28. Zoey
ZOEY
I smiled at the receptionist of the spa as I paid for the day’s indulgences. My hands were soft from the lotions, and my back was less knotted than it had been in months.
“Take care,” she told me with a bright smile.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling my jacket tighter around me. The sky outside was gray, matching the muddle of thoughts in my head. Heather had been right when she’d suggested the massage, the manicure, the temporary escape. “Just be kind to yourself,” she had said. And for a few hours, I listened.
But as I drove through the familiar streets, all the relaxation fled from my mind. My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Noah and how he seemed to see straight through to my battered heart. I hated how our last encounter had ended, hated that I’d caused the pain I’d seen flashing across his face.
“Better me than George,” I said. At least the wounds I’d inflicted could heal. If George got to Noah... I shuddered at the thought, quickening my pace. Noah didn’t deserve the crossfire he’d found himself in, and it was all because of me.
As I brought my car to a stop in front of Heather’s house, my stomach stopped when I saw the car parked outside. I knew that expensive Jaguar. It belonged to George. He couldn’t be here, at Heather’s house.
Oh, God. Ro!
I jumped out of my car, leaving my keys in the ignition, and ran up the sidewalk.
The door creaked as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla greeting me. It was usually a comforting smell, but today it did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I stepped into Heather’s living room and froze.
George sat there on the couch, looking like a king sitting on a throne of fear and violence. Heather was slumped in the corner, her hands bound, her head lolling to one side. Ro was hunched in the armchair, eyes wide with terror, his small frame shaking.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. Inside, I was shaking.
“Zoey,” George said, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Your tone when we spoke… it didn’t sit right with me.” His gaze flicked over to Heather, then back to me. “You sounded almost... defiant.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my face impassive. “Defiant?” I echoed, though it felt like I was speaking from miles away.
“Yes,” he said, standing up to his full, imposing height. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that backbone of yours. I must admit, I like it.”
His grin stretched across his face, but it wasn’t pleasant. My stomach turned. I’d seen that smile before. It promised pain.
“George, you need to leave,” I said firmly, but inside I was a mess of nerves, each word an effort not to let the bile rise up my throat.
He smiled at me again, that same chilling smile devoid of warmth and sincerity. “I’ll leave,” he said slowly, “but you and Ro are coming with me. You’ve had your little rebellion. Now it’s time to come home.”
“Home?” I spat. “There’s no home with you.”
He stood, a deliberate motion that was more threat than act, and stalked towards me. I could feel Ro’s fearful gaze on my back. I took a step in retreat, trying to keep space between us, trying to think through the panic that clawed at the edges of my mind.
“Stop playing games, Zoey.” George’s fingers were inches from my arm.
Something within me snapped to life. Instinct took over. The self-defense classes weren’t just distant memories anymore. I sidestepped his grasp, twisted his wrist away, and pushed him back hard. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to put me between him and Ro.
“Leave us alone,” I managed to say, heart pounding, praying that whatever courage had found me would last just a little longer.
His laugh was a low rumble in the silence that followed my defiance. “Oh, Zoey.” His tone dripped with false pity as he reached inside his jacket.
My breath caught in my throat when the glint of metal revealed itself.
“Here’s the deal,” he stated, pointing the gun at me with a steady hand. “You’re going to come with me now, or I’ll shoot you in the leg.” His lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “Your choice. Either way, you’re leaving with me. On one leg or two, I don’t care.”
I stood frozen, cold dread seeping into my bones. The knowledge of Ro’s presence behind me was my only comfort, his fear a silent whisper in the tension-filled room.
Suddenly, Ro let out a low growl, his shifter instincts responding to the threat before us.
George’s chuckle sliced through the air. “Is that supposed to scare me, pup? You think you can protect her?”
Before I could respond, a deep, thunderous roar erupted from the woods outside. So powerful, it vibrated through the walls.
George’s expression flickered with the first sign of uncertainty, his attention darting toward the window, the gun wavering for just a second.
“Fuck,” George said, the curse slicing through the eerie silence. His hand shifted, the gun’s aim veering from me to Heather. “Don’t test me, Zoey.”
“George, please!” My voice cracked as I stepped toward him, palms outstretched, pleading. “Don’t do this.”
“Shut up.” The cold steel of his gaze locked onto mine. “Get the kid, and get in the car. Or I put a bullet in her head.”
Heather’s eyes met mine, green flames of defiance burning bright even at gunpoint. But my heart hammered against my ribs, raw terror for her life strangling any words I might have said.
“Okay,” I gasped out, every fiber in my body screaming against the decision. “Okay, I’ll go with you. But leave Ro here. Please.”
“No!” Ro’s shout of protest was a thunderclap. “Mom, you can’t let?—”
“Be quiet, Ro!” I turned, trying to silence him with a look.
But my son shook his head fiercely, stepping closer. “I have to protect you, like Noah would. I won’t let him take you.”
“Didn’t I already tell you to mind your fucking manners? I make the rules. Now get in the fucking car,” George snarled, the gun swinging back to point at Heather.
Taking hold of Ro’s arm, he marched him toward the car. “Don’t say that fucker’s name, do you understand me, boy? I’ll teach you to mind me.”
I watched as George pushed my son into the back of his car.
My heart pounded, my hands slick with cold sweat as I tried to pull my phone out of my jacket pocket.
It clattered to the ground. I dived for the back door of George’s car to get Ro out.
George was right behind me, his footsteps a menacing echo on the sidewalk. He grabbed my hair and pulled me back.
I screamed and clawed at him as he tried to push me into the car, but I fought with every fiber of my being.
Before George could get me into the car, a guttural roar split the air. A massive beast, muscles rippling beneath its fur, charged around the corner of the house.
Noah.
The sight of him, so fierce and powerful, sent a jolt of hope through me.
“Noah!” I screamed, trying to warn him as he bore down on George. “Gun!”
The sound of gunfire tore through the roar, a sharp crack that made my blood run cold.
Noah hit the ground. Blood seeped from the wound in his stomach.
George jumped into the car and pulled out onto the road.
Ro’s face, white with fear, stared at me from the back window.
“Ro!” I screamed, and kept on screaming.