Chapter Forty-Three
Annie
My body jerks violently as another tremor rips through me, dragging me out of the black, empty void where there is no music, no color, just nothing.
A voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, rough and impatient. “Acacia, wake the fuck up.”
My eyes snap open to find Loretta leaning over me, her hands gripping my shoulders as she shakes me hard enough to rattle my bones.
“Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters. “I didn’t think I hit you that hard.”
Before I can even process where I am, she yanks me out of the car, and my legs struggle to hold my weight as the world tilts sharply beneath me.
It takes a moment for my vision to adjust, for the shapes around me to make sense, and when they finally do, I realize we’re back at the goddamn park where we met.
The sky is just beginning to lighten, soft pinks and pale blues bleeding into streaks of gold, almost beautiful despite the horror unfolding beneath it.
A flicker of movement catches my eye, and the little bluebird flutters near my head again.
My head.
Fuck.
Pain crashes into me all at once. My skull pounds, my lip throbs, and my thumb sends sharp, unbearable pulses up my arm. A groan escapes me before I can stop it. “What are we doing?” I manage, my body swaying as I fight to stay upright.
“Your parents are on their way,” she replies, her tone far too calm.
Relief sparks briefly, until the image of Aston flashes through my mind, lying motionless on the floor with blood pooling beneath him.
Oh God, he has to be okay.
Loretta jerks me forward again, and I stumble after her, barely keeping pace as we move through the empty park. The early morning stillness makes everything feel eerie, like the world is holding its breath.
“Walk faster,” she snaps, tightening her grip.
I try, but my body isn’t cooperating. My foot catches, and before I can recover, I pitch forward, hitting the gravel hard. Pain scrapes across my face and legs as a broken sound leaves my throat.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Acacia,” she groans, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me upright.
I cry out as the sharp pull sends another wave of pain through my skull, the sudden movement making my stomach lurch violently. Saliva floods my mouth, and I double over, vomiting onto the ground beside her shoes.
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters in disgust. “You really can’t handle drugs, can you?” She drags me away from it, barely giving me time to breathe before pulling me toward the grass, where the softer ground feels almost soothing compared to the gravel.
We reach the bench beneath the oak tree, the same tree, and a shiver runs through me at the sight of it.
I fucking hate this tree.
She shoves me down onto the seat, and even sitting still doesn’t stop the world from spinning. As I try to steady myself, she reaches behind her waistband and pulls out a knife, the blade glinting in the early morning light. My eyes lock onto it instantly, and a cold dread settles deep in my gut.
Maybe she wasn’t joking after all.
“They won’t be long now,” she says, almost casually. “You’ll be back with your family, and I’ll have my million. See? Not so bad.”
The bluebird lands lightly on my shoulder, chirping as though none of this is real, and I find myself smiling faintly at it despite everything.
“Answer me!” she snaps.
I blink up at her, struggling to focus. “Sorry… what?”
She exhales sharply, clearly irritated, lifting her hand as though she’s about to strike again—
“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Mum’s voice cuts through everything.
My head jerks up, and behind Loretta I see them, Mum, Dad, and Aston. The relief that hits me is so strong it almost knocks me over.
He’s okay.
He’s actually okay.
Before I can fully react, Loretta drags me upright again, the knife now raised where they can see it, forcing them to slow as they approach.
“Annie, are you okay?” Aston calls, his voice tight with panic.
“I… I don’t know,” I answer honestly, my thoughts still slipping out of reach.
“If you’ve hurt her, I swear to God—” Aston starts, stepping forward.
Loretta yanks my hair, forcing me down to my knees, and I cry out as the blade presses against my throat, cold and sharp against my skin.
“Loretta, we have the money,” Dad says, his voice controlled but strained. “Just let her go.”
Mum is already crying, her gaze locked on me as though she’s afraid to blink.
“Give me the money,” Loretta jabs.
Dad throws the bag toward her, but she doesn’t move to pick it up. Instead, she presses the knife harder against my skin, and I freeze, barely daring to breathe.
“You have what you want,” Aston says, his voice low and deadly. “Now let. Her. Go!”
I glance at him, taking in the tension in his face, the way his jaw is clenched, the streak of dried blood in his hair, and my chest aches at the sight.
“I’d love to see you get to me before I open her up,” Loretta says with a smirk.
Aston moves.
Fast.
But the blade bites into my skin, and I scream as pain flares.
He stops immediately, hands raised in surrender. “Okay. Okay,” he says quickly. “Just let her go. You’ve got the money.”
“Open the bag,” she demands.
There’s a moment of hesitation before Aston looks back at Dad, who gives a small nod. Aston crouches, unzips the bag, and pulls out a thick wad of Monopoly money.
My stomach drops.
Oh God.
Loretta’s smile disappears.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, yanking me back against her hard enough that tears sting my eyes, and I cry out as she presses the knife closer to my throat. “I think I’ll stab her instead.”
“No!” Mum screams, her voice splintering across the clearing.
I don’t look at the knife.
I can’t.
My eyes find Aston’s instead, and everything else fades away.
The trees.
The morning breeze.
Mum crying.
Dad standing impossibly still.
It’s just him.
His face is pale, every muscle in his jaw locked so tightly I think he might shatter under the pressure of holding himself together. His eyes never leave mine, and for one impossible moment it feels like we’re the only two people left in the world.
I try to memorize him.
The way the early morning light catches in his hair.
The crease between his eyebrows whenever he’s worried.
The tiny scar beneath his chin that I used to trace with my fingertips when neither of us could sleep.
I love you. The words stay trapped inside my head.
My lips never get the chance to say them.
Aston’s gaze flickers, just for a fraction of a second, toward the trees beyond Loretta’s shoulder.
Confusion brushes against the drug-induced fog clouding my thoughts.
Then suddenly, three gunshots crack through the park so violently they seem to split the morning in half. I flinch instinctively, my eyes slam shut, and something warm splashes across my face.
Thick.
Wet.
My heart stops.
She stabbed me. The thought crashes into me before anything else can.
I wait for the pain.
Wait for the blade to sink into me.
Wait for everything to go dark, but it never comes.
Instead, Loretta’s grip vanishes so suddenly I stumble forward, my knees buckling beneath me after hours of being held against my will.
I catch myself with trembling hands, every muscle shaking violently as I stare at the blood dripping from my cheek onto the grass below.
Blood.
So much blood.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I slowly lift a shaking hand to my face, my fingertips coming away slick with crimson.
Mine?
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything.
The world has dissolved into muffled voices and ringing ears, my thoughts swimming too heavily beneath the cocaine to make sense of what just happened.
Then someone is running toward me.
Fast.
Boots pounding across the grass.
I lift my head.
Aston.
Relief hits so hard it steals what little air I have left.
He reaches me in seconds, dropping to his knees so abruptly the impact jars through the ground beneath us.
His hands find my face first, frantic, searching, wiping the blood from my cheek before his eyes sweep over the rest of me, checking for injuries, for wounds, for proof that he’s not already too late.
“Baby…” His voice breaks so completely it barely sounds like him. “Jesus Christ… Annie.”
I stare at him through blurred vision.
He’s here.
He’s really here.
The nightmare is over.
Something inside me finally gives way, and a sob tears out of my chest so violently it hurts, weeks of fear and pain crashing through every crack I’d been desperately trying to hold together.
My body folds toward him on instinct, and he catches me before I hit the ground, wrapping both arms around me so tightly it almost hurts.
I’ve never been so grateful for pain.
It means I’m alive.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against my hair, his own breathing as ragged as mine. His hands don’t stop moving, rubbing over my back, my shoulders, my face, as though he needs to convince himself I’m real. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Safe. The word feels impossible.
Like something that belongs to someone else.
I cling to him anyway, burying my face against his neck as the world around us erupts into shouting, footsteps, and voices calling orders I can’t quite understand.
None of it matters.
He’s here.
He came for me.
And somehow… somehow I’m still alive.
“You’re okay,” he repeats, his voice rough, almost unsteady. “I’ve got you.”
“I think I am,” I murmur. “There’s this little bird that won’t leave me alone. He’s kind of cute, though.” Dad’s eyes fill with tears as he looks at me, and something in my chest twists. “I’m okay, Dad. I didn’t have much, but the bugs…” I shudder slightly. “They were awful.”
He shakes his head, clearly trying to hold it together. “Even so, you’re going to the hospital.”
I glance down at my hand, really looking at it for the first time, and my stomach drops. My thumb sits at an unnatural angle, swollen, the bruising dark and angry against my skin.
“Shit, Annie,” Aston breathes, stepping in closer as he gently takes my hand, his expression tightening as he assesses the damage.
“It’s my guitar hand, Dad,” I say quietly.