Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CATALINA
I grimaced to myself and pulled my bag up to my shoulder.
I'd managed to avoid the team since I got back to Opal Springs.
After Easton ate me out, he hurried off to his meeting.
Since then, I'd been skating at night, after the kids’ classes were finished.
So far, I hadn't seen them training once and I hadn't bumped into any of them around town.
Until now.
Shaw pushed into the rink as I was just about to head out. A bag over his shoulder suggested he was here to skate too.
He stopped to give me a glare.
Not that I owed him anything, but I pushed my bag further up my shoulder and said, "Don't worry, I'm moving back to Melbourne at the end of the week." That might head off any argument before it began. No doubt the rest of the team would know within the hour. Whatever, I didn't care if they did.
His jaw clenched. "That's for the best." He looked me up and down, but his expression didn't change; it still suggested he wished I'd never been born. Honestly, the feeling was mutual right now. As far as I was concerned, he could go fuck himself.
I was tempted to ask why he hated me so much, but what did it matter now?
In a few days, I'd be gone and focusing on training and the trials.
With any luck, by the time I returned to Opal Springs, the Ghouls would have their own arena and I could have this place to myself.
I wouldn't have to see them again, unless they had a pet that needed treatment.
If that was the case, they could take the animal to another vet if they had a problem with me.
I would never refuse an animal treatment, no matter who their human was.
The clinic would side with me if any of them decided to make any trouble. At least, I hoped they would.
"Right," I said instead. I stepped around him and headed out the door. I sensed his eyes on me until the glass door closed behind me. I resisted the urge to look back.
I walked across the darkened car park to my car.
When I arrived a few hours ago, it was full of family vehicles.
I’d had to park in the back corner furthest from the rink, and the lights.
I didn't mind the walk or how cold the night was.
I was warmed up from training. So much so, it was refreshing out here.
I unlocked my car and opened the back door to toss my bag in before closing it again with a thud.
I took a step to the driver's side door. I'd just reached for the handle when I was slammed face first into the side of my car.
Pain lanced through my cheekbone, forcing a cry from between my lips. My eyes filled with tears of pain and surprise. I hadn't even heard anyone come up behind me.
Rough fingers grabbed my hair, pulled me back and turned me around. He pushed me against the side of the car.
"What the—" I struggled and tried to pull away but I was held hard.
All I could make out was a long, lean figure, dressed in black. Male, judging by the height and physique. His face was covered, but it was too dark to make out what with. It could have been a ski mask, or a scarf wrapped several times around his head, leaving his eyes exposed.
That was all I registered before he drove his fist into my face.
I cried out again. My head spun. I crumpled to the hard ground beside my rear tyre. The knees of my leggings tore, gravel grazing my skin.
He dropped to his knees beside me and pounded his fist into my face again.
I threw up my arms to protect my head, and curled up as small as I could make myself. I tried to cry out for help, but I couldn't manage a sound other than grunts of pain as he punched me over and over.
My whole existence consisted of pain and terror. Every strike was harder and more agonising than the one before.
I was going to die. He was going to kill me right here beside my car, outside the ice rink.
My father and my sister were going to be devastated.
And my cat. Poor Lucifer wouldn't understand where I went.
I hoped Dad gave her lots of tuna. Why that was what went through my mind, I didn't know, but it did.
Finally, the punches stopped. I kept my arms firmly over my head, my eyes screwed shut. Had he left? I didn't think so. I sensed him close before I heard his ragged breathing. Puffing lightly from beating me.
"You shouldn't have come here," he growled softly. His voice was low, barely more than a harsh whisper. "You should have stayed away. Everyone would have been better off."
The gravel crunched under his shoes as he got to his feet. He kicked me a couple of times in the side before he stepped away.
I started to register relief that I was still alive, he was gone.
His footsteps returned.
Please no. No more. I curled up in a tighter ball.
"I'm going to make sure you never get in the way again."
Terror became blind panic. He was going to kill me. Murder me in cold blood right here, right now.
No, I couldn't let that happen. I had to do something. Fight back, run, something. I’d never given up on anything before, I wasn't going to start now.
I scrambled to my knees and started to crawl.
He leaned over and grabbed my ankle.
I kicked out, my shoe connecting with his leg.
"Fucking bitch." He let go of my ankle. I must have kicked him harder than I realised. Good. Next time I'd aim higher. Right in his balls.
I crawled faster, trying to reach the front of the car where I could lever myself to my feet. I considered rolling under the car, but he could find me there. I cursed myself for putting my phone in my bag instead of keeping it on me. I could have lain under the car and called the police.
"Now you want to leave." He struck something against the palm of his hand. It made a dull slap, again and again, deliberately ominous and threatening.
Don't let it get to you, I told myself. That's what he wants. For you to feel helpless. Cat Ryan is not helpless. If I ever needed to be strong in my life, I needed it now. If I was going to get out of this alive, I had to fight.
I glanced back to see him tapping the handle of a hammer against his opposite hand.
Shit.
I lunged around the side of the car and sat for a moment, trying to gather myself. He was playing with me now. Certain he had me. It was only a matter of time before he caught me and killed me.
I needed to get the hell out of here. Back to the rink or… Somewhere.
I turned around and knelt in front of the car, gripping on as best I could with shaking hands. Teeth gritted, I forced myself up.
Everything hurt. Blood trickled down my face. I thought my cheekbone might be broken. A couple of ribs too.
If I was going to get out of here alive, I needed to work through the pain.
My options were to give in and die, or ignore the agony until I could get to help.
Working through the pain from training was one thing, this was another.
Harder, but not impossible. I reminded myself of all the things I'd gone through in the last couple of years.
I hadn't let any of it defeat me and I wasn't going to let him do it either.
Be strong, I told myself.
I stood at the front of the car, my palms pressed against the cold metal. My legs trembled, weak as a newborn horse. I forced them to keep supporting my weight. They had to. I had no other choice.
He moved closer.
I took a step, but my vision went dark. I shook my head. If I couldn't run, then maybe help could come to me in time. I'd have to yell loud to be heard inside the rink. If anyone was left to hear me. I couldn't turn my head to see if the light was still on. I just had to hope like hell.
I tipped my head back and started to shout, "Fire!" That would get people's attention faster than calling for help. If there really was a fire, people would come running.
I barely got out the F when he lunged towards me and slammed his fist into my face. I cried out. Once again, I crumpled to the ground. I barely felt myself fall, until my hand grazed over the gravel and my shoulder hit with sharp agony.
My vision went darker still. The pain was starting to get the better of me. Despair took the place of determination, slowly, but steadily.
These would be my final moments.
I hadn’t thought much about my own death, but I never would have guessed it would come like this. Not in a fit of violent, angry darkness. Not with my blood seeping into the ground.
My cheek was pressed against the cold gravel, my shallow breath faintly misting the air in front of me. A visual reminder that I wasn't dead yet, but I soon would be.
I never should have returned to Opal Springs. Not after my injury, and not after seeing Felicia. I should have stayed in Melbourne. I was scared the Ghouls would take the rink away from me. That I wouldn't be able to skate here and get my fitness back for the trials.
And now, they were going to take a lot more than that away from me. My life. My future. I didn't know which one of them this was, but I had no doubt it was a member of the team.
I tried to think, to put the voice together with a name, but the only thought that ran through my head over and over was, "I'm so sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry." Nothing else was coherent, or made any sense. Just this one thought.
I wanted nothing more than my father's arms around me right now.
If he was here, he'd make things right. Somehow.
He always made things right, no matter how bad I thought they were.
No one could kiss my bumps and bruises better, or chase away nightmares like he could.
It was a long time since he'd done either of those things, but if he was here, he'd do them now.
He wasn't here. He was at home, probably watching some kind of reality TV beside the fire. Was Lucifer on his lap, purring her head off? He loved it when she did that. Loved to stroke her fur while she curled up, sharing his warmth.
"I'm sorry, Daddy." Did I say that out loud, or just in my head? I didn't know. I didn't think it passed my lips. The only sounds coming out of my mouth were groans of pain and the occasional agonised breath.
I didn't know how many times I thought that before my attacker knelt down beside me again.
"Now you can stay out of our way." That was the last thing I heard before he slammed the hammer down onto my leg.
I screamed in pain and the whole world went black.