Chapter Fifteen #2
But hands shoved me hard, making me stumble forward.
I managed not to fall, but before I could surge forward again, he landed a kick to the back of my leg, sending me down onto my knees, the impact of the hard floor sending pain shooting through my thighs and hips.
Heartbeat hammering, I scrambled forward on all fours, trying to get to the side of the bed.
A handful of my hair was grabbed. I was shoved forward, the whole side of my face catching the edge of my wooden bed frame.
My lip split, a metallic taste filling my mouth as I finally drew in a breath and did all I could do as he viciously yanked my hair.
I screamed with everything I had.
It only lasted maybe three seconds before one hand yanked my hair until my head was arched unnaturally backward. Then his hand was over my mouth, fingers digging in, silencing me.
I tried to throw my weight forward, to use the side of the bed to pull myself out of his grip.
It was no use.
He was too strong as his arm wrapped around my waist, pinning me to his body.
“You’re gonna pay for what you did in Georgia.”
Georgia.
Where I’d bested not only him, but his buddy.
I could do it again.
I had to.
I reached up onto the bed, knowing I’d left the remote up there when I’d turned the TV off earlier.
I felt around blindly, my head and chest getting tighter as my oxygen depleted until, finally, my hand closed around the hard plastic.
With a death grip on half of it, I drove the other end into the man’s knuckles with every bit of strength I had left.
“Fuck,” he snarled, his hand dropping.
I gasped for breath and surged forward.
But a remote wasn’t much of a weapon.
Before my fingertips could touch the gun safe, I was shoved forward.
This time, his knees pressed into my back, making me choke for air once again as the crushing sensation felt like my ribcage was splintering apart.
I tried to scream, but nothing but a rough rasp escaped my lips.
I couldn’t reach him to hit, couldn’t kick, could do nothing but lie there and feel my life flash before my eyes.
Denali, being told by York that she would never see me again. The nonstop tears, the questions, the uncertainty. Denali, growing into a teenager and young adult without me. Traveling, falling in love, maybe having babies of her own one day…
I’d never get to see any of that.
Tears flooded my eyes as a whooshing sound had me jolting.
I knew that sound.
I’d heard it many times during my childhood. I’d been a reckless kid, never following the rules, always getting into little troubles.
And I had a grandfather who believed in corporal punishment, no matter how many times it never worked on me.
I knew the sound of a belt leaving its hoops better than most.
But this guy wasn’t there to beat me.
He didn’t even seem interested in assaulting me.
He just wanted me dead.
The loop closed around my forehead, and I tried to press my face to the hard floor, attempted to squeeze my chin to my neck. But all he had to do was grab my hair again, yank violently backward, and the belt was around my throat.
Tightening.
Squeezing.
The leather was more unrelenting than a hand, the frayed edges biting into my skin, the pressure even and unyielding.
My heartbeat went from a quick hammering to a slow, thick thud.
My vision darkened around the edges.
Then, suddenly, light.
Flashing around the room in a small strobe.
A voice.
“Hey!”
I wanted it to be him. I wanted it to be him so badly. But I didn’t know that voice. It sounded young, angry, but scared around the edges.
“Get off of her!”
The flashlight beam shook around the room for a second before I heard a crack as, I assumed, it smacked into the head of my attacker.
“What’s going on in here?”
Another voice. Male. Older.
The pressure on my body eased as my attacker turned to face the men.
With leaden arms, I reached up, yanking the belt loose enough to start sucking in greedy gulps of air.
I was aware of yelling, of some slamming, of footsteps. But I couldn’t even make myself push up from where I was on the floor. I just lay there, air burning my lungs, throat screaming, too weak even to lift my head.
I was aware of someone, likely the older guy, finding the breaker box, of the lights all flashing back on.
Then of the voice of the younger guy as he came closer. “Hey, are you okay? Can you move?”
All I could manage was a garbled sound.
“No,” the older guy called. “Don’t move her. They always say not to move someone that’s hurt. Cops are coming, honey,” he told me, but I was suddenly too tired to care. I could barely keep my eyes open.
Until, over the sound of the men talking, their adrenaline still pumping, judging by the shakiness of their voices, I heard another voice. Loud. Fierce.
“Runa!”
Before I could even try to push up, he was inside the bedroom, rushing past the men, and dropping down to his knees beside me.
“Don’t touch the evidence!” the older man yelled as, I imagine, York reached for the belt. “She can breathe now.”
“Runa, fuck,” York said, reaching to touch the side of my face.
“D…enny,” I rasped, each syllable a knife scratch down my throat.
“Denny’s fine. She’s with Eddie and Harmon. She’s fine. You’re gonna be okay, too.”
“That’s the cops,” the older man said. “Gonna go out and show ‘em up.”
The boy must have followed, judging by the two sets of footsteps.
“What… do… say?”
“Tell them the truth of what happened. Here. Don’t mention the stalking. Just tell them what you saw, what happened, but only here, okay?”
“‘Kay.”
“I’m gonna get you fixed up after this, I promise. But right now, I’m gonna hide your gun safe.”
The gun in it wasn’t exactly legal.
He rushed to do that, and I was pretty sure it was moved into Denny’s room somewhere before he came back to me, reaching to pull me up as the cops came into the room.
It was a lot of questions then, ones that grew harder and harder to answer as the adrenaline wore off and the pain in my throat intensified.
I was checked over by paramedics who tried to convince me to go to the hospital. But a hospital meant bills, ones way too high for me to pay, since I didn’t have insurance.
“I’ll get her there,” York promised them before, finally, it was over. And we were alone.
Or so I thought.
Because five minutes after the cops and neighbors left, as I was sitting in the living room with an icepack to my throat, the door opened, and there were several men in biker cuts.
“What?” I tried, but couldn’t manage anymore.
“You two can’t stay here anymore. You’re coming back to the clubhouse with me.
They’re just getting you some clothes. And basically everything Denali owns,” he said with a smile.
“Don’t object,” he demanded, coming over to sit down on the coffee table and grab my knees.
“You almost died tonight, babe. You have to be somewhere safe.”
I nodded.
I mean, what else could I do? He was right. I’d almost died. If it hadn’t been for my neighbors, I would have. But what if the next attack happened while they were at work or out with friends? What if someone hurt Denny?
No.
I couldn’t stay.
And the only other option if I wanted to stay in the area, was to move into the clubhouse.
“They won’t be able to get to you there,” he promised me. “If they tried, they’d have to get through me first.”
I looked up at him, seeing the determination on his face, the anger, and beneath all that, the concern.
That was what had tears flooding my eyes as the bikers carried bag after bag out of the bedrooms and into the hall.
“Hey, it’s alright.”
York shifted over to the couch, pulling me into his arms and letting me cry it out until there were no more tears left.
Someone must have passed him a box of tissues, because he pressed some into my hand, letting me wipe my eyes and blow my nose.
“I need to get you checked out.”
“No insurance.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does—”
“For Denali’s sake, we need to know there is no hidden damage lingering under there. I don’t mind footing a hospital bill for her to keep having her mom. Or I know a clinic we can go to, if that is more comfortable to you.”
It would likely be less financially, so that was what I’d agreed to.
I stood when he did, but the whole world seemed to spin, and my legs gained fifty pounds in an instant.
Before I could even voice what was going on, I found myself swept up into York’s ridiculously strong arms.
“I got you.”