Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
VANNA
When the door opened to the apartment, I barely looked up from my sketchpad. It was about time he got back from the clubhouse.
“Hello, little pet.”
I froze. My pencil hovering just above the page, my artwork long since forgotten.
My heart hammered in my chest.
Panic swirled deep in my gut.
How did he find me?
“Not going to look at me?”
His voice was tinged with anger, probably because I hadn’t put it together that it had been him leaving me the presents, or vandalising my shop. I should have.
He’d always been so mad that I was connected to the club.
Slowly, I looked up at my tormentor.
Larsen.
Ever since I fake dated his brother to help him out, he’d been obsessed with the idea of me. One date and I knew immediately we weren’t ever going to be anything but that hadn’t deterred him. He’d repeatedly asked me out, followed me, broken into my apartment and left notes.
Only when I had Ethan intervene had he stopped. About four months later, that’s when the presents had started to show up. Then the vandalism.
I should have known.
I just had hoped that he’d gotten over it. There had never been anything between us.
“Larsen.”
“Oh, she does remember.”
“Of course I remember you,” I said, hoping my tone didn’t convey how terrified I was. “How did you find me here?”
“You think hiding away in your little boyfriend’s apartment was going to stop me from finding you, pet?”
“Larsen, I was clear with you the last time. I’m not your pet. Things aren’t going to work out between us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s simple really. I want you, and I’ll do anything to have you.”
“I’m not something to be collected, Larsen. I’m a human being.”
He didn’t speak, his head cocked to the side as if he were measuring what my next move was going to be. Even with the blood rushing through my veins, making sound hard to come by, I thought of where my phone was.
Of course I’d left it in the bedroom. With only Devil to call, there was no point in keeping it on me.
Fuck.
No one at the club knew about Ethan or Larsen, so I probably wasn’t going to have some miracle rescue. I had to think straight to get out of this.
“Larsen…”
“Come here, pet.”
I hesitated. Coming closer would mean he could hold me, he could touch me and maybe just maybe he would hurt me.
Larsen was dangerous when he was in one of his moods, and by looking at him, he was definitely in one of his moods.
“Larsen.”
“I’m not going to ask again, pet. Come. Here.”
I slid off the kitchen stool and put one foot in front of the other, making my way toward him, watching for any sudden movements that told me I would be walking into trouble.
He didn’t move, but he clocked every move I made. My heart raced as I neared the hallway. If I could run fast enough, I could get to the bedroom and call Devil.
What would Devil do if he found Larsen in his apartment?
A tiny little, insane thought popped up that he’d kill him without hesitation and some part of me wanted that, and yet, another part of me thought that was crazy to think.
I shouldn’t want someone to die because he was obsessed with me.
Maybe there was something wrong with me.
“Don’t even think about it,” Larsen said. “I can see your little brain working overtime. Don’t try anything stupid.”
I could feel my body hum with nervous excitement. If I went to him, he could drag me out of the apartment and away from Devil. If I ran, he could hurt me, but at least it could delay him leaving with me until Devil got home.
I felt the hot burn of unshed tears in my eyes as I faced my fear. Even being a club princess, and being surrounded by the bad shit that came with the club, I was still scared.
Scared of losing my freedom. Losing myself to a man who was obsessed and had no idea who I was as a person.
I was scared of losing my shop. My business.
But most of all, I was scared of losing Devil.
My Noah.
Suddenly, I felt the moment.
The moment he had relaxed enough, thinking I wouldn’t try anything. His posture softened, his smile turning up rather than the sharp intensity of his lips before.
Turning, I ran down the hall. Larsen’s grunt of displeasure was sharp in the air as I frantically ran.
I could hear his footsteps thundering down the hall after me.
I got to the doorway, my phone coming into view.
Just as I pushed through the door, I felt his hand reach out and grab my forearm, fingers pulling tight, causing a sharp pain to shoot up my arm. I cried out, turning to shove him back.
Shoving as hard as I could, he stumbled back and I felt my arm free from his grasp.
I turned my back to him again, and ran toward the phone.
I was so close, but then I felt myself falling.
My hands came out to break the fall to the ground.
The heels of my palms slamming into the floorboards, sending a shooting pain up my arms. The breath left me sharply, forcing me to suck in a deep breath, before I felt his fingers wrap around my ankle and pull me back.
I slid across the floor boards, trying desperately to hold onto something.
Nails skimmed over the flat boards, scoring the floor, but nothing could stop this maniac from dragging me toward the door.
I grabbed onto the corner of the hallway, in the spare room entry, which halted him for a moment.
He held onto my ankle, yanking hard. I could feel my skin burning where his hand twisted to try and get a better grip, but I didn’t let go.
Screaming out for help, even though I knew no one would probably hear me.
Tears ran down my cheeks freely now as I did everything I could to kick him away. All my self defense training was useless. Not one thing I’d learned was coming to the forefront of my mind.
I was frozen.
Awaiting a fate that I could only feel absolute dread for.
“Noah…” I cried out, as if that would save me.
“Who the fuck is Noah?” I heard him all but scream at me.
Then, the telltale groan of someone being manhandled, followed by a familiar, “I am.”
Larsen’s hand was gone from my ankle, leaving in its wake the ghost of pain shooting up my calf muscle. I turned to see Devil with his hand around Larsen’s throat, and his face scrunched up in pure anger.
My heart beat frantically in my chest, as I watched Devil slam Larsen against the wall, as if he was nothing more than a rag doll.
“Vanna,” I heard a voice beside me but my eyes were glued on the sight in front of me. Larsen was limp, his head lolling to the side as Devil squeezed his throat. “Vanna!”
I turned to see my brother crouching beside me, his eyes searching mine, looking for any injuries.
“Vinny?”
“Yeah, sis, it’s me. You okay?”
I turned back to Devil, to see him produce a blade and flash it in front of Larsen. A thrill shot through me to think he was going to kill my tormentor.
“Vanna…look at me…listen…are you hurt?”
I turned back to my brother. “No…I don’t know…”
“Come on…”
“No,” I said, firmly. “I need to…I need to see this.”
Vice turned behind him and that’s when Devil saw me. Taking in my face, tears streaking down my cheeks. I saw a new cold fury line his eyes as he saw my condition.
He turned back to Larsen, who looked like he was turning purple with the lack of air getting to his lungs.
“Finish him,” Vice said from beside me.
I could only watch on as Devil did just that. He landed punch after punch into Larsen’s side. Blood collected in Larsen’s mouth with every sickening punch to his sides. Blood was streaming down his chin and onto his chest.
Devil pulled his blade up again and slid it in under his rib cage. Larsen groaned painfully, blood now falling to the floor next to their feet. My heart was fluttering frantically in my chest.
“Help me up,” I said to Vice. He did, holding onto my hand and supporting my back with his other arm.
I stumbled forward, my ankle throbbing painfully with every move.
Devil’s head swung to the side. I saw the blood splatter on his chest, and the side of his face, his eyes wild and untamed. Animalistic.
Carnal.
Mine.
Devil pulled back from Larsen, letting him fall to the ground with a sickening thud. He wasn’t dead.
Not yet. I could see his chest rising and falling, his breathing getting weaker.
“Noah…”
He looked down at my hand reaching out for the blade. He hesitated, but eventually, he took hold of me from Vice and helped me to stand over Larsen.
The man who tried to take me.
The one who had vandalised my shop.
Who had tried to hurt me.
Falling to my knees, Devil fell with me, kneeling beside me as I raised the blade and lifted it over his chest.
“You don’t have to do this,” I heard my brother say as he came to stand beside me. “We can take care of this for you.”
“No,” I said, firmly, my eyes on Larsen as I saw the glossy orbs peer back at me. “I need to end this.”
“Here,” Devil said, guiding my hands, both now clasped over the hilt of the blade, toward an area on Larsen’s chest. “Strike down as hard as you can.”
I turned back to face my tormentor. “Fuck. You.”
My voice came out shaky, the emotions overpowering me as I shoved the blade down as hard as I could. It went through his chest easier than I thought it would. He spluttered violently around the blade. Devil pulled my hands back and held them in his, but he made no attempt to move us.
He knew I needed to see this.
Finally, Larsen took his last breath and I watched the life leach from his bloodied and bruised body, right here on the living room floor.
It was done.
I did it.
I took his life.
And as I looked up at my brother, and then at Devil, I knew they hadn’t shied away from it. They’d let me do it because they knew.
They knew I had needed to do it.