by Smyth, R. A
“He touched me and wouldn’t stop until I came,” I growl out, desperately wanting to be done with this conversation.
Barrett is the first to step away, moving to pace furiously across the warehouse floor. I feel his absence immediately.
I can hear him muttering something to himself, but I can feel myself checking out, closing in on myself. I can’t have survived all that to lose them now. The world fades away, my breaths coming in heaving gasps as I spiral, sinking deeper into an internal pit of despair.
I hear the guys around me, shouting at one another and calling to me. I can feel them shaking me, but it’s like we’re separated by a wall of water or something. Everything is muted and in slow motion, nothing actually registering with me.
Things only move back into focus when Barrett bends down, bringing his face within inches of mine, blocking out everything and everyone else in the room. He places his hands on either side of my face, but I can’t feel them. He says something to me, but again I can’t make out the words.
I watch as he takes deep breaths in and out, his shoulders lifting with each inhale and dropping when he expels the air from his lungs.
My body mimics him, automatically knowing what to do even though my brain has left the building. I breathe in when he does, holding it before letting it go. Our breaths mix in the small space between us as we repeat the action over and over again.
Slowly, my senses start to return. First, I feel his warm breath blowing across my lips, followed by his hands pressing lightly against my cheeks, the feel of his skin against mine grounding me. Barrett is here. He’s right in front of me. He didn’t walk away.
Sound begins to filter through next. I can hear the others murmuring somewhere nearby. I still can’t make out what they are saying, and I’m not sure if that’s because they are talking too quietly or if my brain won’t process their words.
Instead of worrying about it, I keep my focus solely on Barrett, watching his shoulders steadily rise and fall, his mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as the air filters in and out. His eyes shine with too much emotion for me to know what he’s thinking right now.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, watching one another, but when he stops breathing deeply I feel grounded once again.
“What happened?” He murmurs softly. His words are so quiet I know they are meant only for me, the others too far away to hear our whispered conversation. Barrett is still occupying my entire field of vision, so I don’t actually know where the others are right now. I doubt they’ve gone far, but I know they aren’t sitting on either side of me anymore. “Where did you go just now?”
“You left,” I whisper brokenly, not answering his question. My response probably doesn’t make any sense to him. My words hurt him, pain flashing across his features as he realizes his storming off triggered whatever just happened.
He closes his eyes for a second, shaking his head. “I didn’t...I wouldn’t.” He blows out a breath of air, frustration getting the better of him as he struggles to find the words. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what you thought,” he says, stroking his thumb across my cheek. “I was angry. I’m so fucking angry at him. At myself. We should have found you sooner. You shouldn’t have had to endure any of that.” He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine, needing a moment to collect himself. “My outburst had nothing to do with what you did,” he urges. “I’m so proud of you, Sophie.” He must see the confusion on my face as he smiles softly at me. “You did whatever it took to survive and get back to me, to us. I knew you were a fighter, baby girl, but the sheer depth of your inner strength blows me away.”
“What if you don’t want me after what I did?” I whisper, wanting desperately to cling to his words.
A megawatt smile spreads across his face, reminiscent of the first day we met, when he was just a nameless blue eyed Adonis. It’s totally out of contrast with the heavy topic of conversation and today’s events, yet seeing it on his handsome face gives me hope we can get back to some semblance of normality, where we aren’t surrounded by kidnappings, sexual assault and death.
“Not possible,” he tells me, “I will never not want you, Sophie Prescott.” His words are an echo of the same promise I made to Preston not long ago, and I know his vow is as true and heartfelt as mine was.
He doesn’t break eye contact with me, staring deeply into my eyes, making sure I know he means every word. I nod my head and, satisfied that I believe him, he moves away to sit on the sofa beside me, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his chest.
It baffles me how I find such comfort in his arms. From the very first time he held me, I’ve associated his embrace with the feeling of home, like I was born just to belong in his arms.
Seeing that Barrett brought me out of my spiral, the others turn to face me from where they were standing at the edge of the coffee table. Like I thought, they weren’t far. Just enough to give Barrett space to get through to me.
They each look me over, checking if I'm okay. Ty is the first to move, a smile gracing his face as he comes to sit beside Barrett on the sofa. He doesn’t leave an inch of space between them, pressing his body against Barrett’s so he can get as close as possible to me.
Barrett sighs at the intrusion to his personal space, but doesn’t tell him off. Ty leans in, kissing me cutely on the nose before lifting my legs onto his lap and running his hand up my calf. There’s nothing sexual about the movement. It’s more like he needs to touch me to reassure himself that I’m actually here, relatively unharmed.
I reach out my hand to him, intertwining our fingers, squeezing tightly and letting him know I need that reassurance as much as he does.
Preston and Aiden move to sit on the coffee table, the four of them once again circling me.
“You were covered in blood when we found you,” Aiden starts. As difficult as it’s going to be to talk about killing Kurt, I’m glad to move on from our previous discussion. “Barrett has assured us none of it is yours,” he continues. His eyes once again flick over my skin, needing to check for himself that I don’t have any gaping wounds. I don’t, none that are visible on my skin, anyway.
“It wasn’t,” I assure him, his body visibly relaxing at my words. “It was Kurt’s blood. I, uh, killed him.” I thought saying the words out loud would make it more real. I expected to be wracked with guilt, freaking out at the fact I’d taken someone else’s life, regardless of how deserving it was, but I’m not. Maybe I’m still in shock, but I feel nothing.
A moment of silence follows my words, as they all once again exchange looks over my head.
“Are you, umm, sure?” Preston asks.
I snort a cold, dark laugh, not an ounce of humour in it. “Definitely. I drove a needle into his eye, then slit his throat with a shard of glass.”
Preston’s eyes widen in shock. Even Aiden’s eyes show surprise and something else...is that pride? He’s proud that I stood up for myself and killed the sick fuck. God, we’re a messed up bunch.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s my girl!” Ty smiles beside me, a similar expression of pride on his face as there is on Aiden’s.
We lapse into silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts, all of them processing what I’ve told them tonight.
“We should all try to get some sleep,” Preston suggests after a while. The guys all mumble words of agreement. They each look as exhausted as I feel.
Preston gets up and begins pulling blankets and spare pillows out of the cupboard while Aiden and Ty move the coffee table.
I watch on in confusion as they set up what looks like a bed using the couch cushions. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to agree on who gets to stay with you tonight. This way we can all be close by,” Ty explains.
I’m definitely not about to argue with that. The thought of having them all right beside me sounds perfect.
Chapter 30
Sophie’s out like a light the minute her head hits the pillow, n
estled between Ty and I. She looks so peaceful, if you ignore the mottled bruising on her cheek and fingerprint marks on her neck. The fact she can sleep at all after what she’s just been through settles some of the raging anger within me.
I’m so fucking proud of her. Not only for surviving, but for coming back to us. She’s battered and battle-worn, in shock and processing everything she went through, but she’s still in there. I have every confidence that she has the strength to accept the things she had to do and come to terms with them. With time, she will fully heal and we will be there for her, every step of the way, all of us.
It won’t be easy. Simply watching her in Barrett’s arms when we first found her nearly drove me fucking crazy. I wanted to tear him off her and hold on to her myself. I wanted to shoot the fucker when he just stormed off into the bathroom with her and wouldn’t let us in to see her. I just needed to know she was okay, but of course she’s not fucking okay right now.
The only thing that kept me sane enough to not break down the bathroom door, was knowing that Barrett loves her as much as I do. I knew he would take care of her, and honestly; I knew he was the best person to be with her in those first moments. Barrett is the softest of us all, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. If any of the rest of us had been in that bathroom, we wouldn’t have had a clue what to do. We would probably have made things worse, demanding she talk to us or holding ourselves back from touching her, scared of hurting her further. Ultimately, I know we would have only done further damage. Barrett intuitively knows what she needs, and he’s not afraid to face such heavy emotions and traumatic experiences head on. He’s the only one who could have broken through that numb, unresponsive state she was in when we picked her up on the road. For that, I am so fucking thankful.
“We need to go check out the house she was staying at tomorrow,” Aiden whispers into the darkness after we’ve all been silently listening to Sophie’s soft, steady breathing for a good fifteen, twenty minutes. “Preston, you should come with me.”
“Not a fucking chance,” I reply instantly. “I just got her back, I’m not fucking leaving her.” My hand, which is draped over her waist, instinctively tightens around her, and she unconsciously presses back into me, seeking comfort.
Aiden growls at my defiance, but fuck him. He might be okay to part with her so soon, but I’m fucking not. She’s never leaving my sight again. Every fucking time I look away, something bad happens to her.
“We’ll look after her. The crime scene needs to be dealt with before anyone stumbles across it,” Ty tries to reassure me, but I don’t give a shit. I know she will be safe here with them, but I’m still not fucking leaving her.
“Come on, man, you and I both know we won’t be any help just hanging around here tomorrow. Barrett and Ty are the best ones to comfort her and keep her distracted, but you and I, we can help in our own way. We can get rid of Kurt and any evidence that puts her in that house, so no one can tie her to his death. We can help by making sure she never sees the inside of a jail cell for simply defending herself.”
Fuck, he’s right. I know he’s fucking right, but it doesn’t make the thought of leaving her any easier. Sighing heavily, I admit defeat. “Fine,” I growl out.
We lapse into silence and it’s not long before I drift off to sleep myself, the exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with me. My arm is draped over Sophie, my front pressed against her back, serving as the big spoon while she molds herself to me, resting her head on Ty’s chest. I don’t even give a fuck that my hand is wedged between her body and Ty’s. I’m just so fucking glad to have her back in my arms.
Aiden and I sneak out early the next morning to head back to the mansion where that fucker was keeping Sophie. I can’t believe she’s been this close this whole time. Right under our fucking noses and we were completely clueless.
I’ve got no idea who the house belongs to. My PI sent me through a list of Chadwick owned properties, but where he was keeping Sophie wasn’t on it. Not that I give a shit now who owns the damn place. It’s clearly sitting empty and unused if he was able to keep her there for nearly a week without anyone stumbling across her. Either way, it’s not going to be standing for much longer.
I look around as we pull up to the property. The gate is wide open as we drive through it and come to a stop in the driveway. Glancing around, I don’t see any other cars around or signs of life. I get out of the car, finding the front door to the property lying wide open, probably from when Sophie fled yesterday.
Just in case someone is snooping around, I approach the door carefully, following behind Aiden, handgun in hand, safety off. My gun is raised as we step through the entrance into the foyer, my eyes scanning the open space, but the room is empty. Not only is there no one there, but there’s no furniture either. The foyer is completely bare.
Not wanting to linger, we quickly cross to the stairs and ascend them. I head for the first door, opening and quickly casting my eyes around the empty room. Aiden moves to do the same on the opposite side of the hall and we make our way from room to room, opening doors to empty bedrooms until I hear Aiden call out to me from across the hall.
Following the sound of his voice, I enter the last room at the end of the hall, freezing when I see the sight before me. Damn, my girl did this? I’m fucking impressed at her strength, and equally fucking furious that she had to do this, alone.
Kurt is lying, obviously dead, on the bed, bathed in his own blood, his eyes, well his one good eye, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Aiden is already standing over him, inspecting our girl’s handiwork. He’s got a proud smile on his face, completely unfazed by the dead, decaying corpse in front of him.
I step up beside him, taking a closer look at the fine object jammed deep in his eye and the gaping wound right across his neck. Sophie wasn’t taking any chances, that’s for sure. The jagged slash across his neck goes from just under his left ear all the way around to his right, leaving no room for error. She was making damn sure he was dead before she left here.
Flicking my eyes away from the dead body, I take in the rest of the room, noticing the handcuffs wrapped around the headboard. My teeth grind, knowing the fucker kept her chained to the bed, vulnerable and at his mercy. That always present anger within me starts to build up again, and damn I wish I could bring the fucker back to life just so I could beat the ever loving shit out of him and kill him myself.
Besides the bed, there is a chair facing out the window, but nothing else. Blood has drenched the bed sheets and splattered on the floor and walls, looking garish against all the white.
“How are we doing this?” I ask, not wanting to be here any longer than necessary. I don’t want to think about the heinous shit that fucker did to my girl, knowing I can’t fucking kill him for it myself.
“We lift anything that was hers, wipe down the surfaces, then we burn it all to the ground.” Now that’s a plan I can get on board with.
I move to step away and do as he said, when he stops me with a hand on my chest. “Here,” he says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out two pairs of black gloves. He hands one set over to me. “So you don’t leave any fingerprints.” I nod, pulling them on as I make my way across the room into the bathroom.
Shards of the bathroom mirror break under my heavy feet as I step into the room. The floor is littered with pieces of all sizes. Ignoring it, I scan my eyes around the small space, finding a set of lingerie, but nothing else clothing wise. My blood boils as I realize he kept her here in just her underwear this whole time. She may have mentioned that last night, but it seemed like a minor detail compared to the other bombs she was dropping on us. Like the fact the sick fuck forced her to come for him. I still can’t wrap my head around that.
I can’t even begin to understand how that must be messing with her head. I didn’t miss the look of guilt or shame as she told us last night, but I don’t hold any of it against her. She did what she had to to survive. Every last drop of the blame lies fir
mly with Kurt. He’s the one that put her in that fucked up situation, forcing her to give him something she never wanted to share, something that’s only meant to be experienced between the five of us.
I grab the lingerie and a towel, quickly wiping down all the surfaces before I snap and tear apart the entire fucking bathroom. Once I’m satisfied that there are no other traces of Sophie in the room, I storm out of the bathroom, just as the bedroom door opens and Aiden walks back in, carrying two large cans of gasoline. It clearly isn’t his first trip to the car, as another two cans are already sitting in the middle of the room.
Opening one, he pours the entire contents over Kurt and the bed. Grabbing another, I repeat the process, pouring the liquid over every surface in the room and dousing the carpet, relishing in the pungent smell as it permeates the room to toxic levels. I do the same in the bathroom, splashing it up the walls, over the counter, the floor, until the room is covered in it and my can is empty.
Unfortunately, we don’t have enough to cover the entire house, but it’s plenty to ensure Kurt’s body is incinerated, and any evidence is destroyed.
When we’re done, we share a look of solidarity, united in our cause to prevent our girl from experiencing any more trauma. We both need this as much as she does. I feel his rage as deeply as my own, the need for vengeance and blood.
While I’m stupidly proud of Sophie, I needed his life to end in my hands. Even now, they itch to wrap themselves around his throat, to watch the life drain out of his eyes. This will have to do. Knowing we’re sending him burning into the pits of hell and eradicating his body from existence will have to be enough.
Using the last of the gasoline to soak a towel, Aiden flicks open his lighter, holding it to the wet end and watching as it ignites. He drops it onto Kurt’s soaked body and we watch as the flames lick their way across his skin, scorching and charring his flesh as it consumes everything in its wake.
