37. She Chose Violence
She Chose Violence
Jacob
Now really isn't the fucking time for my cock to be standing to attention.
I'm covered in blood. My shoulder feels like somebody shoved molten metal through it. There's dried blood on my chest that isn't even all mine. And yet the second Summer slapped Tamara across the face, something dark and possessive inside me practically purred.
Christ.
The look on Summer's face afterward nearly fucking kills me. Because she's furious. Not scared. Not uncertain. Furious. She's finally reached the end of everything she's willing to tolerate, and she sure as shit isn't tolerating any other woman fussing over me right now.
Tamara disappeared down the corridor holding her cheek and the room fell into stunned silence behind her.
The nurse that comes in has a flushed face and I can tell she heard it all. She blinks at me slowly before quietly deciding she wants absolutely no part in whatever the fuck just happened, and busies herself rearranging supplies at the opposite side of the room.
And honestly?
Smart woman.
I try to readjust myself, my aching hard cock straining at an awkward angle, but the slightest motion feels like a red hot poker being pressed through me.
"Jesus," I mutter.
Summer's head snaps toward me instantly, all the anger disappearing from her face in a heartbeat.
"Jacob—"
She's beside me again immediately. Her hands cup my face so carefully it physically hurts. Because of her softness. Because it's her. Because she's looking at me like I'm the most important thing in the fucking world.
"I love you, Jacob Darnell," she whispers shakily.
The words hit me like a bullet straight to the chest.
"I love you so fucking much."
Then she kisses me. Soft. Desperate.
And I realize this is the first kiss we've shared since we found each other again.
"And I will never let anything or anyone separate us again."
Jesus Christ.
My eyes close briefly, because I don't think she understands what hearing that does to me after tonight. Hell, after everything that's happened over recent days.
After finding that she'd gone.
After the blood splatters and the broken mirror in the en-suite and I knew she'd fought to stay.
After thinking Jackson had gotten inside her head so deeply I'd never get her back.
After watching her pull a gun to save my fucking life.
"Baby," I murmur against her mouth, "there's no man, animal, or God that could keep me away from you now."
And I mean every single fucking word.
Silent tears fall down her cheeks while she looks at me like she still can't believe we survived this. I brush my thumb beneath one of them carefully.
Then realize my own vision's gone blurry too.
I think it's pain. Shock. Blood loss.
But no.
It's her. It's the overwhelming fucking relief sitting inside my chest like a live wire. Because she's here. She's alive. Back in my arms where she belongs.
And suddenly the agony in my shoulder dulls beneath something far more powerful.
Love.
Contentment.
Desire.
Possessiveness.
All twisting together until I genuinely don't know how to contain any of it.
Summer leans closer carefully, pressing her forehead against mine. And for a few seconds the entire room disappears.
No Jackson.
No Ridge.
No blood.
Just us breathing each other in like we're trying to recover pieces of ourselves.
Then after a long silence, she whispers softly—
"Do you know what happened to Harris?"
My brow furrows slightly. "Harris?"
"The butler," she says quietly. "He slipped me a note to say you were coming."
I shake my head slowly. "I saw him at Vale's place. After the ‘copter—"
Just thinking about that fucking helicopter makes rage twist sharply through me again. I remember standing on that lawn watching it disappear into the dark with her trapped inside.
Helpless.
I never want to feel that powerless again for the rest of my life.
"He told me where you'd be," I say quietly, running my fingers through her dark hair slowly.
The brunette strands still feel wrong. But I don't let my face show it.
"It took me a while to figure out how to get inside," I continue. "Had to wait for the cunt in a coma to wake up."
Summer's expression tightens immediately. "Kurt."
Hatred slices through me so violently it takes a second to answer. "Yeah."
The room falls quiet again briefly, but I can't help noticing the way Summer works her lower lip. I know he betrayed her. I know he gave her an idea of a life without me when he held her in his arms. And so help me God, I wish I'd had time to drag the motherfucker's death out longer.
I expect her to question me about him, but the resolve in her eyes tells me she's not ready. I open my mouth to speak, to tell her that the son of a bitch met his maker under the heel of my boot, but then she changes the subject.
"Why'd Harris help you?" she asks softly. "Did you scare him or something?"
A humorless laugh leaves me. "No."
I lean my head back carefully against the bed.
"His daughter's tied into Moore's network."
But Summer doesn't react like this news is new to her.
"She spent time at the Ridge."
"Oh my God," she whispers. "I knew he had a daughter and I knew she was tied to Jackson, but I didn't know she'd been there."
I nod once, slowly. The silence afterward feels crushing, because now we both know what Harris sacrificed to help her escape.
Not just his life. His daughter's safety too.
Summer lowers her eyes briefly before whispering—
"I still don't know what really happens to women there. I mean, I have an idea, but—"
My chest tightens.
"I don't know either, baby. But one thing's certain. That place will never be used again."
The corner of her lip rises just a bit, and she forces a look of relief, but deep down I know whatever happened there will haunt her for the rest of her life. And I'll do anything, fucking anything, to take it all away from her.
"Harris said his daughter was called Sarah. I swore to myself I'd find her. That I'd help her after Harris risked his life to save me."
"I don't know where she is, Summer," I admit.
And seeing the sadness in her eyes does something to me. She notices and looks to the ground for a long moment.
Then her gaze moves, locking onto mine before she speaks again.
"Jackson took me to the warehouse before we went to the first house."
My stomach drops instantly. "Fuck."
Her eyes meet mine. "The women there…" She swallows hard. "Jacob, it was awful."
Rage burns violently beneath my ribs. She shakes her head slowly like she still can't fully process what she saw.
"I've never seen anything like it. And if Sarah's there—"
I reach for her immediately. "We'll get them out."
Her eyes flick up to mine.
"Now that I have you back," I say firmly, "and Jackson's handled…" The word tastes wrong. He's still breathing. "We'll tear every single one of those places apart."
Emotion floods her face instantly.
"And Harris's daughter?"
I brush my hand carefully through her hair again. "We'll make sure she gets back to her father."
Summer's face crumples slightly at that, because we both know Harris might already be dead but neither of us says it out loud.
The room falls quiet again except for the faint beeping of monitors nearby. Adelaide lingers awkwardly near the doorway like she's trying to decide whether she should leave us alone or stay.
Then her cell comes to life with some hipster trash song that's overplayed on every fucking radio show.
She glances at the screen.
"Oh." Something flashes quickly across her face before she looks toward us. "I need to take this."
She lifts the phone slightly as explanation before stepping back out into the corridor.
The second the door shuts behind her, Summer shifts closer again instantly. Like she physically cannot bear distance between us anymore.
Honestly?
Same.
She scoots along the edge of the bed until there's nothing left between us, then carefully tucks herself against my uninjured side, mindful of the blood and the dressings and every part of me that's held together with thread right now.
The second her body settles into mine, a rough sound nearly leaves my throat.
Because Christ. I missed her. Missed this. Missed breathing properly.
Then she reaches up and pushes her fingers back through my hair, slow, nails dragging lightly against my scalp, and my eyes damn near roll back in my head.
Summer notices my expression immediately. "What?"
I shake my head once, slowly. "You have no idea what you do to me every time I look at you."
A weak laugh leaves her. "I look horrific."
"You're perfect. You've been through hell and come out the other side. You're mine. And every time I look at you, I love you more and more."
The words come out rougher than intended. Possessive. Primitive.
But instead of pulling away, Summer melts closer, her face tilting to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. And something dangerous inside me settles instantly.
She's finally fucking safe.
My fingers trace lightly over the bruises around her wrist. Rage coils as I feel the uneven textures on her skin.
Jackson touched her. Restrained her. Terrified her.
And suddenly I genuinely don't think torture is enough for him anymore.
Summer watches something dark move across my face immediately.
"Don't," she whispers softly.
My eyes snap to hers. "Don't what?"
"Disappear into your head."
Christ.
The way she can read me when no one else can nearly undoes me. I exhale slowly through my nose before pressing my forehead carefully against hers again.
"Can't help it."
"You saved me."
"No," I murmur quietly. "We saved each other."