Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
AVA
My mind flittered in and out of consciousness.
My body was stiff and shaking uncontrollably.
It was cold, but my anxiety had me sweating and my teeth chattered at the chill that wouldn’t leave.
I kept telling myself I was no longer a teenager locked in the basement, no longer a child easily frightened with an overactive imagination.
That there were no monsters. But that was a lie.
There were monsters. These men were prime examples.
And they were shipping me off like I was a piece of property and not a person.
To be owned when I didn’t want to be owned.
Another lie. I wanted Emerson to own me because I knew I was safe with him, that he would treat me like I was valuable, not a thing to be traded.
I wanted to go back to the prior night when he was bringing me to ecstasy, worshiping me like I was his goddess.
Tears came again, and I fought them for only a few seconds.
If I was going to cry, now was the time.
I wouldn’t let these men see me cry. They didn’t deserve to see my tears or my fear. I wouldn’t let them break me.
There was constant movement, rumbling under me like I was in a vehicle, and more tears spilled as I realized Emerson wouldn’t find me now.
Not with me locked away like this, on my way to a life that would be worse than anything I had experienced as a child.
This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare, and I would wake up soon to find Emerson’s arms around me.
I hadn’t taken my medicine. That was all it was. A nightmare.
I continued to tell myself that, to convince myself that none of this was real, but the longer I did, the less confident my words became.
A jarring motion sent my body crashing hard into the side of the box and pain shooting up my arm.
The vehicle had stopped, and my heart hammered.
Fear shredded any remnants of positivity.
The man who had bought me was out there and panic collapsed over me, stealing the air from my lungs and sending me into terror mode.
I screamed and scraped, a final adrenaline surge flooding through me.
I pounded my knuckles against the wood until they were bloody.
What remained of my voice was a high-pitched squeak, but I kept screaming.
Promising myself that I would fight this, that I would not let this man have me without a battle and if he killed me, then it was better than what he could do to me.
A loud rattling sound broke through the constant hum of the vehicle, and I heard shouting.
Every instinct kicked in and I pounded more, screaming and crying.
Terror seized me at the thought of what was coming, but the shouting escalated, raised and familiar.
My fear changed to desperation, and I continued to fight against the restraint of the box, my screams raw screeches.
“Cut the unit!” I knew that voice and with it, an ache swelled in my chest. “I hear something!”
The hum stopped, and I screamed so loud my voice cracked. I hit the wood with my knees, ignoring how the skin split further, determined they would find me.
“Back here!”
Emerson. I recognized the low baritone of his voice, the emotion in it.
He’d found me. Tears rushed from me as I yelled for him.
Sounds of screeches and tumbling until my box shook.
I pounded and bellowed until light streamed in at my head and hands pulled me out, enveloping me into arms I knew too well.
I clutched at his shirt and inhaled his scent, letting his arms curl me into his body.
“Shh, I’ve got you, wildcat,” he said, never letting go. Someone put a heavy blanket over me, but I didn’t lift my head. My tears were flowing too freely, my body shaking too severely to do anything but cling to Emerson.
He stood and carried me. He tried to hand me to someone else at some point, but I clutched at him, curling further into his hold, and he relented.
I felt him sit then drop down, the landing shaking me, but still he didn’t let go.
Hushed voices spoke, and I thought I recognized my uncle’s voice.
The soothing motion of a car and his embrace lulled me to sleep, exhaustion sweeping through me as the last of my adrenaline slipped away.
Splashes of consciousness mingled with a sleep so heavy I couldn’t ignore it.
Each time I came to, an oppressive fog weighed on me, but just beyond it, I sensed Emerson’s presence.
A calm in the storm that pulled me back under each time.
There were times when I opened my eyes and his worried face came into focus.
When I sensed his touch on my face before whatever drugs they had given me stole me away.
Those lucid moments were short but enough for me to realize that the trauma had been so bad they had needed to give me sedatives.
Reality came and went, but Emerson was the steady beacon that kept me reaching back through the fog.
I needed to stay conscious long enough to let him know I would be all right.
That just knowing he was there, that I was safe now because of him, was enough to assuage the damage.
When the darkness began to abate again, I fought to stay aware.
A ragged breath filled my throat, and I sat up, only to have Emerson wrap me into his arms and lower me back to the bed.
I opened my eyes fully to see him there.
“You found me,” I said, my voice so raw I could barely hear it.
“I promised I would protect you.” His eyes held such sadness. “I failed you, but I won’t fail you again.”
I reached my hand up to his cheek, seeing bandages over my knuckles and some of my fingers. The effort to hold it up was trying, and I was relieved when he took it and brought it to his mouth.
“You didn’t fail me,” I said, even though speaking hurt.
“You’re hurt,” he said, softly. “They hurt you, touched you, and I let that happen.”
Guilt twisted his features, making them harder.
“No, Emerson. You saved me.” I ran my finger over a cut on his cheek, eyeing the bruises on his face. “You fought for me, and you saved me.”
“But you’re still hurt, Ava,” he said, dropping his head. “Shh, go back to sleep.” He moved me against his chest, and I fought the heaviness of my eyes, losing my battle.
I blinked my eyes open again, this time without the heavy exhaustion that had weighed me down. Emerson was next to me, and as I moved toward him, he opened his eyes. A pained expression lined his features, and I wanted to remove it, knowing I was the cause.
“My life is dangerous, Ava.”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me that, why it mattered.
“I like danger,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek and kissing him. The kiss was so gentle, no sign of the aggressive man who left bruises from his intensity. This man thought I was fragile now, and I hated that he did.
“How long have I been sleeping, Emerson?”
“Three days.” The regret in his voice was palpable.
His fingers pulled my hair forward.
“I told you I was a brunette,” I said, trying to make his grimace disappear.
“I miss the blonde and pink.” His thumb brushed over the side of my nose. “And the rhinestone.”
“All of them,” I said, frowning as I thought of what those assholes had done.
Eyes creasing further, he said, “All of them.” He knew. Knew they’d touched me to take my piercings out. Based on my clean skin, he must have bathed me when we returned. Another soft, sweet side to a man who had killed for me.
Stretching, I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and waiting for my head to stop spinning. I felt like I’d been sleeping for days. But then again, I had.
“Careful,” he said and his hand came to my back. “Let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom and…” I brought my hand to my mouth and breathed. “…find a toothbrush.”
He chuckled, telling me there was one in the bathroom for me as I stood, ignoring the wobbling in my legs.
My knees ached as the scabs on my cuts stretched, and my walk across the room was slow.
By the time I peed and brushed my teeth, I felt human again.
Taming my unruly hair proved futile, so I gave up and returned to the bed where Emerson was lying in the same spot, his hand behind his head, waiting for me.
Fully awake after so many days of rest, I climbed onto him, sitting on his chest and ignoring the slight discomfort in my knees.
His shirt was off, and a bandage was on his shoulder.
My fingers traced the bandage edge, hating that he’d been hurt.
Between the bruises on his face and this, I knew it had been a fight to the death to save me.
He brought his hands to my waist, tentatively, like he was afraid to touch me.
“Did you kill them all?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I captured his bottom lip, dragging my teeth over it. “Torture the ones who took me?”
A twitch of his lips and he said, “Still torturing. I expect they might bleed to death before I remove any more parts, but maybe another day or so of suffering before I send them to hell.”
I lifted the T-shirt he must have put on me, watching his eyes light, then dim when I threw it aside.
“My therapist once told me to find ways to distract myself from my terrible memories,” I said, bringing his hands to my breasts. “I think it’s time for distraction, Emerson.”
“Ava, I don’t think—”
“I don’t want you to think, Emerson. We take risks.
You and me. It’s what we do. We don’t play it safe, and we don’t let the past do anything but feed our need to conquer more of life.
” His hands moved, caressing my breasts.
“I want you to distract me. To remove their unwelcome touches from me and replace them with yours.”
His eyes darkened, his hands stilling. “Did they…”