Chapter 53
Hannah
It’s done.
As it turns out, sitting and waiting is so boring that it becomes its own special kind of torture.
This is the first time I’ve truly felt that someone is here to rescue me, and it has my nerves buzzing.
With Booker, I had the excitement of the possibility of freedom, but not the reality of it.
Ace says I’m leaving this place today, and I hope he’s right.
Even though I shouldn’t, I leave my assigned seat. Bracing myself for the reflection, I turn to meet my eyes in the mirror. One look confirms my suspicion. I look like shit. Well, good, it matches the way I feel.
The water runs cool as I wash my hands, moving with extra care around the raw skin of my wrists before splashing some on my face.
I take my time, giving myself something to focus on other than waiting.
Scrubbing my teeth with my toothbrush, I go through my normal ritual twice, trying to make up for missing last night’s cleaning.
Lots of things don’t bother me, but the fuzzy feeling on my teeth isn’t one of them. I run my fingers through my hair in a failed attempt to tame the tangles, but it’s clearly a lost cause. At this point, they can shave my head for all I care. I just want to go home.
Home.
The place that once filled me with so much pride, the house I got approved for all on my own, now feels so.
.. different. It’s hard to imagine feeling safe while I sleep there alone, but I’m also not about to crash Gavin’s bachelor lifestyle.
Maybe Ellie could stay for a while. Oh God, she must be a wreck.
Hopefully, she and Gizmo are still on good terms, so she isn’t left to cope with this disaster alone.
If the tables were turned and she were the one missing, I would be completely devastated.
Ace told me to stay put, but my mind is racing, and it’s so quiet in here. What if I’m sitting and waiting for some sick joke? How can I even be sure he’s telling the truth? The window isn’t far from the bathroom. Peeking out and coming back quickly wouldn’t do any harm.
Tip-toeing across the floor, I move toward the glass as if I might disturb someone, and gingerly rest my palms against the pane.
At first, the desert looks exactly as it has before, but then movement catches my eye.
A figure is out there. Whoever it is blends in so well that I wouldn’t have noticed them if they had stayed still.
I squint, trying to see if I can tell who it is, but they’re too far.
Wait. There are more of them. One person is kneeling behind the first, and another is positioned off to the side.
Ace did say there would be a lot of men here.
Maybe he wasn’t lying. A noise at the door startles me, sending me racing back into the bathroom to sit exactly where I was told.
Hearing the lock click into place, I know someone is coming in.
Footsteps fill the room, and then a voice cuts through. It’s one I recognize, but I can’t place where it’s from.
“Hey, where are you hiding? Come on out,” he commands.
I know better than to get up. I was told to stay here. But what if it’s one of the Saints?
“Don’t play games with me, whore. I don’t have much time.”
Definitely not one of the Saints. Weighing my options, I decide to step out of the bathroom and face the bastard.
He’s tall; other than that, nothing but his voice stands out to me about him: brown hair, brown eyes, average build, no facial hair.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I give him a blank expression.
“There you are. Good girl for coming when I call you.” He takes a step forward but stops when we both hear a loud pop from below our feet. It’s muffled, but sharp enough to carry into the room.
Marching over to the door, he throws it open and sticks his head into the hallway. “What the hell was that?”
“Don’t know. Been quiet otherwise. Could be the boss, he’s downstairs,” another voice says.
Another harsh pop is heard, followed closely by a third. The noise rings louder now with the door ajar.
“You, go check on that. Darren will watch your door while you’re gone,” he instructs. He pops his head back into the room.
“Now,” he says to me. “Where were we?” He stalks toward me quickly, grabbing both of my shoulders roughly and pushing me down.
I try to fight him, but I’m so weak. My knees hit the floor. I hang my head so I don’t have to look at him, but I hear the unmistakable sound of his belt and zipper. I clench my jaw shut, knowing what he wants, and breathe deeply through my nose to try and calm my nerves.
That’s when I notice it. The smell. It’s the same motor oil scent from the car when I was blindfolded. The one I smelled when they took me. When they...
“Hey, bitch. Let’s go. It’s time I get my fucking turn. Don’t act shy now.”
My breathing catches in my throat, and I feel like I might pass out. Sitting back on my heels, I try to put some space between us when something I can only describe as a quick round of firecrackers fills the air.
“The fuck is going on now?” he asks, mostly under his breath. “Hey.” He speaks more firmly, gripping the tangled mat of hair on the top of my head and pulling it back. “Told you, I’m in a hurry here.”
Forced to look at him now, he shoves himself in my face. I try to squirm, but his grip on my hair sears through my scalp.
What happens next is done before I can piece it all together, but his grip suddenly loosens, and he falls to the floor. His body lies next to me, jerking and jumping as it’s filled with bullets.
When I finally move my head, I catch a blood-spattered Gavin as he comes through the doorway. He looks both beautiful and terrifying at once.
Moving into the room fully, he positions himself over the body and leans forward, checking for a pulse. He then rams the butt of his rifle into man’s face causing a wet crunching sound.
Turning, he kneels to get level with me.
“Hey Butterfly.” He says softly, searching my eyes with his. “Fuck, I missed you.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I almost can’t believe he’s here. More popping sounds fill the house, and I should probably move, but I can’t stop looking into his eyes.
Giving me a once-over, he asks, “Are you alright?”
I manage a small nod.
With slow movement, he raises his hand to my face.
His touch brushes no heavier than the air on my skin while he catalogs my wounds.
I want to look away as embarrassment consumes me.
Not only do I look terrible, but a quick shower would have been a better use of my alone time than peering out the window.
“Okay.” He exhales, extending his hand to me. “I need you to get up and hide out while we sweep the rest of the house. Once I know it’s safe, I’ll come get you.”
Again, I nod before allowing him to help me up and lead me back to the bathroom.
This is beyond surreal. He’s here. Gavin showed up, and it's a miracle. Or is it? I can't help thinking I'm still on the floor, head ringing from a fist I didn't see coming. Maybe I'm just dreaming all of this up to replace the guy who was standing over me.
I sit, and Gavin studies me. A slow, head-to-toe scan that ends with a wince. He looks like he’s the one who’s been hit.
I know how I look, and it isn’t great. Casting my eyes down, feelings of filth and shame fill me. What could have been the start of something beautiful between us has been so tainted by the anger and greed of others.
While it would make sense for me to blame Gavin, I don’t. He’s not responsible for the actions of others, only his own.
My eyes land on his torso. “There’s blood...” I rasp out.
“Not mine, baby.” He assures me. “I’m alright. I’m worried about you.”
Rough fingertips softly nudge my chin, bringing my gaze up to look into those beautiful sage green eyes. The same ones I’ve thought of every night when my mind leaves this place. His pained expression is softer, remorseful.
“I am so sorry they took you, brought you here, beat you, and... so much more.” He kneels before me, no longer towering over my body as I try to shrink myself away. “This shit is my fault, and my word probably means fuck-all to you anymore, but I want to at least say I’m sorry.”
Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my knuckles before setting it back down gently on my lap.
“Please, stay here. I’ll be back soon, and one of my men will be watching the doors, making sure no one comes in but me. Anyone who tries to get to you won’t survive it.” He rises up to his feet.
“How do you know that?” I rasp out.
“Because I’ll make sure of it.” He answers.
He looks so beautiful and powerful standing in the doorway.
Combat-style boots, tan cargo pants, tan shirt, a bulletproof vest adorned with what I can only imagine is an assortment of needed supplies, and a long rifle slung over his shoulder.
He’s like my very own bad ass savior, who has risked everything to save me.
True to his word, Gavin came back not five minutes later, the house now quiet. Holding my hand in his, he warns me of what lies outside my door. I’m prepared to see the bodies and the blood that comes with it, but we can’t leave yet. No matter how much I want to.
“Thank you.” I start. “What you all risked to be here, just for me... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express in words what that means to me.”
“Hey...” He says as he pushes my unkempt hair over my shoulder.
“No, wait.” I stop him. “While I am so happy you came for me, I think there may be other girls here. If there are, we can’t leave them.”
“There are. Or, there were.” He says with certainty.
“My men searched the rooms and informed me they found seven other women. None of them will be left behind, Butterfly. I’ve already assigned each one to one of my men, who will personally see to it that they’re cared for and have proper housing while they recover, if needed.
Gizmo will help them find anyone they need, family or friends.
” His hand comes up to brush away a single tear that managed to escape.
“You’re all leaving here today, baby. It’s done. ”
Taking a deep breath in, I realize it’s the first real one I’ve had in days.
It feels like my lungs are finally expanding past the terror.
As much as I want to crumble right here in Sarge’s arms, I refuse to give this house the satisfaction.
This moment is too raw and too precious to be wasted on a room where my nightmares live.
The relief needs to be honored and felt fully, but it belongs somewhere else. Somewhere safe.
As though he senses the bracing of my body, the way I’m holding myself together by a single thread, he tugs on my hand.
“Stay with me, Butterfly. You can close your eyes if you need to.”
I force a small smile. “No, I’ll be okay. Let’s go.”
Hand in hand we move towards the door, the very one that’s kept me trapped here and locked behind it. But now it sits before me, wide open—no knocking to leave. No guards. No one to come through and abuse my body however they want.
I take one last look over my shoulder at the four walls that were my living nightmare. The bed where I both lost little bits of myself, and then pieced them back together in darkness. All alone. Where I cried just enough to console my soul, and remind myself that I’m alive.
Biting my bottom lip, I squeeze Sarge’s hand like a lifeline, and he returns by constricting his grip around mine.
Stepping through the doorway and over a body, we walk out together.
While I know I’m not magically healed, I feel so much lighter.
As we descend the stairs, I finally get a look at the house in its entirety.
It is amazing how something so elegant can be so horrific.
All the fine furnishings and decor are simply a mirage for the torture they conceal.
At the bottom of the stairs stands Ace.
“Hey, Honey.” He says softly. “You ready to get the fuck out of this place?”
I half-laugh-half-sob out, “fuck yes.”