61
WESLEY
Damian and I sit in the back of the police cruiser, speeding down the highway. My mind tries to figure out how we got to this point. Damian’s convinced it’s his fault. Cole was showing signs he wasn’t stable. However, we were too distracted by Thea, among other things. We’re all to blame.
I look over at my brother. His face is stony, emotionless. His hands tell another story. Damian’s fists clench and unclench repeatedly. And his eyes are reddened. He hasn’t let me see him cry, although I know he has. He’s worried about her, maybe more than he ever expected to be. My stomach knots because I’m worried too.
I can’t lose Thea. I can’t lose another woman in my life, let alone one that didn’t want to leave me. Victoria and my mom chose to walk away. Thea didn’t. She wants me and I want her. Anyone who gets in the way of that will find themselves choking on six feet of dirt, even Cole.
Between her missing and Sutton in the hospital, I’m a mess. Thankfully, my brother’s been able to keep it together enough to get us this far.
I check my phone again for an update. Sutton’s mom messaged me a couple of hours ago, letting us know he was out of surgery, but that his condition is still critical. I should be at his side, not tracking down Thea, because Cole lost his shit.
After Damian watched the security footage, we sped home. He checked the tracker he put in Thea’s satchel after Gavin started becoming a problem. Keeping tabs on her location was probably unethical, but damn it if I wasn’t glad for it—even if we had the wrong guy pegged for doing something like this.
Relief flooded me when I saw it was active—that quickly faded when we tracked it to the side of a highway. Cole must have removed it or tossed her bag.
I was sure that we’d lost her. He could be anywhere. But his computer held all the answers we needed. Well, his room, too.
We raided it, Damian hacking into his computer and me tearing a part every inch of his room. However, it was one locked drawer that shed light on his obsession with Thea.
In a folder labeled Poems, I found hundreds of printed out text conversations between Cassie and Thea. Scribbled notes over the papers looked like those of a deranged man. Another folder holds medical transcripts. Ones labeled Garrity Adult Crisis Stabilization Unit. The admittance date is from ten years ago. He was better, he’s been better.
At the bottom of the drawer, I found Cassie’s missing phone, a key copier kit, and a baggie filled with white stuff, flour, I realized after tasting it. A box with dozens of starter relays was covered by a black hoodie.
Cole was the one making Thea’s life a living hell, not Gavin.
His computer was next. Damian logged into his personal bank account and found he’d stopped for gas on the Tennessee Georgia line in the small town of Copperhill. Using his card was sloppy, but he hadn’t planned on doing this tonight.
The question was, did he keep going or stay near Copperhill? Damian searched his history for the town. Three days ago, he’d done numerous searches on cabin rentals in the area.
We then searched his email and sure enough, there was a confirmation from last night for a last-minute booking. A cabin just north of Copperhill. He only booked one night. Which meant that we might be too late.
I called in a favor with a friend at the Willow Hill police station, who got us in touch with the sheriff in Copperhill. We were already on our way to Tennessee and walking through the police station doors when the sheriff greeted us. Thankfully, she was on board with getting a team out to the cabin, considering the severity of the situation and Cole’s history.
I didn’t want to involve the police. We’ve dealt with them enough in the past—we prefer to handle our problems privately. But Damian insisted that this was the better option. We had no idea what we’d find when we arrived.
So here we are, speeding towards our girl, hoping that Cole hasn’t done something he’ll regret.
THEA
Cole’s eyes bulge in surprise. I can tell he doesn’t know what’s going on. His hands fly to his throat and he probes what’s lodged there. I expected blood to spray everywhere, but it only comes out in a slow trickle around the edges of the metal.
This is it, while he’s still in shock.
I push off of his chest and my feet hit the floor, ready to run. Just as I turn and lunge for the keys on the windowsill, I’m yanked back. Cole’s holding onto me with a death grip, his nails drawing blood from where they sink in.
When I meet his eyes, they’ve darkened with evil intent. Fuck. I use all of my body weight to pull free, however, he’s too strong. Suddenly, he’s throwing me down onto the couch and straddling me. How the hell has he not passed out from the pain?
I’m staring at the corkscrew still embedded in his skin. The sight of it makes me gag. I realize my fatal mistake as I watch the vein along the side of his neck bulge. I should have gone for that instead.
Pushing against his grip, I kick my legs, trying to find any way to catapult him off of me. Cole’s too heavy and the weight of his body holds my hips down like blocks of concrete.
His hands let my shoulders go and I don’t waste a moment, bringing them up to scratch at any bare skin I can get a hold of. He’s not fazed. Cole wraps both of his hands around my throat, much tighter than even Damian’s grip.
I pull at his fingers desperately, but it only makes him squeeze tighter. I try to suck in air, any air. It’s useless. Staring into Cole’s eyes, I see nothing but rage there. He doesn’t see me as the sweet, innocent woman he first met. If he did, he might have second thoughts about this. Now, I’m the whore who fucks his brothers. He’ll have no trouble killing that woman.
The realization that I’m about to die doesn’t shock me. It seems to wash over me in waves. The first wave is irony that, of course, I’d get murdered in this sorry ass cabin at the hands of a man who was supposed to love me. The second wave is sadness that I won’t get to say goodbye to Cassie, Sutton, Wes, or Damian. My sweet Sutton. He deserves to live. I’ll gladly go in his place if that’s an option, if the universe will allow it. The third wave is regret that I didn’t do more with my life. I’ve left no legacy, and I didn’t live my life to its fullest.
What a goddamn waste.
My lungs burn and my body jerks at the lack of air. Cole pushes down harder on my throat, the cool metal of his ring pressing into my skin. He doesn’t deserve that ring. He’s not one of them.
I’m not even trying to scratch at him anymore. I can barely focus as I see double. My fingers slap softly against his shoulder, his chest, and then they graze the handle of the corkscrew.
Fuck this. If I’m going to die, I’m dragging him to hell with me.
I give one last reach upwards just as my vision darkens around the edges and spots float in. My fingers find the handle and I grip as tightly as I can, yanking the corkscrew out. This time, his blood spurts out all over me. I expect Cole’s hands to fly to his throat, but he keeps his hold on me like this is some fucking game of chicken.
Stretching my arm out to the side, I bring it back up with all the strength I have left. The metal sinks into his skin, although I don’t know if I’ve hit the vein. Still, I’m satisfied with my effort. Wesley wouldn’t call this a fail. I fought like I wanted to live. I hope it makes him proud when he remembers me.
Cole’s hands push harder into my throat.
His warm blood coats me and darkness closes in—I go easily.
I wake with a stinging gasp of air, then another, and another. My chest is heaving and my head is pounding. I look around wildly, but I can barely focus. Finally, when my vision clears, I glance down at my body to find I’m covered in sticky redness.
Cole.He was on top of me. How long was I out? The door to the cabin is open, and the sky is still a pale light blue. I don’t think the sun’s risen yet. I couldn’t have been out for too long. Where the hell is Cole?
I roll off the couch, my body hits the floor with a thud. Everything hurts. My palms slip out from under me and my face smacks into the wood. I lift up to see a trail of blood leading out the door.
Gripping the coffee table and the couch, I pull myself up shakily. My body is weak. It takes me a minute to get to a full stand. When I do, I creep to the door and peek around the frame. No car.
He’s gone.
Sobs wrack my body and I hold myself up against the door. I’m relieved that I’m alive. I’m terrified that Cole is out there somewhere. Will he go after Damian, Sutton, and Wes? I want to sit here and cry until I can’t anymore. However, I’m not out of the woods yet—literally.
Walking down the steps of the porch, I see a trail of blood that leads to tire marks in the dirt. He definitely left, but how far did he get? I can’t help but feel like he could be down the only road out of here, waiting for me, making me believe I escaped. Only to take me again.
Looking around, I see no other option. This road will lead me to civilization, or close to it, but will it lead me to danger as well?
My phone.
I don’t want to go back inside. I don’t want to see the gruesome mess I caused. However, my phone is my lifeline. It’s my only way to call for help.
Pushing past the fear, I go back, grabbing my things. I search for Gavin’s phone too, but it’s gone. I turn mine on and head down the dirt road. It could be a mile, it could be five. Anxiously, I wait for my phone to power up, keeping my eyes and ears open.
Every sound makes me jump.
My phone screen lights up and I immediately dial the emergency number. The call drops before anyone can answer. “Fuck,” I mutter. No bars. The cabin had service—a call came in last night. I could go back or I could continue walking down this road. I should go back, that’s the sensible thing to do, but I can’t make myself.
If I get to the road, I can flag someone down and get to safety. I can do this. I can do this. I repeat it to myself, feeling a little stronger each time.
Thankfully, the road is relatively straight and I can see pretty far into the distance. No car. No Cole.
How he could walk, let alone drive, after I stabbed him in the neck twice is mind-boggling. Wesley said throat. Maybe he meant to incapacitate, not to kill.
I glance up from the dust I’m kicking up and see something in the distance. A car. Then another. And another. A highway. My heart leaps and my legs find some strength as I jog towards my salvation.
My body wants to give up too many times. I stumble over rocks and roll my ankle at least twice, but I push forward. I’m breaking through the treeline as a car speeds by. Falling to my knees, my tears spring free at this small win.
I’m crying into my hands when I hear sirens in the distance. I look up through blurred vision. It can’t be this easy. Another victory so soon.
I need to flag them down. The thought consumes my head.
The red and blue lights blink at me like small beacons of hope in the distance. I jump up and down, waving my hands to signal to them to slow down. My ankle aching each time, although I don’t care. And they do. I want to laugh, even though I’m crying—my emotions are all tangled together. I feel like a madwoman.
One car skids to a stop near me in the middle of the highway. Another stops a few hundred yards ahead, with a third stopping a ways behind. Everything happens so fast. Two officers put out traffic cones to block cars from passing.
A woman in uniform steps out of the car parked in the middle. She calls out to me, “Thea Griffin?”
“Yes, yes. That’s me,” I answer tearfully.
She opens the back door of her cruiser and I’m not prepared for what I see.
“Thea!” My name tears through the air as Damian runs toward me.
I’m in his arms seconds later. He’s pressing me to his chest as I cry into his neck and hold on to him like my life depends on it. I focus on all of my senses to ground me, to tell me that this is real.
His sea breeze and citrus scent fights against the metallic smell of blood I’m covered in. I let my fingers pull in the warmth of his skin. I swear I hear his heart pounding in his chest, making mine ache. Pulling back, I see his icy blue eyes are framed by redness…he’s been crying. My mouth finds his. I need to taste him to know that this isn’t some kind of delusion. I’m here, Damian. I’m here.
“You found me,” I choke out. He promised he’d always find me, but I had my doubts today.
He pulls me away from him, taking my face in his hands. “I told you I would. Even in death, princess. I’ll always find you.” His eyes travel over my body. “Are you hurt? Jesus, is this your blood?”
I shake my head. “No. I-I think I’m alright.” His eyes sweep over me and stop at my throat.
“Fuck, your neck is purple.” My hand instinctively touches the spot where Cole choked me.
Then I’m being jerked away from Damian. Wesley crushes me against him. The smell of pine and leather comforts me.
“I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.” He whispers it into my hair. I feel his chest heave with a sob. “I can’t lose you, blue eyes.”
My hands run over his back in comforting circles. “You didn’t. I’m here, Wes. I’d never leave you.” He sags against me. I don’t want to say the next part, however, they need to know. “It was Cole,” I spill. I hate having to tell them it was their brother.
Wesley pulls back, tilting my chin up gently. He says, “We know.”
My brows furrow. “How?”
I feel a hand on my lower back. Peeking over my shoulder, I see Damian standing protectively behind me.
“You should have seen him, blue eyes. As soon as he realized you were missing, he strong-armed the head of security at the hospital to show him the video footage. That’s how we found out,” Wes boasts proudly.
My lip quivering, I ask, “You did that?”
His eyes widen and his throat bobs. “I would’ve done much more than that if I needed to, Thea.”
“Sutton?” The mention of the hospital sends a surge of panic through me. I look between Damian and Wes, waiting for them to tell me something.
Damian rubs my back. “He’s out of surgery. It went well, but he’s not out of the woods yet. They’re keeping a close eye on him.”
I let out a breath. As I do, the officer walks over to us.
“Ms. Griffin. Is there anyone else at that cabin we should know about?” Her eyes travel over my bloody body. “Alive or otherwise?”
“He was gone when I woke up. The car is gone too.”
She nods. “I’m going to need a statement from you. But I think you need to get checked out at the hospital first. Then come down to the station. We’ll try to be as quick as possible. I’m sure you’re eager to get home.”
“We’ll make sure she gets looked at,” Wes assures her. I watch her walk away and stare up at him.
“You’d be proud of me. I went for the throat, like you said.” His face scrunches as his brown eyes sweep over me.
“Did you go for the throat or take his head clean off?” A laugh gurgles up, but I stop it. Nausea rolls through me. This is their brother that we’re talking about and the man I loved just yesterday.
As demented as Cole is, it still feels wrong. They must be hurting at the loss. And I’m only going to make it worse. I’m going to have to be the one to tell them about everything Cole has done, including trying to kill Sutton. That can wait.
“He won’t get to you again. I promise.” I want to be relieved by Damian’s words, however, it’s difficult. Cole is out there somewhere and I have a feeling this isn’t the last we’ve seen of him. “On my life, princess.” Those words have a whole new meaning now. Cole was so close to making that a reality.
“Let’s get you to the hospital. I’m going to need a play-by-play of your neck move. I’m impressed,” Wes says proudly as he leads me to the ambulance that’s being escorted through the traffic cones.
I turn my head to look back down the long dirt road—my almost grave. I’ve always been able to find beauty in the darkest places and today it almost killed me.