CHAPTER 40
Anna
Daniel's menacing chuckle echoed in my ear, so close I could feel his hot breath against my skin. The knife had just finished its slow, torturous path along my arm, and then suddenly without warning, he ripped the tape covering my mouth off in one violent motion.
The pain was immediate and sharp, but nothing compared to what I already felt.
Warm, sticky blood trickled down my skin from the fresh cut he'd inflicted, joining the other trails of crimson seeping from wounds scattered across my legs, stomach, and chest, a roadmap of his cruelty carved into my body.
Don't break. Don't give him what he wants.
Despite the pain and the fear that threatened to drown me, I refused to break. I clung desperately to my resolve, to the tiny spark of defiance that was all I had left.
Anger surged through my veins, temporarily overtaking the terror gripping my heart.
I hated this. Hated the way Daniel made me feel weak and helpless, especially after I'd fought so hard to overcome my past and find happiness.
After everything I'd survived, everything I'd built and here I was, right back in hell. I had to fight.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it already, Daniel," I seethed, my voice dripping with venom and defiance, despite the tremor I couldn't quite hide.
"Oh, Anna..." Daniel whispered, his lips brushing against my neck in a mockery of intimacy that made my stomach turn.
I flinched violently, turning my head away in disgust. Every place he touched felt contaminated, violated.
"I can't do that until you're ready," he continued, his voice sickeningly tender. "You need to cry. The next time you ask me to kill you, you're going to be begging for it."
I'll never beg you for anything.
He rose from the bed, his movements deliberate and unsettling. I watched with growing dread as he began to undo the belt holding his jeans in place, my eyes widening despite my attempt to maintain a false bravado. A wave of internal panic washed over me.
For a horrifying moment, I thought he was going to hit me with it, and I braced myself for the impact, my muscles tensing uselessly against the restraints.
Instead, Daniel crouched back down beside me, a cruel glint in his eye. The look he got when he'd thought of something particularly sadistic. He slid the belt underneath my neck, and I felt the leather cold against my skin before he looped it around and pulled it taut.
The pressure was immediate. The leather bit into my skin, cutting off my air supply completely. I strained uselessly against the ropes, my chest tightening. I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen that wouldn't come. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
"This is what it felt like when you left, Anna," Daniel told me, his voice cold and unforgiving, like he was the victim here. "This is how it felt every time I thought I was close, but then you escaped me."
A desperate, hateful thought clawed at the back of my mind: Good. I hope it hurt. I hope it destroyed you.
He tightened his grip on the belt, increasing the pressure until the spots dancing before my eyes multiplied, spreading like ink across my vision. My face felt hot, swollen, like it might burst. Everything turned red, then gray, then—
Just when I thought I might pass out, when the darkness was closing in completely, Daniel loosened the belt.
Air rushed into my lungs in a painful, desperate gasp.
I coughed and sputtered, my chest heaving as I tried to fill my lungs, the rush of oxygen both a relief and a painful reminder that he controlled even this: whether I lived or died, whether I breathed or suffocated.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously, determined not to give Daniel the satisfaction of seeing me break.
Don't you dare cry. I focused on my anger, on the rage simmering beneath the surface, using it as a shield against the pain and fear.
I focused on Jaxon. He had to be looking for me by now, right?
Even as I clung to that anger, to that hope, I could feel my resolve beginning to waver.
The physical and emotional torture was taking its toll, wearing me down bit by bit like sandpaper against stone.
I knew Daniel wouldn't stop until he had broken me completely, until he had reduced me to nothing.
No. I survived months of this before. I can survive now. I just have to—
The echo of Daniel's hand meeting my face reverberated through the room, the sound arriving before the pain registered. My head snapped to the side from the force, and I tasted copper.
He gripped my jaw roughly, his fingers digging into my bruised skin as he forced me to look at him. The knife appeared again, tracing along my body with deliberate slowness. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth from where my teeth had cut into my cheek from the impact.
I realized with sudden clarity that I needed to fight back. I needed to do something.
As the knife grazed my bare stomach, a surge of defiance rose within me like a tidal wave. I gathered the blood pooling in my mouth and spat it directly into Daniel's face, challenging him with my eyes.
Daniel's shock lasted only a heartbeat before morphing into terrifying rage. His face contorted into something monstrous, and the knife—
The knife sliced deeper into my skin, far deeper than before.
I cried out. I couldn't help it. The sound tore from my throat, primal and agonized, before Daniel dropped the knife and wrapped both hands around my neck, squeezing tightly to silence me.
No air. I couldn't breathe again.
"You bitch," Daniel seethed, his words punctuated by flecks of spit hitting my face.
His grip tightened, and my world narrowed to the cruel, unhinged look in his eyes.
Pure hatred mixed with satisfaction. "You want to die, Anna?
Fine. I'll kill you now, and then I'll go find your friends and take my anger out on them.
Just know as you die that it's your fault they're going to suffer. "
No. Please, not them.
As Daniel's rant ended, his hands clamped down even harder, cutting off my air supply completely. My body instinctively bucked and flailed, a desperate attempt to draw breath, but my movements were weak, ineffective against the ropes still binding my limbs.
Daniel's strength was unyielding, fueled by his twisted determination to destroy me.
A profound sense of finality washed over me. I was going to die here.
The edges of my vision darkened, tunneling down to just Daniel's face looming over me. My struggles grew weaker as oxygen deprivation took hold. My lungs burned like fire.
In that moment, as consciousness began to slip away, a profound sense of resignation washed over me. With it came the release of the tears I'd been holding back, salty drops streaming down my face, hot against my cold skin.
My final thought was for the man I loved. For the man who didn’t know I loved him. I’d die never having had the chance to tell him.
Through the haze of pain and fading consciousness, I saw the sick satisfaction in Daniel's eyes, reveling in my suffering, in finally breaking me. At least it would be over. At least he couldn't hurt me anymore after this.
Just as I felt myself slipping away, just as the darkness was almost complete, a shadow appeared in the doorway.
At first, I thought it was a hallucination, my oxygen-starved brain conjuring a final mercy. The shadow took on a familiar shape: tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable even in silhouette.
Jaxon.
Despite the dire circumstances, despite the fact that I was dying, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. If this was to be my last moment, I would rather it be filled with the image of Jaxon than the cruel visage of my tormentor.
Suddenly, the pressure around my neck vanished.
Air rushed into my lungs in a painful, gasping wheeze. The sound of a violent struggle filled the room. Grunts, the crash of bodies hitting furniture, the thud of fists on flesh.
I gulped in precious air, my lungs burning as they expanded. Each breath was agonizing but wonderful. I was still on the verge of losing consciousness, black spots dancing in my vision, yet I managed to turn my head.
My eyes widened at the scene unfolding beside the bed.
Jaxon had come. He had found me.
The realization hit like a bolt of lightning, a surge of hope and relief tearing through my battered body with such intensity it almost hurt. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched as Jaxon and Daniel grappled on the floor, fists flying, bodies slamming against furniture.
"Jax—" I tried to call out, wanting to warn him, to help somehow, but my voice was barely audible, my throat too damaged from being strangled.
But it was enough.
Jaxon's head snapped up, his eyes locking with mine for a fleeting moment. In that instant, I saw everything—love, fear, fury, determination. It gave me strength I didn't know I had left.
But that brief distraction was all Daniel needed. He shoved Jaxon away and lunged for the knife on the bedside table, his fingers wrapping around the handle.
The fight exploded with renewed intensity, the two men locked in a desperate struggle.
My heart raced as I watched, my breath catching with every blow exchanged.
Even in my weakened state, I could see the difference in their motivations.
Daniel was driven by crazed, destructive rage, while Jaxon fought with single-minded determination to protect me.
Daniel slashed the knife toward Jaxon in a vicious arc. Jaxon blocked the attack, grabbing Daniel's wrist and twisting him away, struggling to dislodge the weapon while gripping his other arm. They strained against each other with everything they had. Jaxon needed to get the knife.
As the struggle escalated, my mind raced with terrifying outcomes. I prayed silently, begging any higher power listening to give Jaxon the strength to prevail, to save us from this nightmare.