Grayson
I lay on the bed in the guest bedroom across the hall from Rowan, staring at the ceiling. It’s like her and I have this wall between us that only communication can fix, but neither of us are good with our words. The only way I can tell her how I feel, is by making her feel it. I hate this cycle, constantly feeling the guilt of what I put her through, or what her father put her through. I need to give my mind a rest for the night and sober up. I’ll see things clearer tomorrow.
The morning light wakes me and the weight of things between Rowan and I quickly weighs on my chest, making it hard to get out of bed. I process the fact that she’s called my name probably five times by now. Springing up from the mattress I walk lazily to my bedroom and open the door, seeing Rowan right where I left her. “What?” I ask her flatly, leaning against the door frame.
“I really have to pee. Would you be a gem and fucking uncuff me?” She snaps.
“No,” I stride over to her, unfastening the cuff that’s attached to the bed and cuffing it to my own wrist. “Let’s go.”
I guide her to the bathroom attached to the bedroom, nudging the door open with my foot.
Rowan shoots me a glare, her jaw tight. “You’re really not going to give me any privacy?”
“Afraid not.” I reply, gesturing for her to step inside the bathroom.
She mutters something under her breath, probably a string of insults that I don’t care to hear. She hesitates for a moment before slipping her sweatpants down and sitting on the toilet.
“Will you fucking turn around?” She snaps. I bite back a smile and turn to the wall.
It’s silent for a good thirty seconds. “Are you going to piss or not?”
“Stop talking, I have a shy bladder.” She clips. I hold back a laugh as I stay facing the wall.
I hear the sound of water running followed by the flush of the toilet. Rowan clears her throat, signaling she’s done. I guide her over to the sink and she washes her hands .
“Happy now?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Ecstatic,” she replies dryly, holding up her cuffed wrist. “You want to uncuff me so I can go get breakfast?”
I smirk, releasing the cuff from my wrist and fastening it back to the metal railing of the bed. “Not a chance. You’re staying put.”
I walk toward the bedroom door and she glares at me. “Where are you going?”
I pause at the door. “Running out to get us breakfast and coffee. I’ll be back in twenty.”
The cool morning air wakes me up as I step outside and settle into the car. As I drive down the empty road, my thoughts are flooded with images of Rowan. I keep trying to shove them out but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about her, and how fucked up I am. I just can’t let her go. I thought I would let her go once I killed Conejo, but I can’t. I need her, even if it means keeping her locked up until she wants to stay with me. It’s twisted, I know.
I drive into the parking lot of the small café and park, stepping out of the car. The bell above the door jingles as I enter, and I make my way to the counter. The familiar smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries fills the air, and I place an order for two coffees and a couple of croissants. As I wait, my mind drifts back to Rowan again. Is it wrong that I find her resistance attractive? Maybe it’s the fact that she isn’t desperate for my attention like I’m used to with women. She’s good with or without me and as much as I hate it, I love that she sees her own value. She’s gone through more than she ever should have had to, yet nothing has shaken her. Rowan stirs something inside of me that I’ve never felt and I can’t just let that go. I may not be good with my words but I need to at least try.
The barista hands me the paper bag and I head back, lost in thought, trying to come up with the words I want to say to Row. I should be more focused on the meeting I have with a new tech expert, but all I can think about is how to fix things with her. The miles roll by, and I get more nervous about talking to Rowan. The last time I spilled my guts to her she ran from me. My car rolls to a stop in the driveway, and I prepare myself to apologize to Rowan and tell her what I want, what I feel. As I approach the house, something feels off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like a primal warning. I quicken my pace and as I enter the house, I hear muffled voices coming from the upstairs and– Fuck Rowans screaming. I rush up the stairs and through the crack of the door, I see three men standing around her, one pistol whipping her bloodied face.
“I don’t know where the fuck he is! I haven’t seen in weeks!” She screams as he continues to beat her. Rage floods through me, cold and dark. I push the door open and charge at the nearest man, catching him off guard. My fist connects with his jaw and he staggers back. The other two turn but I’m already moving. I grab the lamp from the night table and swing it at the second guy, smashing it into his head. He goes down, but I don’t stop. I kick the third man in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and I take the opportunity to grab my gun from the dresser. The first guy who was beating Rowan lunges at me and I bust a cap into his shoulder, then send another bullet into the second one who’s knocked out on the bedroom floor. I turn to aim and shoot at the third guy but before I can shoot, he presses the barrel of his gun into Rowan’s temple.
“Drop the fucking gun or your little princess’s brains are going to paint your bedroom.” He clips.
“ don’t!” Rowan cries. He looks down at her for a moment just long enough for me to take the shot, and I do. He drops down to the floor and his gun clatters against the wood. He goes to crawl to it but I charge over, grabbing his gun and tossing it to Rowan. I tuck my gun into my waistband and drag him to the bathroom. Rowan has seen enough.
“How many more are there?” I ask him.
“Enough to make sure your bitch ends up dead.” He spits.
I let my rage take over and drive my fist into his face over and over again. I feel bones cracking and at this point I don’t know if they’re mine or his but I don’t stop. I beat him until he goes limp and the bathroom floor is covered in his blood.
I stand up, spitting on his lifeless body and before I can think I pull out my pistol, shooting him in the face until the magazine is empty. “Non scopare con la mia famiglia. Non scopare con mia moglie.” I breathe heavily, leaving him there and making my way to Rowan. She’s sobbing quietly with her knees pulled to her chest.
“Row–”
“You said you’d never leave me alone again!” She cries. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. She’s right.
I take the key to the handcuffs out of my pocket and quickly remove them from her wrist. I pull her into me, cradling her and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she tucks her head into my chest with her arms wrapped around me. “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Row. I’m so sorry I left you cuffed with no way of running from them, I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t here and that they did this to you. I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” I pull her head away from me just enough to inspect the gashes on her head and the bridge of her nose. I notice cigarette burn marks on her neck and collarbone and bruising that covers her bare legs.
“How long were they here?” I ask her.
“They got here right after you left.”
They’ve been doing this to her for almost half an hour.
“Did they– did they do anything else?” I ask, choosing my words carefully.
“No,” she answers, laying her head back into my chest .
I cup her face gently, feeling the heavy weight of guilt as I look at her. “I’m going to get my medical kit and stitch you up.” I whisper to her.
“No, don't leave!” She screams, sending her into a panic.
“Rowan, baby. It's okay, it’s just in the bathroom.” I say gently, holding her closer to me. Seeing her scared like this– it’s like a knife to my heart. I thought she was scared when I abducted her, but now I know she wasn’t, not like this.
“Take me with you, please.” She whispers, and I can see the hurt and fear in her eyes. Like her inner child is asking me to protect her. My heart sinks at the sight of her right now.
I scoop her up and carry her towards the bathroom. “Close your eyes,” I tell her before I enter. I don’t want her seeing the man I just killed on the floor. I grab the med kit and carry her to the guest bedroom, so that she doesn’t have to see all of this anymore. I shut the door with my foot and gently lay her down on the mattress but she clings to me, shaking.
“You can open your eyes, Row. It’s okay.” I whisper, brushing my thumb along her cheek.
I dip a rag into a cup of warm water, wringing it out before dabbing it on her cheek. She flinches and I immediately pull back, afraid of causing her more pain .
“Hold still,” I murmur, my voice softer than I intended. “You shouldn’t have to go through this. I should’ve protected you. It was my one job.”
Her eyes meet my gaze and a defiant smile plays on her lips. “It’s not your fault, I’ve been through worse.” She whispers, her voice raspy.
Her words sting, reminding me of everything she went through with Frank. I killed for her, but I should have tortured every single person who harmed her. “No. No one should have laid a hand on you. Ever.” I say, reaching for the antiseptic. I know she likes to make jokes about things that hurt her, but I can’t let her this time. I’m too fucking angry at myself for letting this happen. She should be just as angry at me. As I apply the antiseptic to a deeper cut on her forehead, she winces, sucking in a sharp breath.
I quickly withdraw my hand, guilt flooding my chest. “I’m sorry. I just need to clean it before I suture it.”
She shakes her head slightly and reaches out to touch my arm. “I’m okay,” she assures me gently. “Just a bit sore.”
For a moment, I just stare at her, the weight of everything I wanted to say before I got here hanging between us. “Did you mean what you said last night?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan sits up, and places her hands in mine. “I love you. I mean it.” She whispers .
“Why? After everything I put you through–”
“You didn’t put me through anything. You saved me. And because, , I’m broken. But you seem to pick up my pieces and make me feel a little less broken. You’re filled with darkness but you save your light for me to see. I see the good in you, I see what other people can’t. I trust you, as much as I’ve said I don’t, I do.” She hesitates for a moment, looking down at our hands intertwined, then looks back up at me. “You’re what I’ve needed since I was nine years old. A safe space, someone to protect me.”
I feel a lump in my throat at her words. “But– I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”
“You did,” she cuts me off. “You killed my father. You killed those men. You brought me somewhere safe when I was in danger. Stop being hard on yourself over something you never even had to do in the first place.”
I look down, brushing my thumb along the back of her hand. “I can’t promise I’ll ever be good enough for you,” I say, my voice breaking. “But I promise I’ll try. I’ll never let you get hurt again, Row.”
Her eyes glisten with tears, and she smiles, a small, fragile thing that breaks my heart. “Just– stay with me. That’s all I need right now. ”
I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid her injuries. “Always.” As I pull back, I look into her eyes, feeling all of the raw, unspoken emotions I’ve tried so hard to ignore. “Let me stitch you up so you can rest, baby.”
Rowan nods and grips the pillow as I inject the local anesthetic into her forehead. With each suture, I feel the tension leave her body until she finally falls asleep. For the first time in a while I feel something close to hope. We’ll find a way through this together, but I have a lot of making up to do. After I kill off the rest of Conejo’s men. The whole city is going to feel it when I take them out. I’ll be dropping their heads off at their mothers’ door steps for what they did to Rowan.