Chapter 18 #2
“Ashland?” I whisper into the phone, my voice breaking.
“I'm here, lass. I'm listening.”
“Stay on the line with me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I left. You were right. You were right about everything. ”
“Bianca.” He cuts through my panic like a blade. “Listen to me. You've got nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault.”
Of course he would say that. Of course he would because Ashland…
No. I won't think of that now.
Tears fall hot and fast down my face. “He's going to… I think… I think he's trying to kill me.”
There’s a long, dangerous pause.
When Ashland speaks again, his voice is pure ice. “He'll not get the chance, love. I’m right nearby. I wasn't going to let you face that bastard alone, Bianca. I wasn't going to take you again unless it was… unless it was your choice, love. Where are you? Same place? Tell me now.”
“Still in the alley behind Tessa's Bistro,” I whisper.
And it's not lost on me that I'm in the exact place where I first met Ashland six years ago. Right here in this alley.
“I'm two minutes out. Can you see the street from where you are?”
I peek around the corner of the alley. The main road is maybe sixteen yards away.
“Aye.”
“Good girl. That's my girl. I'm in a black Range Rover. You run to me, Bianca. You don't look back. You don't hesitate. You just fucking run when I tell you. ”
“What if he catches me before?—”
“He won't.” The absolute certainty in his voice steadies me. “And if he tries, you use your knife. Do you hear me, Bianca? You scream bloody murder and use that fucking knife. Go for the soft spots. Don't hold back. Gut him if you have to.”
A door slams somewhere behind me, and my hand trembles around the phone.
Marcus's voice echoes off the walls, high-pitched and mocking. “Bianca, love. Come out. Don't run from me now. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's alright, love. We'll get you the help you need.”
The help I need? Is he already forming a story about my mental health? About how I'm fucked up and he needs to take care of me? My blood runs cold.
I whisper frantically into the phone. “He's in the alley.”
“I'm thirty seconds out. Get ready to fucking run .”
I hear footsteps scraping on the pavement, slow and deliberate.
“Bianca,” Marcus says, deceptively gentle. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
It's like a cat-and-mouse game, and he's enjoying every goddamn second.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, his silhouette appearing near the dumpster. His eyes are murderous, but his face is placid, as if he's wearing a mask. He tsks softly, shaking his head. “Very embarrassing behavior, darling.”
I press deeper into the shadows and grip the knife so hard my knuckles turn white.
“Run, Bianca,” Ashland says into my ear, urgent and commanding. “I’m here now. Run. ”
“Come here, Bianca,” Marcus says in that cold, threatening tone I've come to know so well. “Don't make me come get you.”
“Stay away from me.” My voice cracks.
He laughs. “Oh, love. Scream all you want.
No one's here to help you. They all think you're crazy.” He takes another step closer.
“Just like the others. Thinks about it. I helped them through it. They thought I was their savior, right up until the end. Nobody trusts an unbalanced woman, darling. You have too much of a reputation for instability now.”
“The… the others?” I whisper.
“Otherwise very smart girls who lost the privilege of life,” he says, close enough now that I can see his face clearly in the dim light from the street. His mask has completely dropped. “Look at you, trembling. Pity you had to ruin everything, Bianca. I actually quite liked you.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me like I'm an insect .
“I'm here, lass,” Ashland growls in my ear. “Black Range Rover. Right side of the street. Fucking run . Now .”
I see it—headlights cutting through the darkness at the mouth of the alley.
I bolt. I hip-check Marcus, taking him by surprise, but I only have seconds before he rights himself.
I kick off my heels mid-stride, my bare feet scraping the rough pavement. Behind me, I hear Marcus's roar of rage.
“Bianca!” Marcus lunges, his hand catching my dress. The fabric tears, but I don't stop. I can't stop.
I run as fast as I can. I can feel him behind me… can hear his footfalls pounding closer.
The SUV’s door flies open.
Ashland’s wearing a mask, but I can see what’s in his eyes—pure, unfiltered murder.
“Get in the car, Bianca,” he snarls. “Now, before I kill him, and we do not want that right now.”
I scramble past him, diving into the passenger seat. I hear the sickening thud of Ashland’s fists and Marcus’s howl of rage, before Ashland tosses him bodily to the ground and leaps into the driver’s seat, cursing up a storm.
“You'll regret this!” Marcus screams after us, his voice echoing down the alley as he pushes to one knee and grips his side. “You'll regret this, Bianca! And you—” He points at Ashland. “You have no idea what you're interfering with! No fucking idea! ”
I slam the door, and Ashland takes off, the tires screeching.
His hands are trembling on the wheel. “Are you okay? Tell me you're okay. Did he hurt you?”
I've never heard his voice like this—shaking, desperate, barely controlled.
“I'm—I’m alright.”
He yanks off his mask and throws it to the floor, his eyes raking over me frantically. “Of course you are. You brilliant little lass. You're fine, aren't you, you brat? You ran like you'd never been injured in your life. Shite, Bianca.”
I let out a laugh that's half sob. I'm laughing and crying at the same time.
“You have no idea how much self-restraint it took me not to kill him right there,” Ashland says through gritted teeth. “I was right there . But I had to get you safe first. If I'd killed him with you standing there, you'd be dragged into this, and there were too many witnesses.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It's complicated.”
He reaches over, not looking away from the road, and takes my hand. His grip is fierce, desperate—a lifeline in the darkness. It's warm and comforting—safety and home, everything I didn't know I needed.
It's Ashland.
“Take me home,” I whisper .
He glances at me sharply. “Home?”
“Take me back to the cabin. With you.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is hoarse. “Because once you're back there with me, I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
“I'm sure.” For the first time in weeks, I'm completely sure.
The smile that breaks across his face is devastating.
“He's not gonna let this go,” I tell Ashland quietly.
“I know,” he says, shaking his head, that small smile still playing at his lips. “And I can't believe I had to let the bastard live. But we'll handle it.” He squeezes my hand tighter. “Together.”
I let out an exhale, lean back in my seat, and feel his reassuring presence next to me.
I'm safe.
I'm with Ashland.
Whatever Marcus brings next, I won't face it alone.