by Hera August
Tears fall down her face, uncontrolled, and instantly she despises her weakness. She mentally scolds herself for breaking. Now is not the time. Belle takes several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Because of Judas, she is going to fight; she is going to do whatever it takes to stay alive.
She tests the ropes, pulling her hands tight against the burn of the fibers with all her strength. Pain shoots through her wrists, up her arms. She bites her tongue to stop from screaming.
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to escape.”
“What're you doing? Why have you tied me up?”
“Because... I know how much you love to be dominated.” His eyes are like flint as they rove up and down her body, examining her like she’s a carcass hanging from a meat-hook. “I knew you’d come back for me, Petal.”
“What? I-I didn’t come back for you, Emmett.”
“Trying hard to get? Huh?” He snorts. “You and I both know you’re begging for any man to fuck you.” He approaches her. Belle shrinks away from him as he bends over her, smirking. “You always did look best in white panties. It’s why I left them on,” he muses, his voice echoing through the attic. The sound seems to come from all around her, completely unnerving Belle. Her tummy lurches and her mind goes into overdrive. She will gouge his eyes out, punch him in the throat, bite him when she’s free from her prison. But then her thoughts are distracted. There’s something in his left hand...
Oh God... a knife.
“You don’t need to be afraid, Isabelle. I’m going to take care of you. After all, we are to be married.” His voice is still disembodied by the darkness. “But you’re scared, aren’t you? Scared because he brainwashed you.”
She shudders at his touch. Marriage? He’s completely lost it.
She has to get out of here. But she doesn’t know how she can escape. He has a knife and her body is still wrecked from the drug in her system. She isn’t getting out of this alive, is she? Belle closes her eyes and tries to focus, pushing her fears aside.
Judas… I need you.
“Let me go, p-please,” Belle says, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. The attic is so dark, she can hardly see Emmett’s face. She hears shallow breaths and a whisper, a whisper so quiet she can’t quite hear it. “Emmett, I-I can't hear you.”
He takes a step closer. “I said, you're mine.” He comes closer and Belle reminds herself to breathe. “You are so beautiful. Especially in candlelight.”
Her mouth is dry, her tongue feels heavy with salt. She needs to play nice with him. It’s the only chance she has to stay alive. “Why don’t you untie me. My arms really hurt, Emmett.”
He crouches down at her feet. His thick cologne suffocates her and she coughs. Her throat feels like it's on fire.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Petal.” His hand molests the inside of her thigh. His palm is like sandpaper and she yanks up her legs, trying to squirm away from him. It’s no use.
Shaking his head, he unties the ropes at her feet first and then her wrists. Belle crosses her arms over her exposed breasts, rubbing her upper arms. He reaches across her and she shrinks away, but he grabs hold of her hand and tugs her up to a standing position. Her legs feel like jelly and she has to lean on him for support. A curdling shiver strikes straight into her spine.
Belle looks over at the door. She can kick him in the balls, push him over, make a break for it. But her arms are so sore and weak and she can’t no for certain if he locked the attic door. Before she can decide to act, though, he drags her to the futon where Judas had once slept.
Her sleeping beast.
Please, Judas, save me. Break down the door and save me!
Judas will save her… As delirious and impossible as that idea is, it is the only thing she can hold on to.
Wishful thinking.
A miracle.
Emmett heads over to the door and picks something up from the floor. When he returns at her side, he opens a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses. He takes a sip from his glass, then lifts the other glass and puts it to Belle’s lips. She declines but he thrusts the glass against her face and forces her to partake in his sick games. The red liquid pours down her face, spilling onto her neck, her breasts and then her thighs. The liquid feels thick like blood. It even tastes bloody. She chokes down a few mouthfuls but it doesn't put out the fire in her throat.
Maybe this can numb the pain…
He suddenly grabs her by the throat, and her glass smashes to the floor. “I want to taste you.”
“Wh-What?” she can hardly speak. Hardly breathe. He isn’t killing her. Not yet.
“Let me show you, Petal.” His hand releases her and strokes her cheek with his claw-like finger. He sips his wine, then leans forward, pressing his lips against hers. Belle fights to keep her mouth closed, but he digs his nails into the side of her face, hard, and her lips are forced open.
The wine seems scolding hot, from his mouth into hers. She wants to spit it onto his face, but she is so weak and all she can do is comply. Swallow. Another wave of nausea rolls through her and it takes what little strength she has left to not puke.
“You like it, don’t you, Petal?” he says, pulling away. “Let’s try it with my cock. I know you’re begging for it.” Belle nods but her stomach churns and tears roll down her cheeks. Her skin is covered in goose-bumps, even though she feels as hot as the Sun. His hand trails up her thigh and begins to play with her panties. With sudden force, he rips at them. Belle screams knowing what evil is coming next.
He slaps her. “Shut up!” he shouts in her face. But she can’t stop sobbing. “Shut the fuck up!” He stands up as though this isn’t going as he planned and stomps over toward the door.
This is her chance. Her only chance.
Grabbing the bottle of wine, Belle stands up, nearly loses her balance as the room seems to revolve, and for a second, she thinks she’s going to fall. But somehow she fights through the pain and nausea and gets to the window fast, throwing the bottle. She hears the attic window smash into pieces only seconds later. It's all she can do.
Someone must have heard it breaking. And then they will call the police, thinking it's a robbery…
It's her only hope.
Emmett grips her hair from behind and yanks her back. “You stupid bitch!” He pulls so hard that some of her hair rips right out of her scalp. She screams. The pain is searing, making her vision flash white as she stumbles against the floor. He kneels over her, spreading her legs. She fights him every step of the way, but it only serves to both excite and anger him more.
“I’m going to take you in both holes until you bleed, Petal,” he says, pressing the blade across her throat. "Punishment for fucking that bastard scum."
Belle feels the skin give way to the blade, the steel cutting her flesh, a small ribbon of blood running down her throat. She feels his breath hot against her face as he mutters, "Don’t disappoint me again," pressing the knife tighter against her throat. "Not one fucking sound," he warns, before sliding the knife from her throat. “You’re going to regret disobeying me. I’ve been too nice, too gentle with you. You need to be shown your place, Isabelle.”
This is it. This is how it’s going to end and there is nothing she can do.
But she will never stop fighting.
For Judas.
For herself.
Belle spits in Emmett’s face, wishing she could bite a particular limb off instead. “I’d rather burn in Hell than have you touch me again! I'll keep fighting, you bastard!”
Emmett looks down at her, his eyes gleaming. "That was against the rules," he hisses. "Now you'll have to be punished—twice.” He punches her, hard, on the side of her stomach.
Someone had to have heard the window shatter.
They had to.
Or she is going to die.
Chapter Forty-Four
SOMETHING WORTH FIGHTING FOR.
Belle Dela Cruz.
That’s what she had been for Judas.
>
But he’s the Devil incarnate and she’s... she’s an angel.
He’s such a bastard.
Sitting on his Dyna, his eyes lock on to the house where it all began, looking for the answer, remembering the night that changed everything.
Judas sits, motionless, his heart aching with regret.
I should’ve never let you go, Little Bit…
When he returned home last night, Abruzzi offered to join forces with Judas, just as he’d expected. He’s now a powerful crime lord. He’s right at the top. Judas finally has everything he’s been striving for in life.
Except…
Everything he’s done has always been about climbing to the top of the chain and you can’t get more higher than Abruzzi. But when Abruzzi went on about their endless stream of power, all the territory they now owned and controlled, all Judas could think about was how this life isn’t him anymore.
Not since Belle saved him.
He sees the world differently now.
Because of her.
The crime world is—was—his life. When he left Belle, he truly believed he could return to that life as if nothing had changed. But it has.
Belle’s kindness, her compassion, her enigmatic beauty—it has all gotten under his skin, seeped right into his very bones.
Looking up at the attic window, he fantasizes about finding her. Tracking her down—like she had once done with him—to start a new life with her. Maybe that’s what made him detour here in the first place. But he wants the best for Belle. He wants her to move on and go to college, become the best doctor that he knows she will be. And the only way for that to happen, is if he stays away from her.
He will only drag her down.
Judas goes to gun up the engine, ready to meet Tate by the—
The fuck was that?
The sound of glass shattering stops him from leaving.
His eyes dart straight up. The attic window has been smashed through. And…
What in the hell is that?
A shadow moves in the attic window for a spilt second. He sees a face. The muscles in his arms jump, his hands clamp around the bike’s handlebars.
Belle... The fuck...?
A low guttural sound emanates from his throat and he doesn’t wait to think about what to do next. He jumps off his bike and sprints straight to the house. The door is slightly ajar and he enters with caution.
The house is dark. All the lights are off and he can barely see anything. He draws his gun, hearing a muffled bang from upstairs like something heavy has fallen over.
Then Belle's scream shatters the silence, breaking something inside of him.
Belle.
He tears through the darkness, racing up the stairs, his gun sweeping every corner until he reaches the attic door. He holds his breath when he hears the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Belle screams again and his vision goes red. He tries the handle of the door. It’s locked.
Fuck!
Backing up, he kicks the door hard, shattering the frame. The door bursts inward and Judas fills with white-hot rage when he sees what lurks in the attic.
Emmett Irving is crouching over Belle, clutching a bloody knife in his hands.
And Belle... she's naked.
“Judas,” she barely breathes out.
Her eyes watch him as if she’s seeing a ghost. Her lip is split and she’s bleeding from several visible wounds. Emmett turns his head to look at him.
Judas has never once run from a fight. He knows how to handle a bad situation; it's what he’s trained to do. He promised to keep Belle safe.
He isn't about to break that promise today.
"Get the fuck away from her!" Judas roars, leveling his gun. Emmett smirks, ignoring Judas completely and turns his attention back to Belle. Emmett slips behind her, using her as a shield, and forces her to her knees as he draws the knife to her throat.
“Belle…” Her name escapes from Judas’ lips before he even feels them move. Emmett’s face twists into a horrifying smile. Belle struggles, but doesn't put up much of a fight. She looks weak, like she’s been drugged.
"Move back right now or she's dead!" Emmett shouts, dragging the knife down Belle’s throat, his fingers tightening on the handle. Judas stands still, his gun aimed, his eyes searching for a clear shot. Fear tightens in his chest, his heart feels like it’s clamped in a vise.
He will die before anyone hurts his Belle.
His Little Bit.
Judas has thought about this moment many times; the moment where it all ends. He’s been an enforcer for most of his adult life; there’s no way to get around the possibility that one day it will happen in his line of work.
But Belle… she is what’s worth dying for.
"Drop the knife," Judas commands. "There's no way you're walking out of here." His finger tightens on the trigger a fraction-of-an-inch. "Let her go now and maybe your death will be short," Judas warns, teeth clenched, his eyes flicking back and forth between Belle and her captor.
Belle’s eyes are half-lidded, her mouth moves but no sound comes out. Judas concentrates on her lips, trying to understand what she's telling him.
Shoot.
She’s begging for him to shoot.
Judas shakes his head faintly. Fuck, he still doesn’t have a clean shot and there’s no fucking way he’s going to shoot through her.
"Fuck you! You're in no position to make demands," Emmett seethes, his eyes flashing with contempt. The hand that holds the knife scrapes down to Belle’s left breast, digging into her skin. Her eyes go wide with pain. Then his other hand snakes down across her stomach, slithering lower and lower, until it reaches her opening. He gropes her with his fingers, causing her to cry out. It takes all of Judas’ strength not to charge at Emmett like an angry bull.
“Don’t,” Judas rasps.
"I'm the one in charge here," Emmett says, his eyes dancing with excitement.
Belle looks terrified and Judas feels rage surge through him. The familiar emotion swells through his veins, his blood boils with hatred.
"You're a dead man!" Judas seethes, his grip on his gun tightening until his fingers are white. "You hear me?" he grinds out. "You're dead!" His eyes lock with Belle’s.
He feels her—more than hears—speak his name, "Judas..." It comes out like a tiny sob, a desperate plea for help, tearing at his heart.
Judas tears his eyes away from hers, unable to bare the pain he sees there. Emmett watches him, his eyes glint and his mouth twists in an obscene smirk.
"She belongs to me," Emmett says, as he drags Belle to her feet and forces her to rise with him.
Judas feels his stomach lurch at the look on Emmett Irving's face. He looks like a child who’s gotten exactly what they wanted for Christmas.
Judas’ blood runs cold when a shocked gasp bursts from between her lips. Emmett chuckles, his lips twisting into a demonic smile. "This, should be fun," Emmett continues. “You can watch. Find out what Belle really needs from a man.”
Judas searches for a clean shot, his lips pursing. Emmett begins to force Belle backwards, closer to the broken window.
Is he planning to escape through the window? Or… is he going to push Belle out?
"I will kill you!" Judas roars, his adrenaline running like wildfire.
This is his worst nightmare come true.
His father had tied him up at just seven-years-old, forced Judas to watch him rape and murder his own mother. Said it would toughen him up, make him man enough to take over the family empire one day.
Ever since that dark day, Judas vowed to never let that happen again. He’s trained in firearms since he was thirteen. Moments like these is what Judas Bane is renowned for.
Judas takes a step forward, his gun extends in front of him, his hand holding the gun steady.
There is no chance in Hell that bastard will kill her. No chance at all.
And Emmett knows it.
Emmett’s head tilts away from Belle’s. Judas has the shot. He lines
it up and his finger tightens just as the darkness surrounds his whole world.
Judas sees it a split-second too late.
Emmett’s hand seems to move in slow-motion as it arcs down, carrying the knife with it. Judas fires his gun twice, both rounds hitting Emmett in the chest.
But the damage has already been done.
Emmett’s face turns to look at Judas, and Emmett actually has the nerve to smirk. Judas fires one last time. This time, the bullet penetrates the center of Emmett’s forehead. He crashes to the floor, his evil smile still splashed across his face.
Judas looks at Belle in horror, feeling the life drain from him. Belle lays slumped on the attic floor, her blood seeping everywhere.
And a five-inch blade juts from her chest.
Chapter Forty-Five
“NO!”
Judas feels the ground crumble beneath his feet as his world crashes around him. The seconds that pass, as he races to her side, feel like an eternity.
"Belle!" he cries out, falling to his knees beside her. "Belle, can you hear me?" There is so much blood; her naked flesh is soaked with it. Judas’ hands slide up her arms, slick with blood.
He’s afraid to move her, afraid the knife may shift. He can’t pull it out. It’s likely that the knife is slowing the blood loss, temporarily capping the wound. Pulling it out will only aggravate it and make her bleed out sooner.
Belle's eyes flutter open and she gasps, her breathing becoming increasingly ragged. "Judas?" she says, her eyes searching for him.
"I'm right here," he assures her, taking off his leather jacket and placing it gingerly underneath her head to support her. He grabs the blanket nearby, the same one she had given him, and covers her trembling naked body as much as possible, making sure not to shift the knife.
Leaning over her, he brushes away the hair that hides her face. "I'm going to call for help," he tells her, reaching for his cell. "Just stay with me. Stay with me, Belle," he says, his voice panicking as her eyes begin to slide shut. “Belle?”
He breathes a sigh of relief when her eyes once again focus on him. "I need an ambulance at 103 Briarheart Lake. Someone’s been stabbed. We’re in the attic. Hurry!" He tosses his phone aside, ignoring the answering chatter, and returns his full attention to Belle.
