by Sophia Gray
“Stop fucking struggling!” he barked at her, his tone whiney and impatient.
And she did stop, but not because he ordered her to. Her wide, sparkling blue eyes had landed on me. She looked bewildered, almost as though she’d seen a ghost, but there was no doubt the relief that shone in them.
All of this happened within seconds. The man—it was Shawn, I realized with disgust—telling her not to struggle, Madeline freezing, the door slamming to the ground. I crossed the room in an instant, reaching for Shawn, just as he finally turned to see what had happened to the door. He had a millisecond to catch sight of me, for his eyes to go wide with astonishment, before I jerked him by the collar up and off of Madeline.
I ripped him away, throwing him to the floor away from the bed. Madeline scrambled away immediately then, her hands massaging her wrists before clutching at her exposed chest. She watched me, still full of disbelief and relief and something else that I didn’t have time to think about or place. I was too focused on the piece of scum at my feet.
It didn’t take a genius to guess what he’d been about to do to her, and it made my blood boil. I felt heat and rage flood my body until I was pounding with it, energy in the form of white-hot rage fueling my movements and pushing me forward. I watched almost detached from myself as I grabbed Shawn by the collar of his shirt with my left hand as I cocked my right one back. When it made contact with his face, there was a sickening crack. Red splattered the floor and marred his face. I’d broken his nose, but it wasn’t enough. I hit him again, this time the sound squelching and wet. I hit him again. And again. And again.
I couldn’t say how many times my fist made contact; I didn’t really care. All I knew was that he had to pay and hitting him was the closest thing to calming the rage.
I didn’t stop until Madeline whispered my name.
“Nikolai.”
Coming back to myself, shaking with adrenaline and the remnants of ager still coursing through my system, I let Shawn drop back to the floor. He was unconscious, his face resembling raw hamburger meat. Assuming I hadn’t done too-permanent damage to him, he’d definitely take time to heal and probably needed a doctor to fix up his face. At the very least set his nose.
I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for it, either.
Breathing heavily, I straightened myself up and turned to face Madeline. She’d gotten up off the bed and was now standing there, staring at me. I felt a flicker of worry rush through me. Was she disgusted with that display of violence? Probably. But I thought that was for the best.
It was important for her to know who I was, and just what she was getting herself into.
We stared at each other for a long while. I noticed her body was trembling, her eyes flooded with unshed tears, and without saying a word, I reached for her. She came willingly as I pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around her. As soon as she was safe in my embrace, she began to cry. Heavy, wracking sobs crashed through her body. She shook and trembled and sobbed in my arms. And for a moment, I gave her that. I let her cry, stroking her hair and letting her do what she needed to do.
Finally, when she began to settle, at least to the point where I could speak to her, I asked, “What are you doing here? What happened?”
The tears came again at my question, but she managed to get words out between hiccupping sobs. “I was sure you were dead,” she bawled. “H-he said y-you were dead. H-he said—” She broke off in a fit of more sobbing.
I stared at her. She thought I was dead? That seemed odd. Why would she think that unless Logan—
He’d told her.
My blood ran cold at the thought that he told her such a thing. What would be the point of that?
“He said he killed you.” Her small arms wrapped around my middle, holding me tightly as she could muster.
“Clearly, he was wrong,” I managed to get out, my voice sounding too harsh, too gruff. But she didn’t seem to notice. She just continued to hold tightly to me.
After a moment, I asked again, “But what are you doing here?”
Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled back to look up at me. I could see regret and guilt lying there and braced myself for the worse. She worried at her bottom lip—a habit I’d grown to adore—before finally telling me, “I—I ran away. We did.” She glanced at Shawn as she said this, but only for a moment. Her eyes moved away quickly from his prone form as though the mere sight of him made her feel queasy. Maybe it did. Looking at me again, she continued. “He told me you threatened him. That…that you said you’d kill him.” She sucked in a deep breath, then added, “And that you’d kill me, too.”
Shock raced through me.
What? Of all the insane things I’d heard recently, that one was probably top of the list. Shawn, I had definitely threatened. In fact, I wasn’t all that opposed to killing him. But Madeline? Even if she walked away from me, if she truly and honestly never wanted anything to do with me ever again, I would never wish her harm like that.
After a moment, shock was replaced by hurt. “You thought I would do that?”
Her blue eyes grew watery again and she frantically shook her head. “No. I mean, I was scared and Shawn was scared, so I thought he was being honest. But I hoped it was some sort of mistake, but you’re a hit man and then—” She was rambling, babbling. Shaking her head, she sucked in a breath and finished, “I knew I was wrong as soon as we got here. I was wrong about everything. You’d never do anything to hurt me.”
Something tense eased within my body and when she fell against me again, I wrapped my own arms around her, clutching at her almost desperately.
Chapter 29
Madeline
Shock was putting it mildly. Everything in my system seemed out of whack, off balance. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time and I was left wondering just how my life got so very crazy.
I was wrapped tightly in Nikolai’s arms, clinging to him as though he were a ghost and might disappear any moment, as though my holding him was the only thing tethering him to this world.
Which, of course, was ridiculous. Nikolai was here, flesh and blood. His body was hard and warm, his heart a thundering drumbeat in my ear, his breath feathering across my golden hair. What seemed like only moments before I had thought he was dead. Fully and truly.
I shuddered at the thought.
Imagining Nikolai bleeding somewhere in a ditch was one of the worst things I’d ever conjured in my head and I was sure, alive or not, it would haunt me for a very long thing. And it wasn’t the only thing that would haunt me.
Of their own accord, my gaze slithered down to Shawn, lying unconscious on the floor. His face was beaten and bloody, so disfigured in that moment—swollen, covered in blood, his nose at the wrong sort of angle to be natural—that I wouldn’t have even been able to recognize him if I hadn’t known it was him.
Which wasn’t so far from the truth in the first place. If anything, I didn’t recognize him. Not in how he looked now or what he had tried to do just seconds before. My skin crawled at the thoughts of what Nikolai had interrupted.
The gun was aimed at me. Shakily, yes, but there was no question that the barrel was leveled at my chest and it was clutched in his hand. How could my best friend be threatening me?
“Shawn, what are you doing?” I asked, my chest constricting, my heart hurting with the weight of knowledge. The knowledge that my brother was something awful. That my friend was threatening me. And, worst of all, that Nikolai was out there somewhere, dying or maybe already dead.
I winced at the thought, the pain growing in my chest.
Shawn was visibly sweating, his upper lip coated with it, his brow pebbled with little beads of it. He licked his lip, wiping away that line of sweat. I imagined the gross, salty taste and cringed. After a moment, he answered, “Logan said you need to stay here. He told me—he told me I need to keep you here.” He made an unpleasant face, like he wasn’t all that happy with how things were going, but he didn’t seem
to think there was any other choice. “So…just, come back to the bed.”
I stared at him, my eyes impossibly wide, my face a mask of complete and utter shock. How could he be doing this? “What?” I asked, my brain not really comprehending.
He licked his lips again. They looked really dry, cracked in places. “I said, come back to the bed. Now.” He had begun to put more force into his voice, and I sensed something had changed. He’d made a decision. One that I wasn’t going to like.
“Shawn,” I whispered, feeling the desperation creep up along my spine and into my throat. “We need to go. Logan…Logan has lost it. He killed a man!” Two men, I thought gravely, thinking of Nikolai. But I knew I couldn’t bring him up. I couldn’t, because it would tear my heart to shreds to keep thinking of him dead, but also because I knew that wouldn’t go over well with Shawn.
Finally, it occurred to me that Shawn lied. Nikolai wasn’t after us. Or at least, he wasn’t after me.
“Doesn’t matter,” Shawn said. He stood up from the bed, suddenly looking too tall and menacing, not at all like the young man whom I’d considered my best friend for all of our lives. When had things changed so much?
He motioned with the gun for me to go back to the bed. “Get on the bed, Madeline. Now.”
It suddenly occurred to me how bad of a situation this was. This Shawn was being ruled by something I didn’t recognize and it wasn’t just fear, though there was certainly some of that. There was something else going on in his head, and it seemed like an awful thing.
I had to comply. He was being so erratic; I didn’t know what he would do if I didn’t listen. So, I slowly moved back to the bed, doing my best to not act afraid, though I most definitely was. His eyes flashed with something dark that I didn’t like. As I moved to stand beside the bed, he seemed to get a sudden idea.
“Take off your shirt.”
My eyes went wide. “What?”
“You heard me. Take it off.” He was still holding the gun and now we were much closer. There was no chance he’d miss if he fired it at me. When I didn’t move to comply with his ‘order,’ he motioned with the gun again. “I said take it off!”
I flinched as his voice rose in volume. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to take off my shirt, and I didn’t want to think about why he was asking me to. I didn’t want to think about that dark look in his eyes…
But with trembling, numb fingers, I reached the hem of my shirt. I closed my eyes shut, fighting back a surge of tears, and jerked the shirt over my head. Sucking in a shuddering breath, I opened my eyes when he’d yet to give me further commands.
I saw him staring at me. His eyes were locked onto my breasts, which were starting to grow from my pregnancy, becoming too large for my regular bras now. I was practically spilling from it and I cringed at how hungrily he was staring at me.
Nausea swept through me. I knew what that look was now; I knew what he wanted. And it was awful.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered, motioning again with the gun.
I almost shook my head, thought about fighting him off, but I knew with that gun, it would be all over in minutes. And I could no longer trust the thought that Shawn, my best friend, wouldn’t shoot me. This wasn’t the man I knew. All bets were off.
Trembling, I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. The tears had started to fill my eyes, blurring my vision and I knew it wouldn’t be long before they fell.
I saw Shawn’s left hand, the one not holding the gun, go to the fly of his jeans. I felt bile rise in my throat and had to work not to throw up. He was going to do this. He was actually going to force me to—
I couldn’t finish the thought.
My brain worked feverishly to try to come up with a way out of there. Maybe I could knock the gun away and make a break for the door. Probably not, though. Shawn was faster than he looked and I already knew he was stronger than I was. And even if I did manage to get out, where would I go? Maybe the guy at the front desk would help me—or maybe not. He didn’t seem to care much.
And Shawn had the keys to the car. If I tried to run, it would be on foot. He’d catch me in a heartbeat.
Dread filled me as he yanked down his zipper. I looked away so I wouldn’t have to see the evidence of his arousal—how could he be turned on by this?
Clenching my eyes shut, I begged him, “Please, Shawn, don’t do this.” It was barely even a whisper and he ignored it completely.
My eyes were still closed when I felt the shove on my shoulders. I fell back onto the bed and Shawn’s body followed me instantly, laying himself on top of me. The tears were finally falling and I was shaking my head. Panic swarmed me. This was happening. This was happening and he had a gun and what was I going to do?
I started to struggle, a sudden thought entering my head: I won’t let him have me.
Yes, he had a gun. Yes, I would probably die if I didn’t let him rape me. But, damnit, I’d rather be dead than raped.
I bucked at him and started slapping at his shoulders and arms, tried to shove him off of me. But it was hopeless. He grunted and cursed, but he wouldn’t get off of me. He managed to get a hold of my arms, pinning them above my head. All I’d succeeded in doing was annoying him. “Bitch,” he breathed. “You’ve always been a bitch. Never even bothered to see the nice guy right in front of you. No, it was all about the bad boy, wasn’t it? Well, is this bad enough for you?”
He held both of my wrists in one hand. I tried to jerk them free, but it was useless. His grip was surprisingly strong. He had finally tossed the gun aside. I would have been relieved except that I was still pinned down and now his free hand was undoing my pants, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties.
I screamed.
He didn’t care.
“Stop fucking struggling!”
And then the door came down. Nikolai appeared. And I wasn’t even sure I registered anything else. All I could think was: he’s alive.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, fighting back more sobs. I had to be calm and collected. I needed to be strong. And that seemed a lot easier now that Nikolai was here.
He shook his head. “No, don’t be. None of this is your fault.”
I let that sink in for a moment. Not my fault. That was a good thing. A good feeling to know that after all that had just happened—and before that, too—Nikolai didn’t think it was my fault. It eased something hard and cold in my chest, making it just a little bit easier to breathe.
“What do we do now?” I asked in just barely a whisper.
He pulled back a little bit, my body instantly noticing his missing heat, and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He glanced down at Shawn, his bright eyes flashing in fury. “We’ll have to do something about him.” He frowned, glancing between me and Shawn. “I suppose what we do depends on you.” He said that last bit stiffly, as though he didn’t like it, but was saying it because he felt duty bound to do so.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He let out a sigh. “I mean that he’s the father of your baby. If you want him around—” He shrugged, as though my answer was unimportant, but there was a flicker in his eyes that told me it was. Butterflies filled my stomach as I realized I had to tell him the truth. I didn’t know what he’d say, what he’d think after everything, but I needed him to know the truth of the matter.
I needed him to know how big of a lie I’d told him.
Sucking in a breath in hopes of steadying my nerves, I said what I’d been hiding for so long: “I lied.”
He looked at me uncertainly. His piercing blue eyes narrowed at me. “Lied about what?”
“About the baby.”
His expression faltered and there was a sudden and profound sadness left there in its wake. “You’re not pregnant?”
I blinked at him in surprise. That was not where I thought he would go with that. I shook my head at him. “No, I mean, yes, I’m pregnant. I mean I lied when I told you he was the father.” I couldn’t make m
yself look at Shawn much less say his name. “He’s not. I’ve…you’re the only man I’ve ever been with, Nikolai.” I hesitated, the final confession lingering on my lips uncertainly. Finally, I said in barely more than a whisper, “You’re the only man I want to be with. Just you.”
There was a moment of silence that spread between us, so deep, so stark that I thought I was too late. My confessions meant nothing now. I’d botched the whole thing up and I didn’t know what I would do and—
He jerked me to him, our chests colliding as he leaned down, his mouth seeking out mine. His kiss was hard, possessive, filled with the passion I’d always gotten from him. Not quite desperation, but so full of emotion and possession and need that it was undeniable.
I felt my arms go around his neck, my eyes fluttering shut as I fell against him, losing myself in that kiss. He held me to him tightly, his arms encasing me in strength and hard muscle, his hands on the small of my back and that spot between my shoulder blades to ensure I was going nowhere.
