If you get this maybe you can send me a letter back with a picture of you. I do not know if this is the right adres address. It was the only one for Virginia I could find. I am putting a picture from last year of me and Mattie in this envelope so you remember what we look like. It is from soccer camp. I scored 13 goals in one season. That is pretty good. Do you like soccer? Maybe you, Mattie and me could play one day when the whether weather gets warm. Do you get a lot of snow in Virginia? I have to go to bed. I am sorry my writing is sloppy. I should have used a pencil. I hope you get this letter. I miss you.
Love,
Dayton Maxwell Hunt Wolfe
Chloe folded the letter and placed it on top of the envelope with shaking hands. She wiped her tears and looked at Marcus with pleading eyes. “He doesn’t—”
“You think I give a shit about your excuses?” he roared. “They think I abandoned them!”
She sobbed, terrified that he might punish her boys as well. “They’re good boys, Marcus. Please don’t hurt them.”
“Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to get your fat ass up and use the bathroom and then walk with me to the car. You will not run or scream or fight me in any way, or so help me God, Chloe, I will drag you right to the police and have you arrested for kidnapping. We’re driving back to Virginia, where you will be a dutiful and obedient wife—”
“But the boys—”
“The children are already on their way there.”
Terror lanced bluntly through her heart as it momentarily stopped beating. “What?”
He glanced at his watch. “We need to get moving. They left hours ago.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Saint Ignatius Elementary on Welsh Road.”
Shock settled over her so heavy, she began hyperventilating, her entire body trembling. “Marcus,” she pleaded, gasping for breath as the pressure in her chest became unbearable. “They won’t understand—”
“Whose fault is that?” He drew back his hand and she covered her face, cowering in silence.
It had been six years since someone struck her. She couldn’t go back to that. Nothing would break her faster than falling into her old position as his whipping post. She needed to get her boys and then she’d go to the police.
“Where are they? Who has them?”
“They’re halfway home. If you want to see them, get up and do exactly as I say.”
She panted, flinching at the slightest motion and holding her hands protectively above her face. Dear God, he stole her children, her babies. What were they thinking? “Can I call them?”
He laughed. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to do you any favors? You’re lucky I don’t choke the life out of you. Then it would be just me and Dayton and Matthew. An adjustment for them I’m sure, but they’d adapt—”
“I’ll go with you.” She couldn’t listen to anymore. The more he spoke the more time her boys spent alone with whatever lunatic was helping him.
He let out a cold laugh. “You act like I gave you a choice.” He lunged at her.
She screamed as he grabbed her jaw with bruising force. His fingers wedged between her lips, forcing her teeth apart.
“Open your fucking mouth!”
Choking, unsure what he was doing, she gagged. Gripping her by the face his fingers shoved between her lips to the back of her throat. His palm covered her mouth and nose. “Swallow.”
She gagged and fought him, but he jabbed a knee into her chest.
“Swallow it,” he growled.
Her eyes watered and she panicked, the taste of some sort of pill leaving a bitter trail on her tongue as it dissolved.
He let her go and she gasped, dry heaving as she faced the carpet on all fours. Her concentration zeroed in on the sensation of the capsule moving its way lower. Silently, she worked her throat, trying to regurgitate whatever he’d given her, but it was no use.
“Puke and I will kill you,” he whispered, close enough that his breath blew over her sweaty skin.
She shut her eyes and wept. Her happy life was over. She was going back to hell.
“We’ll be leaving shortly.” He casually adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “You’ll need to piss before we go.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe awoke, assaulted by the need to vomit. Before even opening her eyes she mumbled, “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”
Her body slid to the left as her world pulled to the right. Dried tears sealed her lashes, which grotesquely pulled apart. The brief, blurred impression of highway markers flashed by, tail lights, and pine trees. Her body sagged forward, restrained by something holding her in place. Her sluggish hand moved to her chest. A seatbelt. She moaned as nausea caused her mouth to water.
Something pressed into her side and she winced as it grazed a particularly sore spot. The car door opened and though they were no longer moving, she couldn’t escape the sensation of swaying. Warm fresh air hit her face and the whooshing sound of speeding traffic met her ears. Her eyes squeezed shut trying to fight the tumultuous waves sloshing around in her stomach.
The seatbelt clicked and she was yanked forward, folded over into a suffocating position. Her motor skills were non-existent. Her eyes watered with fresh tears as her hair pulled at her scalp and she was shoved low, her hands scrambling for purchase and catching on the car door.
Peeking through her crusty lashes she spotted a decomposing cigarette butt, gravel, and sun-scorched grass illuminated by the interior lights spilling from the vehicle. This had to be a nightmare.
Her vision flickered under the strobe of passing cars and inky night, as the sound of speeding vehicles hissed by. The smell of exhaust caused the shallow contents of her stomach to curdle. The hand forcing her down tightened in her hair.
“Puke.”
Marcus’s voice was all her stomach needed to uncap the storm in her belly. Mouth open, the contents rushed onto the gravel, drowning the old cigarette in bile.
After a few minutes of spitting and catching her breath, she was yanked upright. He pushed a tissue in her face and returned the seatbelt over her chest. “Clean yourself up.”
Her head was throbbing, her neck too weak to offer any real support. Licking her lips, she tried to expel the bitter taste coating her tongue as her body sagged into the seat of the car.
“Do you have any water?”
He didn’t answer, now back in the driver’s seat. She blinked nervously as he pulled into oncoming traffic, tensing as they almost got rear-ended by a minivan. Her limbs were too heavy to move and she wilted in her seat as the car accelerated.
Her wavering gaze scanned for landmarks. After a few minutes, she found one for Moorefield. They were in Virginia. How long had she been out? She needed to stay awake and get to her boys.
“Marcus,” Her throat was raw and speaking was painful. “Who has the boys?”
“Don’t worry about them. They’re my concern now.”
Swallowing, she carefully formed syllables into words, the sticky saliva in her mouth enough to make her vomit again. “They must be terrified—confused. Please … let me call them.”
He gave a bitter, humorless laugh, leering at her. “How stupid do you think I am, Chloe? You will not get your fingers within a foot of my phone. I’ve checked in with them. They’re home, settling into their rooms for the night.”
She hated every word that left his mouth, making her more frightened and hopeless, but she needed to keep him talking. She was on the brink of passing out again and needed to keep herself alert.
They were only another hour or so from her old home and she needed to know as much as possible about the situation she was returning to before they got there. The more Marcus could catch her off guard, the more dangerous he was.
“Where will they sleep, Marcus? Dayton’s outgrown his toddler bed and Mattie’s room only had a crib.”
“Their bedrooms have been prepared. I’ve been busy since getting the letter from Dayton. Our home’s re
ady for all of us to start living as a family again.”
She wondered what kind of preparations he’d made for her. She wanted to see her boys, to make sure they were unharmed. So help her God, if Marcus damaged a single hair on either of their bodies, she’d stab him to death with a butter knife.
Breathing deeply, in and out through her nose, her insides churned as she repeatedly swallowed to lessen the taste of bile. Whatever was in her system, she wanted it out.
“I need to use a bathroom.”
He looked at her skeptically.
“Marcus, I haven’t peed since we left. Please?” She actually did have to use the bathroom. They’d been in the car for hours.
He turned his attention back to the road and ignored her. She thought he was just going to let her wet herself until he finally said, “I have my gun, Chloe. You try to run from me and I’ll shoot you in the back of the head before you get two feet.”
It was too familiar, too recognizable as the demon she’d buried long ago, back from the grave and full of vengeance. Her chin quivered as she juggled old subservience and new independence, forgetting how to reason with a sociopath.
“Why are you doing this? You would shoot me? Why, Marcus? It doesn’t have to be like this.” Her words slurred, but she forced them out anyway. “It’s been six years. Your life had to move on in some degree. If this is about the boys, we can get a lawyer. You don’t care about me. I’ll give you a divorce so you can find a wife that makes you happy. You can have your life and I can have mine and we’ll work out something with the children.”
She would spend her life figuring ways to keep him away from her boys if she had to, but lying seemed her best option at the moment.
“I’m sure you’d just love that, so you could run off with your friend.”
“There’s no one else, Marcus,” she lied—or maybe it was the truth. She couldn’t think beyond her children at the moment. “It’s just me. Let’s not do this. There are better ways to handle things, better for the children.”
“You’re right, Chloe. Once we get home, I’ll let you have your divorce, but the children are staying with me. I want full custody. You stole them from me for six years. No court will grant you custody over me. You. Are. A. Criminal.”
She wasn’t a criminal. She was married to a monster and had no choice but to run to protect her babies. “The boys would never forgive you—”
“Don’t presume to tell me what my sons would feel. You think you have them brainwashed, but you’ve always been weaker than me. You’ll see. Now, you have three choices, so be grateful and decide wisely. You can either sign over custody and live your life without the boys, or agree to my terms in this marriage. Or I press charges and force you out. Which will it be?”
He was delusional, so much so, his threat of taking full custody wasn’t even an option. It would never happen. She squirmed in her seat, her bladder unbearably full and her kidneys starting to ache.
Marcus reached behind her and she flinched, already returning to the wife who cowered at her husband’s slightest move. The car swerved as he returned his gaze to the road and rested his hand on the leather console between them. Under his palm rested a familiar, steel handgun and she quietly panted, frozen in place.
His eyes darted to the right of the road as he abruptly veered onto the shoulder and skidded to a stop. Moving the gun to his other hand he shut off the car, pocketing the keys.
“Don’t move.”
Was he going to walk her into the woods and shoot her? He said she had choices, but that would be just like him to decide for her anyway. How easy it would be for him to leave her there, bleeding to death, so he could have back his sons.
He left the car and she considered locking herself inside, but he had the keys and a weapon. She had nothing. Her face began to sweat as her pulse jackhammered in her throat.
He jerked opened her door. “Get out.”
Paralyzed by fear, she didn’t move. She needed to make it to her children. Once she had them she’d contact the proper authorities and get a restraining order and press charges. From there she’d file for divorce. She’d hire the best lawyer and try to expunge his parental rights as a father.
“I said, get out of the fucking car!”
She jumped and scrambled out of her seat. Her legs were weak and as she stood she was again assaulted with the need to vomit.
“Over there.” He motioned toward the trees with the gun.
When she didn’t move he grabbed at her neck, yanking her in the direction he wanted her to go. She cried, her tears a useless release of terror.
They walked about twenty feet into the woods, the whoosh of the cars on the highway muffled by the trees. The crunch of pine needles under their shoes and her heavy breathing now a deafening roar in her ears.
“That’s far enough.”
She quietly sobbed, her tears blurring her vision as she tracked the glint of the gun by passing lights of oncoming traffic. There would be no sympathy for her.
“Do you have to piss or not?”
Her bodily functions forgotten, she looked at him, and again at their surroundings. How was she here? How far would she get if she ran? Would anyone hear her if she screamed? Was the gun loaded?
“Move it! Either piss or hold it until we get there. But if you piss in my car you’ll be pissing blood for weeks.”
Pacifying him any way she could, she held up her hands and nodded. “O—okay. Could you turn—”
He laughed. “You really think I’m dumb. Let me clear something up for you right now. Privacy is a privilege you no longer have. Thirty seconds.”
Her hands went to the snap of her pants and she quickly bunched them around her knees. She held the fabric away from her bottom as she squatted close to the ground. She lost her balance and almost toppled over, but steadied herself on the trunk of a tree.
“Ten seconds.”
“I can’t go,” she cried, too panicked to relax her bladder.
The gun clicked as he leveled it at her face. “How about now?”
Her body went numb. The sound of liquid hitting the soft ground filled the silence. She forced herself to release her urine as quickly as possible. Her muscles grew weak and she was still going. She let out a breath and pushed some more.
“Time’s up.”
Her efforts doubled, a flood trickling over the dried underbrush and wetting the soles of her shoes. “I need paper.”
“Not my problem. Get up.”
She pressed the last of the liquid out and tried to shake off any excess. She lost her balance. Lightheaded, her eyes fluttered as the blood returned to her weak limbs. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. She fumbled with her pants, pulling them up, but not getting them buttoned before Marcus dragged her back to the car.
Once inside, he activated the locks, stowed the gun in the panel on his door, and instructed her to buckle her seat belt. The road was busy but not swamped. A car passed about every two seconds. She could flag someone down, use their cell phone to call 911 or scream for them to make the call and report Marcus’s vehicle. The cops could reach their boys before he did.
The shoddy plan formulated in a split second and as he slid the keys back in the ignition, her fingers snatched the handle, jerking the door as her eyes went to the lock. She reached for the buttons, but he was faster, shoving the back of her skull and smacking her head into the window.
“Disobedient bitch!”
She gripped her head and his fist smashed into her windpipe. A hideous sound came from her throat as she gasped for air. The metallic taste of blood tickled her esophagus as her lungs burned.
“You will learn to listen.”
She sobbed painfully as he pulled onto the highway.
“Know this, wife, it would be my pleasure to give back the pain you caused me. One little reason is all the incentive I need and you’ll get a glimpse of how furious I actually am. If I were you, I’d be a dutiful wife and follow directions for a change.
”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chloe recognized familiar, yet changed landmarks when the clock on the dash read 8:04. A mixture of anxiety and dread filled her tender stomach as they neared their destination. She wanted to see Dayton and Mattie, but she wasn’t sure if things would get immeasurably worse once she saw them. She didn’t know what they’d been through to get all the way to Virginia. Marcus had total leverage as long as he had her boys.
They coasted through their old town that seemed for the most part unchanged. Cars were newer, streetlamps were updated, establishments looked a little more worn in places, but it was the same overall. Chloe adjusted her clothing and sat up a bit in her seat, every swallow a painful reminder of what happened when she broke his rules.
Her heart pounded as they approached the turn. Just as she was looking in the direction of their old street, Marcus drove past the turn and continued on the main road.
“Where are you going?” Her voice was a mere wheeze of sound that abraded painfully.
He didn’t answer.
The car pulled into a shabby shopping strip under ill repair, same as it had been six years ago. Most of the stores were closed at this hour and the lot was vacant. They drove toward the back of the buildings and circled the property.
Crates and pallets piled alongside dumpsters. A hose spigot leaked from a cement wall, forming a puddle that spread across the rutted pavement like oil.
Suddenly, like two blinking eyes, a car flashed its lights in the distance. Marcus slowed and pulled alongside the other vehicle. The glass lowered and he waited for the other driver to speak.
“Everything’s set,” the driver said, his face hidden in the darkness of the other vehicle.
“Any issues?” Marcus asked.
“No, the little one was pretty upset. We gave them some nighttime remedy to help them sleep. The older one cooperated.”
“Good.”
Chloe’s heart thundered as worry turned crippling. She strained to see the driver’s face, but it remained hidden by the shadows. Marcus handed him an envelope that looked to be filled with cash.
Something Borrowed (New Castle Book 3) Page 20
