Chapter Twenty-One - Joshua
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Joshua
Blood covers the floor. Her blood.
All because of me.
I hate you, Joshua! Just kill me already and get it over with! Haven’t you tortured me enough?
I hate myself, too.
The anger that had me seeing red this morning has hardened into a sickening ball of grief.
I want to leave, tell Donovan to have one of the soldiers clean this mess, and pretend this day never happened, but I can’t.
Tripp may have held the whip, but Elise’s blood is on my hands.
Moments later, I have everything I need, and I stand before the red-smeared floor. My chest heaves with ragged breaths, and the metallic smell that has never bothered me before is suddenly unbearable, but I force myself to take it in.
I lower to my knees.
The towel is soaked after the first swipe across the floor, and my stomach turns. I can’t remember the last time I threw up, but I want to right now.
Every wipe of the towel brings with it a memory that stabs brutally at my chest.
Her stunning smile when she opened the door for me on our date.
Her lousy poker face during our dinner negotiations.
Her soft lips against mine under the starlit garden.
Her small, perfect body cradled against mine just last night.
She has no clue that I laid awake for hours wondering how I could keep her.
Make her stay.
Make her mine.
I drop the drenched towel into the bucket beside me and stare at my bloodstained hands that scream the truth I don’t want to face.
It can never happen now.
Any chance I had at redeeming myself in her eyes is gone. My anger and pride stole the only thing I’ve ever needed, and I have no one to blame but myself.
What I do have, however, is a deserving culprit to direct every ounce of this anger at.
Tripp isn’t just going to die for this. He is going to suffer in the cruelest ways imaginable until the whole world knows what will happen if they try to touch what’s mine.
But she isn’t mine.
And she never will be.
I stare at the floor, now absent of all evidence of today’s events. If only I could do the same to my mind.
To hers.
“Sir, the other capos are ready in the conference room.” Donovan’s voice breaks through my grief-induced haze, and I realize that I have no idea how long I’ve been kneeling here.
Not long enough.
I rise to my feet, the hundred-pound weight on my chest taking my breath away momentarily before I’m able to turn and face him.
Perfect composure is one of my strong suits, but if Donovan’s expression is any indication, I’ve lost my touch.
With a tight nod, I grab the cleaning supplies.
“I’ll have someone come to get those, Mr. Moreno.”
“Tell the others I’m on my way.” I pass him, working hard to get myself under control.
And failing.
When I get to my office and fall into my chair, I can barely think straight. The plans to leave are all worked out, and my capos are making the necessary preparations now, but I’m having difficulty focusing on anything outside of Elise.
I need to see her.
I stand, planning to do just that when a knock at the door stops me in my tracks.
I’m on my feet the second Ryder steps into the room.
“How is she?”
“Traumatized,” he practically spits the words in my direction.
“I meant physically,” I say through gritted teeth. “Is she okay?”
“Okay?” Ryder scoffs. “Of course, she’s not okay! She was tortured, assaulted, and almost raped!”
It’s the first time the words have been said out loud, and it feels like a punch to the gut.
“She was never supposed to get hurt.”
“Well, she was. Bad. She’ll have scars for the rest of her life because of this. Because of you,” he grates.
“Watch it,” I warn.
He ignores me.
“It’s not just her back, either. She has bruises on her face from where he slapped her, and her throat is raw from how much she screamed for help, but no one heard her because you banned everyone from the entire floor.”
My vision blurs with the force of my guilt as the images from today flood my brain. What’s worse is the mere thought of what I would’ve seen had I been only seconds later.
Ryder takes my silence for defeat. “You messed up.”
I snap to attention, stepping up to my right-hand man until we’re chest to chest and narrowing my eyes to dangerous slits.
“You think I don’t know that?” I shove him in the chest, taking another step forward. “I made a bad call, but you still work for me, and I will not tolerate your disrespect. Your only job right now is to protect Elise until she lets me protect her because I will fix this.”
My chest rises and falls with the force of my words, and for the first time since this morning, the hollow ache dulls, giving way to a fierce determination because I absolutely believe my words.
I will fix this.
I’ll earn Elise’s trust, but I won’t stop there.
I want all of her.
Mind, body, and soul.
Mine.
I will protect her, I will cherish her, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy.
Though Ryder’s anger is palpable, when he meets my eyes, the message there is clear—pull yourself together because Elise deserves that much.
I give Ryder a nod, and he clears his throat. “Yes, sir, it won’t happen again.”
This new sense of purpose eats away at the darkness that’s plagued me for hours. I feel like I can move again—like I can breathe again.
And the urge to see Elise is stronger than ever.
I barely reach the door before he’s calling after me, “Don’t do it.”
But I don’t even slow.
I expect Ryder to follow me, but he doesn’t. He must know that it’d be a wasted effort because nothing can stop me right now.
Even so, I know he’s right. I know that I shouldn’t go see her. I should give her space to think and heal after what happened, but I can’t.
My strides are purposeful, and I’m across the base in record time, grabbing a warm tray of food from Jay before I make my way to her room. I stop in my tracks when I reach her door.
She’s just inside, safe and sound. That should be enough to sate me.
But it isn’t.
Warmth spreads through my body as I open the door and take in the sight of her like I need to be near her to finally breathe.
She sits in the middle of the room, straddling a chair backward and facing the window. Her hair falls over her shoulders in thick waves, and she wears an oversized shirt that fully conceals the evidence of her attack.
Elise doesn’t move as I set the food tray on the table, and if it weren’t for her shaky breaths, I’d think she’d fallen asleep there.
“You should eat something.”
Nothing.
“How are you feeling?”
Nothing.
I can’t blame her for ignoring me, but it brings the weight of guilt back to my chest with the force of a hurricane. My hands twitch to touch her—to soothe her pain in any way I can—but that would only make things worse.
“You were never supposed to get hurt.”
The silence is expected this time, but it doesn’t sting any less.
After a long moment of Elise’s sniffles filling the room, I come to terms with the fact that she’s not ready to talk to or even see me yet.
Ryder was right. I shouldn’t have come.
“We’re leaving in a few hours,” I say as I approach the door.
Her head whips around at that, and my pathetic heart flutters at the idea of her wanting to see me, but her expression deflates my hopes.
“What? Why?” she croaks, and I painfully remember Ryder saying that her throat was sore from screaming. I’d hoped he was exaggerating, but he clearly wasn’t.
Even now, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. Her eyes are bloodshot and glossed over, her face splotchy and wet with tears.
A fallen angel.
But that’s not what tears my heart to shreds.
Elise’s lip trembles at the sight of me. She ever so slightly cowers into the chair, and her eyes plead with me to leave her alone.
I get lost in those watery eyes and completely forget that she asked me a question. I’m about to answer when she visibly sobers as the realization hits her.
We can’t stay here if her father has a plan to come for her.
It’s cruel of me to force this on her, too, but I don’t have a choice. I still have a job to do.
When she turns to face the window again, it’s as though the slow motion simultaneously rips my heart out of my chest, falling into the hands of its true owner.
For a moment, I wonder which one of us is the real prisoner.
I grip the door handle to stop myself from going to her and groveling for forgiveness. Only twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve thought I was above groveling, but I’d beg on my knees for hours if I thought it would make an ounce of difference.
I just know it won’t.
“Elise, I know you’re not ready to talk, but when you are, I’d really like the chance to explain.”
Nothing.
“I’ll have Ryder come and pack your things,” I say, leaving before I can drown in the silence.