Chapter 43
My body achesas I lay motionless on the floor. With my back toward Aidan and the men holding us both captive, I face the exterior, window-lined wall of the building. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and crushed beneath its weight. All of the aches and pains I had before—throbbing head, tender cheek, sore lip—are now joined by a sharp pain radiating between my legs and through my abdomen, a stinging sensation where my rapist cut my skin with his teeth, and finally, the tenderness of my flesh left in the wake of his harsh touch. I wish I could fall asleep so I could escape the pain and the mental anguish which rivals it. But each time I drift into unconsciousness, I quickly wake, knowing that at any moment he may come for me again or begin the other forms of torture he and his men have planned for me. There is no lasting escape. Even thinking of Damon and the life we could’ve had together has become too painful to imagine. Because the longer I spend in this decrepit warehouse, the less I believe I’ll ever step foot outside of it, the less I believe I’ll ever see Damon again, the less I believe I’ll survive this.
I find myself in the drifting stage now—the place between consciousness and unconsciousness. Since he discarded me, I’ve done my best to slow my breathing and not make any noticeable movements or noises. The last thing I want is to draw him back to me. But, as the sound of footsteps grows louder, I can sense him or one of the others coming toward me and I can’t help but to go rigid. Every muscle in my body clenches as I brace myself for what will come next. My eyes widen in horror. My breathing becomes shallow and quick. As the shadow of a man covers my body, my body shakes uncontrollably like it did before. And, like before, the man standing behind me laughs.
“Ready for round two, princess?” I shake my head and pinch my eyes closed. My mind is conflicted with what to do. Do I try to fight him off? Do I try to run? Do I just give in hoping he’ll go easier on me this time? I can’t decide and my body lets me know it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t fight or run, even if I wanted to.
As the man in the gray suit leans down and pulls me toward him so that I lie flat on my back beneath him, a fresh wave of fear and a blood-curdling scream builds in my chest. But before it can escape me, the windows to my left shatter into a million pieces, drawing his and everyone else’s attention.
I turn my back to the rainfall of glass and squeeze my eyes closed. Before I can even open them, I feel and hear the chaos surrounding me. I hear the men in the room yelling and running, but the sounds of them are quickly drowned out by that of several explosions. One after the other, the building shakes in response. They seem to come from every direction and are quickly accompanied by the much-closer sounds of gunfire. I jump in response and open my eyes. As adrenaline fills my veins, enough to chase away my paralyzing fear, I crawl toward the edge of the room to make sure I’m out of the line of fire. Glass cuts into my palms, knees, and shins, but I’m too focused to care.
Once I’m pressed up against the wall, I take in the scene before me to find seven figures dressed in what looks like black hazmat suits go after my captors. Bullets fly through the air as they take out the men in the room. I place my hands over my ears in response.
Everything happens so fast. The men here to save me and my brother take as many bullets as they fire. But their unusual suits protect them. The sight is extraordinary and yet nerve-racking all at once. Within seconds, bodies covered in blood lie motionless on the floor. Most are dead from gunshot wounds, but as more men flood in from the ends of the warehouse, the combat becomes closer and my saviors are forced to resort to using knives and their fists in addition to their guns.
I know one of these men is Damon and that thought fills me with hope and yet also anxiety. He and his men are heavily outnumbered, and through the open window casings, I can see flames rising outside. Black smoke billows in from below, and red and blue lights flash in the distance. Whatever they’re doing, they’re running out of time.
I move my hands to my nose to keep from inhaling the smoke. Sweat beads on my skin as the temperature in the room rises. I look to my right and find an exit separate from the main point of entry. But I don’t know who is on the other side of that door and I can’t leave without Damon.
As the smoke continues to fill the room, sudden movement from outside draws my attention. It’s there that I see a helicopter gliding through the rising flames and barrels of smoke. Sparks burst through the darkness as it fires bullets of its own toward the perimeter of the building. But, as my eyes widen in surprise, they also burn. This isn’t good.
As the smoke and heat from the flames begins to overtake me, I’m forced to lie down. Being this close to the ground gives me a moment of reprieve long enough to see the men in black begin to remove the restraints from my brother’s wrists and ankles. “Aidan,” I whisper, not to draw his attention, rather in acknowledgment. He’ll make it out. He’ll be okay.
As my eyes threaten to close, I find the man in the navy suit lying in a pool of his own blood in the center of the room. His eyes are still open. They display a look of horror similar to the one he and his men cast upon me. But the man who hurt me the most, he still breathes. Though only for a second. A man in black, a man I know to be Damon based on the tattoos on his hand, holds the man in gray up by his throat. He chokes him, like he threatened to choke me. He then throws him on the ground and stands over him just as he stood over me. The man in gray wears a look of defeat, knowing he’s met his end. I only wish he could have suffered more—the way he made me suffer, the way I will continue to suffer until I can find a way to rid myself of the marks of his touch and the memories of this horrific night. It’s then that Damon pulls a long, slender knife from one of his suit’s hidden pockets and slices through my rapist’s neck. The movement is so swift and strong it severs the man’s head from his body.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m not sure if it’s the smoke, the heat, my waning adrenaline, or simply knowing the man who hurt me is dead, but my eyes become too heavy to remain open. In the darkness, I finally find a reprieve from the pain. In the darkness, I find peace.