Chapter 27
Markus walks through the door of my home with a confident stride. He takes out his gun, gently resting it at his side, a display of power to show who has the upper hand. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding, in this shitty little cabin.”
This cabin is beautiful. Perfectly imperfect. Just like me. But he will never understand that.
He stops near the kitchen counter, pointing to a bag of marshmallows. “You know you’re not allowed to have these.” He chucks the bag across the room. “You’re such a child.”
I shudder at his violent nature and the tone in his voice, unable to meet his eyes. He never allowed me to have them or anything too sweet, for fear I would gain weight, and he wouldn’t allow the embarrassment of living with a fat wife. Because that’s the kind of asshole he truly is.
He stalks across the floor, taking in the rest of the open room, pushing things over just to be an ass. To insert his dominance. “You change your name,” he pushes over a Christmas decoration. “You change your address,” he kicks over my end table, and a glass vase shatters onto the floor.
My handgun is still in my purse, sitting near the front door. I’m not sure if I can get to it, but I have to try. With careful steps, I move towards it.
My phone vibrates, and I pause, slowly reaching for it with shaking hands. If I can just get to it before Markus sees, maybe I can…
“Do you like living a lie, Emma?” His vicious gaze tears through me, and I stop my reach.
He picks up a T-shirt off the couch, crumpling the fabric in his hands before bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “I missed this smell.”
My stomach churns, feeling as if I’ve drunk stale milk.
He drops the shirt to the floor, stalking towards me. “All the pretty things I’ve given you, and this is what you chose,” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense to me.” His hands go to either side of my face. I suck in a breath, closing my eyes. “Open your eyes,” he commands.
Salty tears stain my cheeks as I unwillingly open them. His dark eyes tear into mine, and then he kisses me. My lips feel cemented together as the wetness of his pushes into them.
“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” His hot breath pulsates on my mouth, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. “Do you know just how much I missed you? I gave you everything, Emma. Why wasn’t it enough?”
I hate that name. I wish he would stop saying it.
“You—you hurt me,” my words scrape from my throat. He hurt me, and what little he offered will never be enough. I stopped loving him a long time ago.
The bastard has the audacity to smile, like he’s pleased that he did. An abuser through and through.
“Only because I love you, Emma. You know my love for you makes me crazy. You make me crazy,” he runs a finger down my lips.
“No,” I shake my head, body trembling beneath me as I try to make some space between us. “No, you don’t love me.” He didn’t know what love was.
Love shouldn’t hurt.
He squeezes my face harder, digging his fingers into my skull. “I haven’t stopped searching for you since you abandoned me. If that isn’t love, then what is?”
Not this.
Love is kindness, breakfast in the mornings, holding each other close when the voices get too loud. Love is dates on the mountain to watch the sunset. Love is soft, caring, and safe. All the things that Kit taught me.
“Now, grab your things. We’re going home.”
My feet feel frozen. My heart pounds to the point of pain. I’m surprised it hasn’t burst through my ribcage.
“Did you not hear me? Grab your shit, Emma.”
I recoil at his tone, levelling my eyes at him. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said… no,” I plant my feet firmly. I’m not leaving. I’m not going to go quietly.
Not this time.
He slaps me hard across the face. It burns so badly that I’m positive he’s left an imprint of his hand on my cheek. My head dizzies at the impact, throbbing from the pain.
“Now!” he commands, pointing to my bedroom.
I stagger away, holding my throbbing cheek. I make it to my bedroom door when the sound of his dark laugh stops me. What would he be laughing about?
He smiles at me from the living room, showing his teeth, and I’m fucking terrified. “You always were a dirty whore, weren’t you, Emma?”
“What are you talking about?”
He grabs a newspaper from the coffee table, holding up my bright pink vibrator. My body goes cold at the rage in his expression. Why didn’t I hide it the day I came to pack for Kit’s house?
I think some part of me found it funny… back then, at least. But right now, it’s not funny at all. There’s no hiding things from him now.
Anger seeps out of Markus as if at any moment he’s going to explode, his fists clench, and his voice shakes. “Is this why you ran away? To be a goddamn whore!”
“I’m not a whore,” I whisper with trembling hands.
He slams down the newspaper and vibrator, stalking towards me. “You’re a fucking liar,” he spits.
He goes to strike again, but I step back, hitting the wall. “Please, Markus,” I beg. My phone vibrates again, sounding louder as it collides against the wall.
He pauses, pulling his hand back to wipe the spit from his mouth. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Give me your phone.”
“No.” There’s only one person who would be calling me, and if Markus sees his name—No, I couldn’t let him have it.
He scowls, reaching for it. I push back, fighting against his hold, but as soon as he lifts the gun, digging it into my ribs, my hands rise instinctively. I’m helpless with the gun in his hand, and he knows it.
He shoves his hand into my back pocket, forcing it from me. The name Cowboy lights up across the screen. Again, again, and again. Constantly trying to call me.
Markus’s eyes darken, sucking up all the oxygen in my lungs.
“Markus, please—” I try to reason with him, but he looks like he’s going to kill me. A tear slides down my cheek.
“Well, well.” He crushes my phone under his boot, snapping it in half with a loud crunching sound. “Looks like I was right all along. It’s time to teach you a lesson about infidelity, Emma.”
My eyes widen. “Markus—”
“Take off your sweatshirt,” he orders.
His words hit me. Stun me. I know exactly what he’s about to do. “Please, don’t—”
“Now!” He shoves me from the wall, pushing me into the center of the living room.
My hands shake. My body convulses as I remove my hoodie, leaving me in a T-shirt.
He waves the gun. “Now the other.”
“No, please—”
He stalks towards me, grabbing my arm. I try to break away, begging for him to stop. In frustration, Markus grabs a handful of my hair, shoving me down onto the floor. Resting his weight on the center of my body.
I struggle beneath him, but I can’t move.
The sound of a lighter flicking, followed by the smell of a cigarette, sends my body into a panic. “No, no, no. Markus, please! Please don’t—” I start to scream.
“Shut up!” He slams my head into the floor so hard that I feel it in my spine. “This is what happens when you disobey me, Emma. You want to run away and fuck cowboys?”
The feel of cold steel presses against my skin as Markus pulls out a pocketknife and cuts off my T-shirt, leaving me in a blue bra.
“This is your punishment for your behavior. You’re mine, Emma.”
Fear jolts my body with adrenaline. I try to scramble beneath him, kicking my feet. But it’s useless. “Please, don’t—PLEASE—” The feel of burning skin cuts off my words. I scream so loud my throat strains from the pressure. I can’t form words.
I can’t think about anything but the pain.
The door bursts open, and Kit comes barreling through, letting in a cold chill, but not as cold as the ice in his deep voice. “Get your fucking hands off her!” He shoves Markus off me with force, reaching for me.
Markus points his gun straight at Kit’s chest. “Back up!”
“No, please!” I gasp, reaching for the gun, trying to rise from the ground. “Markus, please let him—”
“Shut up!” Markus yells at me.
“Let her go,” Kit warns.
“Back up now, or I’ll shoot,” he counters.
A muscle ticks in Kit’s jaw, and he takes a step back.
With the gun still pointed at Kit’s chest, Markus pulls me to my feet. “Kit, run—” I start to say before Markus’s fingers wrap around my throat.
“I’m assuming you’re the cowboy that’s been fucking my wife,” Markus insinuates, squeezing harder.
“There’s only one person who’s allowed to call me that, and it sure as hell ain’t you. Now get your fucking hands off her. I will not ask you again.” I don’t know how Kit’s voice is so calm, so steady.
Markus laughs. “What are you going to do about it, country boy? She’s my property.”
“You’ve got about a minute before the other cowboys on this ranch bury you in the ground. You don’t have time to argue with me,” his voice airs with confidence.
Markus lowers his voice with authority. “I’m a police officer. You touch me, and I’ll throw you in prison.” A fact that kept me from reporting him for years. No one believed me anyway. Or if they did, no one tried to do anything about it. Or maybe they were too scared.
The floor creaks as Kit dares a step closer. Markus’s grip tightens around my throat. My eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars dancing around in my eyelids.
“You forget where you are,” Kit says calmly. “I own 200,000 acres of untouched land. People get lost out here. If something happened to you, they’d never find the body.”
“Are you threatening me?” Markus’s shaky voice reveals the unease at Kit’s threat.
“Believe me, if I were threatening you, you’d know it.” By the saccharine tone of his voice, I imagine he’s smiling at him, but my vision is too blurry to tell.
My nails dig into Markus’s forearm, trying to loosen his hold, but I can’t breathe. Panic settles in. I try to speak, but only choking sounds come out.
I can’t breathe.
“Now, stop fucking choking her, and leave,” Kit gruffs.
“I’m not leaving without her,” Markus snaps.
I’m going to pass out. I’m going to—
“Fine. Take her,” Kit seethes through clenched teeth.
What? My heart sinks.
Markus releases his grip, and I gasp, choking on the air that now runs freely through me. He wraps an arm around my torso, keeping the gun steady on Kit.