23. Chapter Twenty-Three Ruby
Chapter Twenty-Three: Ruby
T he footsteps came fast. I had to go up the stairs.
I stayed down, tried to be sneaky. As my heart pounded in the darkness, a fleeting thought of Rosie’s eyes urged me to keep my guard up as I prepared to move deeper into the unknown.
I was glad she wasn’t here.
Whatever this was…it was better I was here all by myself.
I wasn’t used to moving in shadows. I stumbled once, but not loud enough to give myself away.
My knees buckled when my foot caught on something loose—a nail, maybe?—but I didn’t fall. I held myself steady.
Kept my body low and crept up the staircase of the brownstone, hoping the old wood didn’t betray me. There wasn’t any way out of this place except through them--at least not a place where he wouldn’t see me.
My breath sounded loud in my ears, but I didn’t stop to listen for anything else.
I stayed low, moving from room to room, hugging walls, rushing up stairs.
Their footsteps were heavy. Every footfall was louder than the last, echoing through the brownstone.
If I’d been seen, they would have said something. They didn’t, so I kept moving.
My heart pounded, and my breath was hot in my mouth, heavy in my lungs.
How did they find me so fast? Why was no one watching the house? Alek would be pissed.
My phone was in my purse, which was in the kitchen, and it had been so fucking stupid to leave it there.
I finally managed to turn a corner to go up the stairs.
I heard him behind me. Close. I had to run. Alek had been right, why was no one protecting me? Why was no one watching my house?
I knew that I had to go get the gun. With every desperate step, the memory of Rosie’s voice echoing through the house allowed me to stave away the panic.
My lungs were burning, but I didn’t stop. If I could reach the gun, maybe I had a chance.
I was tired, scared, tipsy. Didn’t slow down. I was on my own. That was nothing new. I should have known. No one would help.
My only chance was to keep running, keep going. If I stopped, they’d have me.
I heard him, getting closer. Had to move faster. My chest hurt, burning. They couldn’t be trusted.
None of them.
But I knew that already. Was it worth it? Worth getting caught, getting killed? My fault. I should have listened. Should have known.
Alek would never let me hear the end of it…when we met again in hell, I supposed.
The intruder was gaining on me. I thought of Rosie. Was she safe? She had to be. If I didn’t get out of this, I would never forgive myself. I couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t give up. I was desperate. Faster.
I was so close.
It was all I could do. Keep going, stay alive. So close, so fucking close. But so was he. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was scared. I kept moving.
That’s what mattered. I wouldn’t give up.
I took a step up. The stairs creaked.
A hand clamped around my ankle.
I went down hard.
My knees slammed into the steps, white-hot pain ricocheting up my legs. I screamed—wordless, instinctive—and kicked, twisting, but his grip was a goddamn vice. I clawed for the railing, the banister, the wood, anything, but he was already dragging me backward, dragging me down.
“No—no, no—” The words tore out of me in a panic, as I thrashed against him. My palms scraped against the edge of a step. Blood bloomed. Didn’t matter. I kicked harder.
“Fucking bitch,” a voice hissed. “You ruined my goddamn life.”
My blood turned to ice.
Mickey Russell.
Of course it was him. Of course.
His grip cinched tighter, yanking me flat against the steps, knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasped, choking on the pain.
“You think you can destroy a man like me and walk away clean?” he snarled. “You think you could humiliate me in court, paint me like some fucking monster?”
He was on me now. Pinning me. His breath was hot and sour against my cheek, his knee pressing into my thigh, locking me down. My head slammed against the wood, stars exploding in my vision.
“I was a fucking doctor,” he spat. “I had a future. A family. I had everything. And you? You took it. You took it all.”
“I took nothing you didn’t fucking earn,” I gasped, lashing out with my elbow. I caught him in the ribs. A sick crunch.
He growled—an animal sound—and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. Pain flared like lightning.
“You think that matters now?” he whispered. “Nobody cares. Nobody’s coming for you.”
I twisted, slammed my heel into his shin. He shouted, punched the floor beside my head hard enough to rattle the step.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, spittle hitting my face. “You’re just another lying whore who couldn’t take a real man. You think I didn’t know where you lived? I’ve been watching you. Every day. Every night. You walk around like you're safe. Like you won.”
The walls felt like they were closing in, the shadows in the stairwell swallowing me whole. My body throbbed, scraped raw from the fall. My mouth tasted like blood. My vision swam.
But I kept fighting.
“You’re not getting out of this,” he whispered. “And if you scream, I’ll make sure that kid of yours—what’s her name? Rose?—gets the next visit.”
A scream ripped up my throat, raw and feral. I went ballistic.
I clawed at his face, shoved my thumb into his eye, kicked with everything I had left. He howled, jerking back, giving me one precious second.
I took it.
I surged up, kneeing him in the gut as hard as I could, shoving my shoulder against his to knock him off balance. My fingers were slick with blood and sweat, but I grabbed the railing, hauled myself up, threw myself up the stairs.
He grabbed my ankle again.
I turned, kicked him in the face.
He let go.
He stumbled back with a roar of pain, his hands covering his eye. “You’re dead,” he panted. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Get in line,” I snapped, half-crawling up the stairs, my whole body shaking.
“You fucking bitch,” he spat—and then he was on me again. His words were terrifying and familiar.
His knee crushed into my thigh, pinning me down. Making it impossible to squirm away. His weight was suffocating. The house felt like it was caving in, trapping me…just like him.
The steps covered in blood.
Would Rosie have to tell her therapist about that?
“Let me go!” I screamed, hoping, knowing, he wouldn’t. “You can’t do this. Not to me. Not to anyone.”
The words filled the room, mingling with the fear, the desperation.
I got in a final kick, buying just enough time to spit back at him. “You’re not going to get away with it.”
“We’ll see about that, bitch,” he said.
He couldn’t even use my name. I vividly remembered his.
Another case. Another man who thought he could get away with everything. Who thought he could destroy the people who loved him and then blame them for it. Who thought he was smarter than the rest of us, who thought he would never be the one to end up behind bars.
Who thought he could come after me, take everything from me.
Again.
He had beaten his wife so badly she had almost died. Then, he had tried to take their children by claiming she was abusive. By making himself the victim, like they always did. But I knew better.
I always knew better.
I made him look like a fool in court. I ruined his plans, his life. I stopped him from hurting her again. From taking their kids.
I exposed him.
But Melody hadn’t deserved any of that. She was one of the sweetest women I had ever met. No one had stopped him, until I got involved.
He shoved me hard against the steps and I gasped.
Now he was here, about to fucking kill me.
“You ruined my life,” he snarled.
His hands clamped down on my arms. His breath came in harsh gasps, hot and thick with rage. My pulse was too fast, each beat a reminder of everything I was supposed to do. Everything I was supposed to be.
A reminder that I didn’t have the luxury of giving up.
I had to fight.
For me, for Rosie, for everything he had tried to take. I couldn’t let him win.
I wouldn’t let him.
“You’re fucking dead,” he spat, his grip tightening, but I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me or himself. His hands went up my body, toward my face, where he stroked my cheek.
It made my skin crawl.
He moved his hands toward my neck and started to squeeze. Not hard. Not yet, anyway.
“I know you think you’re untouchable,” he growled, his voice a sharp blade. “But you’re not.”
I didn’t respond, not right away. My silence was a weapon I learned to use a long time ago, with men just like him.
His rage was a fire, filling the room, filling me.
“Answer me, you fucking bitch,” he yelled, his voice filling every inch of the room, every inch of my thoughts. “You ruined me.”
He wanted me to tell him that I was scared, that he won, that he got the best of me, that he found me first.
But I wouldn’t.
“You thought you could take me down and get away with it?” His breath was hot against my cheek, my skin crawling with disgust. “Thought you could destroy my life and just walk away?”
“You deserved prison,” I spat. “You deserved worse. Men like you think they can get away with everything, and you fucking can't.”
The grip around my throat tightened. “You have no fucking idea what I deserve.” His voice dropped, low and furious. “I spent six years in a cage because of you. You lied. You twisted everything. You made me into a goddamn monster.”
He thought he was the one who was wronged.
He thought he was the fucking victim.
I knew he would, but it still filled me with rage, still fueled me, still pushed me to fight back even harder.
“I didn’t forget about you,” he said, his breath hot and furious. “Not for one fucking second.”
“You made yourself a monster,” I said. “I just put you where you belonged.”
“No. You made me into this,” he said, his fingers tightening around my throat, cutting off the air, cutting off everything.
He thought he would win.
It should have scared me more than it did.
I should have known.
I should have been ready.
“This time, you don’t have a court to back you up,” he growled, his breath hot and foul against my face.
His eyes were wild, bloodshot, filled with something that looked like vengeance and something that smelled like desperation.
“This time, I’m the one with the fucking power…
and not even your tough-talking boyfriend can stop me. ”
Boyfriend?
My mind scrambled to make sense of it—Julian? Alek?
No. That wasn’t right.
But there was no time to process it. No time to think.
His hands wrapped around my throat.
Tight. Unforgiving.
The pressure closed in fast. My lungs clawed for air. The world went quiet at the edges, muffled and distant. My legs kicked. My fingers scrambled for leverage, for anything, but he had me pinned. The floor was cold. My vision spotted. The edges of the world began to bleed into shadow.
He was going to kill me.
He’d waited. Watched. Followed. And now he thought I was alone. He thought this was justice. Thought this was his moment.
And maybe it was.
My strength was failing. My limbs were leaden. Every breath was a war I was losing.
But just before the dark pulled me under—
Just before the blackness swallowed me whole—
I thought of him.
Not Julian. Not Alek.
Kieran.
I had told him to stay away. Swore I never wanted to see him again. Said it so many times I almost believed it.
But he always came.
Every time.
And as the world faded, as Mickey Russell leaned in with death on his breath, all I could do was pray—
Please. Let him come this time too.