Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
“Make it quick, Eric,” Bundy orders from the foot of the bed, his soulless eyes eating up the violent struggle between me and the man I married.
My knife is gone, the only leverage I had to hold my own against Eric as he pulls me by my throat away from the nightstand and slams me to the bed. Coughing, my body twists as I crawl as fast as I can for the other side, desperate to keep space between them and myself.
Eric’s hand circles my ankle, tugging me back toward him with a rough jerk.
He blocks my legs easily with his forearm as I kick out at his face, trying to mar the cruel expression I’ve never seen on it until today.
This man is hellbent on hurting me, like we hadn’t spent years in this house together.
In this bed. And every second of it, this brutal person has been hiding in plain sight.
Disguised by a patient facade as he watched me wallow inside these walls.
I cry out in panic as he crawls over me and wraps his large hand around my throat once more.
Leaning down, he has no trouble pinning me to the bed even though I fight him. I give it my all to escape the cage he’s made with himself but I’m past my physical limit after the abuse I’ve suffered. There’s just nothing left and I sob as my arms struggle to resist him.
No, goddammit. I’m so close. Bo needs me.
His mouth hovers over my ear as he tightens his grip on my throat, ignoring the clawing nails scratching at his skin. Licking his lips, he laughs lightly. “You know, this is exactly how I pictured killing you when I saw that video, Emma. When I saw you and Bo with those fucking men.”
I'm fucking dying. Giving up on the grip he has on my neck, I try to scratch at his face until he sits back on his heels, continuing to choke the life from me.
Adjusting his grip, he gathers both of my hands in one of his and holds them to the pillow above my head so he can strangle me without interruption.
“I never doubted you, Eric. I always knew you were cut from a different cloth than the rest.” Bundy laughs and the sound is casual. Maybe a little excited. They both are acting like this is something they’ve looked forward to rather than a task that needs completed so they can escape.
I can feel Eric’s erection as he sees my face changing colors. Hungry eyes watching as mine start to drift.
“She was a disappointment anyway. A whore just like my cous—” Eric’s insult cuts off when the door bangs open and several low thuds precede Bundy’s gasp of air.
Eric’s head snaps to the side just in time for us to see Bundy’s body collapse to the ground with a groan, revealing Noah’s devastating figure behind him.
When he catches sight of the hands around my throat, a feral growl rips from his throat and he stalks forward, pointing the Glock at Eric’s head.
The suppressor’s already attached, ready to kill.
“Get the fuck off of her.” It’s a voice I’ve never heard from him, the command Noah gives, and I know right then that he never truly tried to scare me before.
I’ve never seen this version of him in even his worst moments.
Eric must hear it too, because he scrambles backward, his frantic eyes glued to the barrel, tripping over Bundy’s bleeding form.
The latter scoots back to the dresser, both of his knees bleeding heavily along with another wound to his shoulder.
Just enough to disable him without killing him.
I suck in air greedily, hands jumping to my throat to dislodge the phantom fingers that are still ratcheted around it.
Coughs rack my ruined body as I roll to my side, quaking violently.
I’d just barely avoided death. I expected a lot from Eric, but for some reason I hadn’t believed he could really kill me.
Noah reaches down to grab Bundy’s discarded weapon and tucks it in the back of his pants, keeping his gun trained on Eric. “Baby, come here,” he says, side-stepping to me, his free hand.
“Noah?” I croak, forcing myself to release my own throat and get to my knees.
“Yeah, baby, I’m here.” His voice shakes, eyes cutting to mine for a moment. It’s all I need, because I see everything in there. The same fear that’s eaten my soul to almost nothing.
I crawl toward his body, afraid to blink in case this is some kind of death hallucination. I think I’m saying his name on repeat as I reach him and his arm goes to my back. Holding me as tightly as he can as sobs wrack through my chest.
“I know, baby. Everyone’s almost here, I’m not going anywhere.” His words are a ghost against my forehead, his hands too tight but it feels so good.
I stare up at his face but the tears fall so fast it looks like he’s washing away.
“Shh,” he coddles me as I cling to him like he’s the only driftwood I can find in this shipwreck. He’ll get us to shore. That’s what he does. “I’m here, Angel. I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine, you hear me? Jesse!” he shouts, turning his head to the side to keep from yelling in my ear.
Jesse’s here, thank god. He’ll be focused on Bo, he’ll get him help. We’re going to be okay.
I can’t stop crying, and I shove my head so far into his jacket I can barely breathe, but the scent of him does something to me that I don’t even mind. Fuck air, he is safety. I could stay here forever, hidden.
Another crash from the doorway strikes enough fear into me that I wriggle free, desperate to see if a guard is cornering us.
But no, it’s Jesse, his tall frame filling the doorway and I’ve never been so fucking happy to see every lethal foot of him in front of me.
Chest heaving, his eyes promise pain to the men in front of us and I can’t help but peek back at them to see if they see it too.
That my men will break them, and I will love watching it happen.
“You’re not dying here, motherfucker. You’re coming home with me,” Jesse growls, grabbing Bundy under his arms and starting to drag him toward the door.
“Where’s Bo?” Noah asks, turning his full attention on Eric.
“They’re stabilizing him for the doctor, he’ll be on the road in five,” Jesse adds, pulling Bundy to the top of the stairs and I hear the thunk thunk thunk of him being pushed down them. “I’m jumping in the medic van with him, yeah?”
But Noah’s moved on, glaring at Eric with a deadly, cold expression. “Cover your ears, baby.” He shifts casually, and I pull back to let him adjust the sling on his chest so that he can raise a shotgun and obliterate Eric’s foot.
His scream sounds sweet, if only I was in the kind of headspace to enjoy it more. As it is, I just keep my ears squeezed shut and let him tug the throw blanket from the bed and wrap it around my shoulders, and it’s like getting permission to disappear.
Eric crumples to the floor, screaming as he stares wide-eyed at the foot that’s now blown wide. I wish he would be quiet. I hate that he’s here, that he’s anywhere near Noah.
My worlds are colliding too quickly and I press even harder against my ears, squeezing my eyes shut.
Now that Noah’s here, it’s like every emotion I had to hold back the last few days is land-sliding down on me at once, burning me.
All the panic, the terror, the pain and fury at being used without my consent.
The helplessness and frustration. It’s piling on top of me and I’m bending, caving in.
God, the pain is unbearable, and I press even harder as I fold forward til my head is tucked up against my knees to block out the noises of men filling the house, the hallway, my bedroom. The words muffle as Noah hands his gun to someone else with orders to bring Eric to the lockup.
And then he lifts me, finally, tucking my face into his neck as he carries me toward the staircase. There’s a fuzzy echo of activity in the background as I try to block out all sound and sight, my chest heaving with a confusing mixture of terror and relief.
It’s fracturing. My chest, my self. “Bo!” I call out, though I already know he’s not here anymore. Our separation feels like an uncauterized wound, and I’m free bleeding from the loss of him.
Noah grips me tighter to his chest, getting us down the stairs, his strong hand on the back of my head, cradling me closer. “Noah?” I ask again.
“It’s me, baby. Fuck, Emma.” His hood is up, face pressed to my hair when I hear the sound of a car door being thrown open and he slides us inside. I straddle his lap as the door is shut and the silence finally washes over us. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
Every muscle in my body screams from the effort of holding in my breakdown and his hands go to my face, lifting it until all I see are those whiskey eyes, red and broken. His own silent tears fall as his jaw tightens. His thumb brushes mine away, rubbing the wetness across my lips.
It’s painfully obvious he doesn’t know what to do with his, that he doesn’t even want me to see the weakness in him. But he eats up my face greedily, like having me here is the only thing that matters, and seeing this vulnerability in him centers me.
He’s here. He fucking came for us. I shudder, and his thumbs trail from my lips up my cheekbones. It’s him, his eyes on mine, not some piece of shit guard. It’s his hands touching me, comforting me. I’m covered, and I’m safe.
“Thank you.” The raspy words hurt from the ravaging strangle Eric had me in.
He shakes his head, licking his lips with that sadness still pinned on me, still petting my head absently like he needs to know I’m in his hands. “There’s nothing in this fucking world that would have stopped me from getting to you. You hear me? Not a single fucking thing.”
I drop my forehead to his. It’s all I have. He tightens the blanket around my shoulders and returns his large hand to the back of my head, holding me close until my tears run dry and our beating hearts slip back into sync with each other.