by Jane Henry
Annabelle
The pitch black of night surrounded me, inky darkness broken only by moonlight reflected on the water. I knew to get back to my home I’d have to find the path, and the path that led to the village could be found if the ocean was at my left.
At least that’s what I remembered. It was hard to tell from the back of a limo.
When he’d screamed at me to leave, I took it literally, meaning he wanted me to leave his mansion, but as I walked in the dark, I realized that this was a man who’d bought me a cell phone, hated that I got too close to the edge of the cliff, and made sure I ate enough food at meals. He was overprotective and fearful. He never would have demanded I leave his home and flee into the darkness. He wanted me to go to my room, dammit.
I’d been a fool. But how was I supposed to know that? And who would’ve blamed me for leaving?
I kept seeing him smashing the vases, the crash of broken glass echoing in my ears. His rage was a live beast, howling and snarling, ready to tear its foes asunder.
My chest hurt from running, and I had a stitch in my side that would not quit. Perspiration dotted my forehead, and the thin dress I wore clung to my dampened skin. I stopped running. He was not in pursuit anyway.
Was he?
I heard a rustling behind me, but when I looked back, I couldn’t see anything. And Sawyer was the type that would make his presence known, not skulk about behind me. The cold night air rustled the skirt of my dress, tickling along the edge of my dampened skin. Goosebumps raised along my arms, and I shivered. I was freezing. I cocked my head to the side and still, saw nothing. I turned back around and charged on, determined to find the road that would lead me back to the village, to my mom, sister, and home.
I barely stifled a groan. I’d left. I’d broken our contract, and now everything he’d promised me would be null and void. I squeezed my eyes tight against rising emotions that threatened to consume me. How could I go back to what I’d left behind? My mom would have no more nurses visiting the house. Our bills would revert back to being unpaid. I’d have to go back to finding a way to make ends meet. Maybe I would take a second job. Or maybe…just maybe…if I asked him to take me back…
No. Clenching my jaw, moving toward what I thought had to be the path in front of me, somewhere in front of me, I kept going, kept moving. I could not go back, and surely if I pressed forward I would find what I needed to. I would figure out what to do in the morning, but tonight, I had to get to shelter and safety. I peeked over my shoulder just one last time. Though I was a good bit away now, I could see the outline of his enormous house, the windows lit up on the top floor, as if they were waiting for me.
Behind me lay some sort of twisted fantasy. In front of me lay my future.
But as I turned away from the house, I caught a glimmer of something metallic. Just about at my waist, not ten paces away, a shadow moved. I froze.
Was it him? Had he come for me? And if he had…what would he do when he found me?
I swallowed hard, inhaled, and spoke into the darkness. “Hello? Is someone there?”
I had nothing. No cell phone to light my way, no flashlight, not even the light of the damn moon. I swallowed hard and inhaled, raising my voice again, but louder this time. “Who’s there?”
As the clouds cleared the moon, three men stepped out before me. One held a pistol. The other a length of rope. And they were coming for me.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer
I needed to find her. Damn it all, it was cold and dark, and where the hell was she going? Panic rose, strong and wild within me, as I raced as fast as I could. I needed to protect her.
I didn’t want her to leave the fucking house.
I needed her to leave me, to leave my presence. And now she’d gone out into the darkness, and I know what I saw. Those men were in pursuit of her. Who were they? Why were they on my property to begin with? I grabbed a flashlight and my phone, and plunged into the darkness. She’d headed south, in the general direction of the town, but she was nowhere near the main road yet. With my height and knowledge of the grounds, I’d be able to find her. As I made my way toward where I’d seen her, my heartbeat kicked up. This was it. She was drawing me closer to the edge of the cliff, where my nightmares became realities, whether I liked it or not. In front of me rose sounds of a scuffle, voices, a low growl, and then I heard it. A high-pitched scream.
I’d kill them.
I ran toward the sounds, determined to find her, and when I broke through into a clearing, I saw her, but she wasn’t alone.
Annabelle lay on her back, held down by two men clad in black, while another stood over her.
He was going to hurt her.
And I was going to tear him apart, limb by limb.
With a roar that came from somewhere deep inside me, I attacked.
“Get your filthy hands off her!” I roared, crashing my way toward her. I’d never taken on three grown men by myself, but I’d try, damn it.
I lifted back the heavy flashlight and when I was near enough, I cracked it against the skull of the man whose hands were on her, the one I needed to harm first. The flashlight was easily the size of a police man’s club, long and heavy, and a suitable weapon. The man crumpled to the ground, but the second man rose in his defense. His fist lashed out and connected with my jaw. My head snapped back and Annabelle screamed, but I would not be deterred. I wouldn’t stop until every one of them was taken down. I kicked at my attacker and hit his knee. He stumbled forward, and I shoved him, as the third man came at me. I would not allow them to overpower me. I hit one after the other. I needed to protect her. One of them reached out and pushed her back. She cried out, and my vision went red. I saw nothing in my path but one true course, and she stood apart from me, watching with her mouth agape as I attacked one after the other, my fists flying, ducking their assault with ease, but just when I thought I’d bested them, blinding pain hit my side and my vision blurred.
“Sawyer!” she screamed. I swung my fist and leveled my attacker. The three of them lay on the ground. I fell to my knees and called out to her.
“Call for help, Annabelle,” I said, before I collapsed.
Chapter Fifteen
Annabelle
He came for me.
And he saved me.
The men who’d attacked me were unconscious, and though I could tell they were still breathing, I knew he’d hurt them. And I did not regret it, not for a minute. I knelt beside Sawyer and grabbed the flashlight he’d brought. I needed a phone. I flashed the light around his hips, looking to see if he had a phone with him, and I saw his clothing slashed, blood seeping onto the white fabric that clung to his waist. My stomach turned. How had he been injured so badly? As I crisscrossed the beam from the light, trying to see in front of me, a flash of silver caught my attention. There, in the grass, laid a blood-streaked knife.
Oh God.
A sob rose in my throat as I fell to my knees, my hands patting his pockets, my heart soaring with relief as I felt something hard and rectangular. I shoved my hand in and pulled out his phone, a solid, silver piece that was miraculously fine. With shaking hands, I hit the home button and dialed Alvin Worthington. I would not call the police. That wasn’t my call to make. We would get him help.
Worthington answered the phone.
“Alvin? I need help.” My voice shook.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice instantly on alert.
“I left, and I was attacked. Mr. Gryffin must’ve seen the attack from his window, and he came to help me. There were three against one,” I said, my voice trembling. “I… he’s…” I couldn’t complete the sentence.
“Is he alright? Is he breathing?”
“Y-yes,” I replied. “He’s breathing, but unconscious, and far too big for me to lift.”
I explained where we were, and minutes later, they came. Millie, his housekeeper and Worthington, with other people I’d never met. His staff, I assumed. They came quietly in the night.
It all happened in a blur, the darkness closing in on us as the night grew darker. Finally, we made it back to his property. My stomach clenched as we approached his house.
His prison.
He would be okay.
"Are you alright, love?”
I blinked, not sure who was speaking to me at first as I sat in Sawyer’s darkened bedroom. It was surreal to be sitting in the sanctuary of a man so scary and formidable that I’d fled his house hours ago, and even more so to see him so incapacitated. Sawyer was a huge, powerful man, and it unnerved me seeing him pale and lifeless on his bed.
I cleared my throat and looked to the woman speaking to me. Millie. She wore a bathrobe of sorts, a thin, puritanical white nightgown that covered every inch of her, her hair looped in a bun at the back of her neck, spectacles perched on the edge of her nose. In another place and time, she’d resemble Mrs. Claus and I’d expect her to come bearing a plate of cookies, followed by little elves.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, not much caring that I was being impolite.
Suddenly, Sawyer rolled his large, hulking frame over in the enormous bed, creaking the mattress, and I pulled back, afraid he’d wake up and see me in there. I did not know if I was welcome or how he’d react when he saw me.
“Don’t worry, love,” Millie murmured, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “He won’t be coming to any time soon, I think.”
“I’d like to call the doctor,” Worthington said, his lips pursed and arms crossed over his chest. “But he’d kill me.”
“Why?” I asked. He blinked, turning to me, as if he just remembered I was there.
“Because he doesn’t like anyone on his property unless it is absolutely necessary,” he clipped. “And his injuries don’t appear life-threatening.”
“Well that’s idiotic,” I said, my temper rising as I pushed myself out of the chair. “What if he’s losing too much blood? What if one of his internal organs is injured? Did that ever occur to you?” I pushed him out of the way and lifted the damp cloth that sat on a tray Millie had brought in, removing the blanket and pulling open Sawyer’s shirt.
“You’re no medical professional,” Worthington began, “I don’t think you —”
“Well if you’re going to be stupid enough not to call a medical professional, I’d advise you to move your ass out of the way so I can make sure your beloved master isn’t badly injured.”
My hands shook as he turned away from me, and Millie coughed into her hand, likely covering a laugh.
Whatever.
Worthington stomped out of the room, and Millie straightened out the bed sheeet over Sawyer before turning to me and rolling her eyes. “Likes to play the part of the master when the boss is under the weather,” she muttered. “Blusters and fusses, but it doesn’t amount to much,” she said.
I smirked. It would take half a dozen Worthington’s blustering and fussing to compare to the stern authority of the man lying in the bed now before us, but I supposed he could have fun trying.
“No doctor, then?” The flurry of activity and phone calls when we made our way back to the house confused me, as I’d only been focused on Sawyer, his pale face, his injuries. My stomach churned. They’d knifed him, the bastards. I’d been vaguely aware of people coming, and knew they were some sort of law enforcement — policemen? Marshals? I had no idea. But I knew Worthington had seen to the apprehension of the men trespassing.
“No doctor,” Millie said. “Mister Gryffin wouldn’t like it. And his wounds looked superficial, love.”
“How did these men come to attack him?” Millie asked, pouring water into a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand and handing it to me. I took it gratefully, and gulped long, cold swallows, half emptying the glass before I replied.
I swallowed hard and didn’t meet her eyes. “He was…protecting me.” I cleared my throat and lifted my chin, took another long sip of water and finally admitted, “They attacked me first, and he came to protect me.”
I closed my eyes, images of the knife flashing and his horrid howl of pain.
“Why were you outside to begin with?” Millie asked, her brow furrowed as she looked at me. There was no judgment in her gaze, only curiosity.
“Well,” I said, looking away, as it suddenly became very difficult to meet her eyes. “I…I ran away,” I faltered. “And then when I got outside, they came for me. I don’t know what they wanted. I have no money…”
Her lips pursed as she looked me over. “You don’t know what they wanted? A pretty girl like you?”
When I didn’t respond, she changed the subject.
“Got a bit of medical experience, I do,” she said. “The good news is, Mister Gryffin will be fine. It appears he has no serious life-threatening injuries, or even anything that would warrant admitting him to the hospital.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “He is lucky he is young and strong. Far too young to be held down by something as silly as a little wound,” she said, her voice rising. He stirred. “Do you hear me, Mister Gryffin?”
He grunted and shifted in the bed. My heart skipped a beat and I swallowed hard. His eyes fluttered opened and then shut as he groaned. I got to my feet.
“Well you can at least give him some pain medication,” I said.
“Yes, love, I can,” Millie replied. “But first we need to look at you.”
“Me?” I backed away from her. “I got smacked by one of those jerks, and I likely have a good-size bruise, but that’s about it.”
She pursed her lips again. “Where did he hit you?”
“The side of my face,” I said vaguely, irritated with her question and uninterested in pursuing this further. “But I’m fine.”
“The hell you are,” came a low growl from the bed. Millie and I both started and turned to the bed, where Sawyer was pushing himself up on the pillows and glaring at me. “Let her check you.”
“Well, hello to you, too,” I muttered, glaring right back at him. “And I’m fine.”
He inhaled and then exhaled, his nostrils flaring. “You’ll take care of yourself and let Millie inspect you,” he said, raising a hand to his face and covering his eyes, as if the bright light caused him pain. “Or when I’m out of this bed, you’ll deal with me.”
I shivered, and my heart exalted.
He was okay.
“Fine,” I said with a huff, plunking myself into an enormous stuffed chair beside his bed. I felt a bit like a child who was forced to go to bed early or eat her veggies. I didn’t want to be checked, I knew I was okay, and it was ridiculous to make a big deal of nothing.
He grunted. “I’ll give you fine,” he bit out. I ignored the way the heat of my body rose at his words.
“Lean back there, love, that’s right, just like that,” Millie said soothingly, gently brushing my hair out of my eyes and tucking it behind my ear. “I see where they struck you.” A warm cloth rubbed against my cheek, cleaning me before she dabbed a soft cloth to dry my skin. “Some ice and pain relievers are in order,” she said, then under her breath,
No heavy physical exertion for a few days, Annabelle,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. “You may think this is nothing, and it very well may be, but you need to be careful not to make it become something bad, see?”
I knew she meant well but I couldn’t help but groan out loud. She was overreacting and it was ridiculous. But as I glanced over at the bed, at the man whose bloodied, bruised face reminded me of the dangers we’d faced just a short while ago, I read the warning in his look.
I’d agreed to obey him, and he expected me to follow her instructions.
“Fine then,” I said with a huff. “I’ll do what you said.”
Millie nodded, and got to her feet. “It’s late,” she declared. “It’s time we get you to your room so you can get some rest. And why don’t you take some pain relievers, now, before you go to bed.”
As I took the medicine she offered me, my gaze rested on Sawyer, his dark eyes meeting mine as I stared. I didn’t want to lea
ve the room. We’d had a horrible argument and a traumatizing night. I wanted to stay with him, to make things right again.
I wanted him to tell me it would be okay.
Silently, I pled with him. Do I have to?
A gentle shake of his head, and he spoke up. “Let her stay for now,” he said gruffly, his voice deep and rough with the effort it took to speak. “I’ll send her to bed in a little while, but before then, we need to have a discussion.”
Millie nodded and gathered up the supplies. “I’ll be back to check on you in a little while,” she told him. “Your bleeding has stopped, sir, and it was just a superficial wound. Bled like a stuck pig but I don’t think you’ll need stitches. You’ll have to be sure you rest.”
“Got it,” he said, two fingers at his temple giving her a salute. She looked from me to him, then back again, gave a nod, and left the room. I would be alone with him. In his bedroom.
My head pounded so hard it made my stomach churn. I needed the pain relievers to kick in. God, what I needed was some liquid pain relief.
For a full minute, we sat in silence, and then I watched as the hand he held flat against his abdomen turned over, palm up, his large fingers uncurling before he reached for my hand and took it in his.
A lump rose in my throat as his warm hand engulfed mine. I felt fragile, with my hand in his, as he was so much larger and stronger. What would I have done if this had been the end for him? If they’d killed him? As I thought about what had transpired, my temper began to rise.
“You shouldn’t have come after me,” I scolded. “Look at you! You could’ve died.”
His hand tightened on mine, nearly crushing my fingers. “I know you were scared, Annabelle. But I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you. And if you’d stayed here, where I could keep you safe, you never would’ve been in danger in the first place.”
I swallowed. Why did my heart race like that when he scolded me? Guilt swamped me, but at the same time, my temper flared. “I ought to be angry with you. You chased me out of your house, overturned tables like a toddler having a tantrum, then put yourself at risk trying to play the hero!”
