is done, Blakely. The damage I did, it’s permanent.”
“I know you would like to think that,” I said, not missing a beat and tuning out every word. He was outnumbered and cornered. When faced with a challenge, I wasn’t surprised he chose first to fight. “Why don’t you take a seat, Jeff?” I motioned to his favorite leather chair.
It was the most minute movement, but I clocked Jeffrey’s eyes flashing to the office door. A second later, he was sprinting toward it. Neither Devon nor I moved.
He wanted to fight, but knowing there wasn’t a chance he’d win, flight it was.
He yanked on the handle, but the wooden door didn’t budge. He tried again, and still it didn’t budge.
“It’s locked from the outside,” I announced. “Your attempts are futile, so why don’t you do what I asked and sit the hell down?”
Jeffrey spun slowly. “You know, Blakely, I sent those teenagers to that house. They found you because I wanted them to find you. And I let you ‘recover’ for months because I wanted it to happen that way. Then I came back into your life at the exact right time. I wanted you to think you were improving, only to be broken once again.”
Hot tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, and I fisted my hands, digging my nails into my palms. He was trying to wind me up, and I wasn’t going to let it happen.
Instead, I was growing irritated with how long this was taking. We didn’t have much longer, and I had so much more planned. Like he was reading my mind—or maybe just my expression—Devon strode forward, stepping around the coffee table and beelining for him.
Jeffrey had the wherewithal to look scared. Devon grabbed his arm and manhandled him into the chair. He fell back so hard, the chair almost tumbled. But Devon caught it and righted him.
“Perfect. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Devon straightened and resumed his stance, pointing the gun at Jeffrey’s fuming, frustrated face. I stepped around him and let my hand trace across his lower back. A quick reassuring and appreciative touch. His lips twitched in a smile, but he didn’t move.
I quickly opened the back door and gathered the supplies we’d brought along. Sifting through the contents, I freed the five lengths of rope and turned back to the two men. Jeffrey was heaving angry, shallow breaths out of his nose. His face was red and sweat beaded on his forehead.
Satisfaction made my legs feel lighter as they carried me back across the room.
“Now, Jeff, are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to use this?” I showed him the rope in my hands.
He glanced at it and hardened his expression. “I wouldn’t bet on cooperation.”
I shrugged because his decision didn’t change anything. I was resolved in my plan and was determined to see it through. Stepping forward, there was no hesitation in my movements as I pulled my hand back and backhanded him across the face.
Spittle flew from his mouth, and red immediately bloomed across his cheek. A small scratch appeared, blood pooling against his angry skin, where I must have nicked him with my nail. Once he realized what I’d done, he tried to lurch for me.
I stood my ground, an unmoving statue, as Devon shoved him back into the chair.
When he straightened, I looked at Devon. “Your turn.”
Like me, he didn’t hesitate. The gun remained in his right hand, but his left reared back and landed a resounding punch across the opposite cheek. It was hard enough that Jeffrey’s head lolled, and his body went limp.
Devon shook out his hand and resumed his position. “Go for it,” he said, motioning to Jeff with the gun. I made quick work of tying his legs and arms to the chair, then, for good measure, I tied another the best I could around his midsection and the back of the chair.
I took a step back and looked at my work. My knots were sturdy thanks to my Boy Scout standing next to me.
My heart was pounding a furious beat in my chest, but it wasn’t nerves; it was anticipation.
Jeffrey was slowly coming to, blinking back the fog and trying to focus his eyes. “What—” he started and fought his restraints. He tried to yank his arms free or move his legs, but they didn’t budge.
“What the hell are you two doing?” he seethed.
“Ten minutes,” Devon reminded me, and I gave him a quick nod. I made a mental note to tell him again how much he meant to me. How I wouldn’t have made it this far without him. How I likely wouldn’t be alive without him.
I’d tell him—and show him—every day just how much I loved him.
Knowing he was by my side, I drew the knife I’d stashed in my back pocket. In one swift flick, I flipped open the blade and eyed the sharp tip. I’d spent thirty minutes the night before learning from Devon how to sharpen a knife. We’d sat at the kitchen table and gone over the plan while he prepped the blade.
“You’ve gotta be fucking?—”
“Your turn is over,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear another fucking word. But you can scream as loud as you want. No one is going to hear you.”
“Stop screaming. No one can hear you.”
My words were so reminiscent of his that the memory pushed through to the forefront of my mind. It only fueled my vengeful indignation.
Devon followed my lead and walked around the chair as I stood in front of him. He gripped Jeffrey’s brown hair at the root and yanked his head back, but not too far back where he couldn’t see exactly what I was about to do.
Jeffrey howled in pain, but there wasn’t anything he could do. With dexterous fingers, I rolled his right sleeve up past his elbow, exposing his forearm. I dragged my nail down the smooth skin and met his terrified eyes as I replaced my finger with the knife.
“Now, try to stay still or I might hit something important.”
The first press of the blade into his skin, and he was already bellowing. But his pain propelled me forward. Blood pooled against his pale flesh, and I carved into it with ease. The rope did its job, and Devon kept his head and shoulders from flailing.
With each letter, my soul lightened, and another part of me healed. Every letter mended what he had tried to break.
U.
N.
B.
R.
O.
K.
E .
N.
It was a tight fit and a little messy, but the entire word was there. I glanced from my work to Jeffrey’s pale, damp face. He whimpered and groaned as Devon shoved his head forward. Like his neck was too weak to hold it up, it slumped awkwardly against the back of the chair.
I took a step back, directly into Devon’s hard chest. His hand found my hip, then made a deliberate path up the center of my back before it settled at the base of my neck. A reminder I needed in that moment.
After several long breaths, Jeffrey managed to look down at his arm. Even through all the pain I’d inflicted, he laughed. The sound was broken and a little strangled.
“What is this supposed to be? You think you’re clever?”
My heart pounded in my chest, and I swallowed around the remnants of my rage. “It’s a reminder. One you will see every single day of the rest of your pathetic life,” I seethed, hot tears streaking down my cheeks. “A reminder that you didn’t succeed, and I’m not broken. ”