part0034

M y heart started to race, and my adrenaline spiked. I tossed and turned, trying to dislodge his weight, but he wouldn’t give. His legs locked around my waist, forcefully squeezing me, and his hand clasped tightly over my mouth, so I couldn’t scream for help.

“Shush little one, we wouldn’t want to wake the others,” he said, taunting me. I tried to bite down on his hand, but his grip was too strong. Bucking my hips up, my efforts were quickly squashed, and he ground his nails into my skin, bringing tears to my eyes.

Ignoring my feeble attempts to dislodge him, he continued as if nothing could interrupt him. “I’m impressed you were able to endure Hart’s vigorous torture as long as you did. I wagered you’d only last a day. Savoy will be happy to finally get ahold of you,” he said, grinning devilishly. “That’s for sure. But first… it’s my turn.”

I fought against his hold, trying to push him away, but he was strong.

“Oh, you pretty little thing.” He peered down at me, a nasty grin on his face. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” Sawyer grunted, his breath filling the air around us with the smell of beer and stale cigarettes.

As he did his best to pull the covers down, and pushing them aside, I knew the inevitable would happen if I didn’t do something. I tried to buck him off, feeling more like an angry bull than a victim, I was determined to fight him at every attempt. He reached his free hand under my slip, tearing a slit up the silky fabric and grabbing my breast in a painful squeeze. His hands were calloused and rough against my soft skin. I tried screaming beneath his hand, but it was barely audible.

My arms came down, pounding against his backside, and getting in one good strike to the face before his free hand grasped both of my wrists in an awkward struggle. His large, slender fingers gripped my wrists in a powerful hold, rendering me immobile.

Tossing and turning again, his hold shifted slightly, and I did the only thing I could—I bit down hard on the hand that covered my mouth, sinking my teeth into his flesh. He cried out in pain.

Panic coursed through my body, but before I could scream for help, Sawyer backhanded me, striking me across the face and grabbed my neck, squeezing tightly. Without realizing it, my eyes filled with tears, a reaction to the pain, and the inevitable outcome if I didn’t break his hold. As much as I wanted to cry out for help, the words wouldn’t leave my lips, as the tension around my neck grew increasingly tighter.

“I am going to enjoy making you scream,” he said with a wicked laugh. “Savoy only wants what you know, but when he’s through with you…”

He quickly unzipped his pants and let his erection spring forward. He pushed my nightgown up with his knees, exposing my thighs.

My heart raced, pounding inside my chest.

He grabbed my leg with a firm grip, squeezing it painfully and pulled my legs further apart, positioning himself between them. It was in this moment I knew he would not stop. There was no pleading with him now. He wanted what he wanted, and I would be damned if I gave it to him.

I raised my knee up, forcing him to reposition his hand to push me back down. His grip over my wrists relinquished its hold over me and gave me one single second to react .

With my one free hand, I reached under the pillow and grabbed the letter opener, gripping it tightly. In one swift movement, I stabbed him in the chest, just off of the center of the chest plate, at an angle like Hart had shown me making him stumble backward just enough for me to push my knees up from beneath him.

The air returned to my lungs as he let go of my neck, giving me the power I needed.

I pulled back my legs and kicked him as hard as I could, watching him fell to the floor in a painful moan. Without thinking twice, I grabbed his security badge from his jacket and ran from the room. The door to my room was unlocked, the light green as I reached for the door handle. With one glance back, I saw Sawyer face down, reaching out for me, blood spilling out onto the white carpet below him.

Outside the room, I shut the door and hit the lock button on the pad. The light lit up red, sealing the door shut. I wasn’t about to take any chances.

I ran down the hallway, my bare feet slapping the cold marble floor. When I reached the staircase at the end, I didn’t stop. I ran past the kitchen, parlor and into the courtyard. I ran right past two guards patrolling just inside the courtyard but refused to call out for help.

I had no idea who I could trust.

They yelled after me when I didn’t stop. Hearing the muffled voices over their radios, I pushed myself forward into a full-blown sprint.

The air was cold and windy as I ran to the same gate we had gone through earlier. I pressed Sawyer’s badge to the reader and the gate unlocked, but the moment I opened the gate, three guards were already running toward me. If I didn’t move, they were going to box me in.

In a frenzy, I doubled back toward the house. I couldn’t get to the woods as fast as I wanted. I opened the next door I could find with Sawyer’s card and stopped almost immediately when I realized I was in the cargo bay .

I slowed my pace to a walk and stayed to the perimeter of the bay. There were crates of all shapes and sizes stacked up on the sides, hiding me from the patrolling guard’s sight. Just then I froze as I heard voices ahead. Looking around, I did the only thing I could and jumped behind the crates, crouching down for protection.

As I crept forward, I could begin making out the figures in the distance. There was a large cargo shipping container positioned in the center of the bay and on one end, stood the Captain, and at least a dozen men. They opened the cargo container, and the loud clunk filled the room as the doors swung open.

The Captain, speaking in Spanish, ordered one of the guards forward. He disappeared into the shipping container and returned with a crate of some sort. I reached my head around the crates as best as I could until I saw it. Rather, until I saw what it was they were hiding.

The guard set the crate down and opened the top of the box with a crowbar. He pulled out a few boxes with pictures of bananas and oranges on them, setting them aside. But they were only a disguise. As the man dug deeper into the crate, he pulled out neatly secured bags of a white substance that I had recognized, courtesy of Dávilo.

Just then, the sirens sounded, and red lights began flashing.

Immediately the guards rushed to conceal the crate of drugs back into the cargo container and locked the doors. They fanned out and secured all of the exits to the outside. Some of the other guards began flushing through the bay, checking every nook and cranny. It was only a matter of time now, and I was already on borrowed time.

There was no way I could get outside of the house now. In a matter of minutes, they would stumble upon me, and I wasn’t sure what Hart would do to me after learning what I had just done.

The guards were fencing me in, flushing me toward the house again. I had to move. I had to find somewhere else to hide. Crouching low to the ground, I made my way to the door that led back inside, but before I could reach it, a handful of guards swarmed through the entryway, a blur of navy-blue uniforms sprinting past. Thankfully they had not seen me tucked behind one of the crates. I grabbed the door and slid in before anyone else saw me.

There were soldiers everywhere. They were coming from the left and the right. My only way out of this mess was up. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, still staying as low to the ground to avoid detection.

Once upstairs, I noticed the hall was empty. Just then a maid exited a room with a handful of bed sheets. There was no way I could avoid her so I ran past her, hoping she couldn’t see me with the pile of linens in her face.

The hallways lead to another bank of stairs down at the end, but I could hear a swarm of footsteps on the marble steps as they climbed to the second floor. I was trapped again. In a moment of panic, I jolted right then left, and then right again. Just as one of the soldiers had reached the top of the stairs, I ducked into one of the empty bedrooms.

My heart was beating so loudly I was sure they’d find me, the sound of my heartbeat giving me away.

I could hear the doors opening one by one as they searched the premises, and time was not on my side. I needed to hide and somewhere they might not check. I dismissed the notion of crawling under the bed or shuffled into an empty wardrobe with no coverage. The shower gave me the same problem—no protection.

I quickly looked around for a place to hide, and as soon as I saw the cabinet under the sink, I ran for it. I crawled in and pushed myself back as much as I could, pulling a few cleaning supplies to the front of me, hoping it was too dark for them to see me. Maybe they’d see the supplies and just shut the door.

Only a moment later I heard their footsteps as they entered the bathroom. They pulled back the curtain to the shower and checked behind the door .

“Clear. Next room,” one soldier said, the buzz of the radio alive with several reports. They were being thorough. My heart raced and my breathing was heavy. I covered my mouth as I waited for them to leave.

Hearing the door slam shut, I relaxed but I could not will myself to move. I stayed where I was until all I heard was my breathing alone. It must have been several minutes, maybe more before I moved.

I pushed the cabinet door open slowly, scared that someone was standing there, but there was no one. I was alone. I slowly made my way to the bedroom door and opened it, peering right and left. The hallway was empty. I half tip-toed, half jogged to the end of the hallway and peered down the stairs. There was no one in sight. I ran down the stairs and rounded the corner, stopping dead in my tracks.

Hart stood there in his pajama pants, no shirt, his bare feet left exposed. His hair was even more tousled than normal, but even as I realized this, I could not avoid the deadly glare—he was pissed.

This was the second time we had met like this, my escape attempt trumped, halted with one look. His eyes fell to the bloody envelope opener in my hand, my knuckles wrapped tightly around the shaft, unwilling to release its hold.

His body was rigid, and so was mine. Every muscle in my body told me to run, but my mind would not let me. I knew what it meant to run from him—running away from that moment would only open the doors to hell, awakening the devil.

Hart closed the distance between us is a few powerful strides, grabbing my arm when he reached me, and squeezing hard. He ripped the makeshift weapon from my hands without a word.

I wanted to plead with him right then and there, but he said nothing as he pulled me down the hall, his grip never once loosening its hold on me. He half dragged, half guided me through the house and into an area that I had previously told had been off limits.

Pushing the grand doors open, he pushed me into an unfamiliar room. I fell to the floor with a thud, the intricately designed carpet lessening the fall as he snapped, “Don’t leave this room. So help me—”

I nodded, telling him I understood as he turned on his heel and barged out, slamming the door behind him. I heard him bark orders in Spanish to the men in the hallway before leaving me in total silence.

I waited and waited, my mind getting the best of me. I looked around me, taking in the space I had found myself in. All of a few seconds passed before I realized, this must have been his room.

The artwork matched a similar taste to his office, large abstract pieces filled with an internal fight, the brush strokes fought to claim dominance on the canvas. The space was divided into two large areas, one dominated by a four-poster bed, and the other by a small sitting area. At the back of the room, I could see a large walk-in closet and a master bathroom.

As I scanned the room, my eyes fell onto a familiar black jacket that now rested on the back of a chair. The same jacket that he had lent to me a few nights ago, now spurred memories inside.

Unsure where Hart had gone, I could only hope when he came back, he would let me at least try to explain. I’m sure Sawyer’s dead body was enough evidence, but would he believe me? Would Hart believe me when I told him it had been in self-defense, that I had no choice? I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had to try.

My mind wandered back to what Sawyer had said about Savoy wanting what I knew, which raised the question, was Sawyer working with Savoy? Or had he simply overheard a conversation and found out there was a bounty for me and had tried to take advantage of the situation?

It was nearly five in the morning when Hart finally returned, according to the silver analog clock on his nightstand. Nearly an hour earlier, I had curled up on the couch, wrapped tightly in one of his throw blankets. When Hart opened the door, I jumped up off the couch, letting the blanket fall to the ground at my feet .

His eyes instantly fell on the speckled blood at the hem of my slip, the torn lace around the collar, and slit up the side of the gown from where Sawyer had tried to rip away the fabric.

Uneasy, and unsure what he was going to do, I stood frozen, waiting as he approached, his eyes gave nothing away. I’m not sure why I was expecting the worst, but as Hart inched closer, he only leaned down, grabbed the blanket, and then wrapped my bare shoulders with it.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, no anger present in his voice. His eyes were dark, but not full of hatred or anger but of something else. Hart led me to the door, where I was surprised to find the Captain just outside. I didn’t need to be told to follow them, but I did. The Captain walked ahead of us and Hart at my side.

He seemed agitated and yet unnaturally calm; it was a dangerous combination for Hart. Was it because I tried to run or because I killed one of his men? Was he taking me to the basement, the tank, or somewhere deep in the woods to be rid of me? With each growing question, I started to panic.

I thought about running again. My solution to everything it seemed these days. Hart noticed and placed his hand on my shoulder, stilling me instantly. He looked up at me with conflicted eyes and a hard-to-read face. “Relax, Addy.” It was one of the very few times he ever used my name, not my full name and I didn’t want to read into it, to think it was something it wasn’t.

We made our way to the infirmary, and I immediately began to loathe this place. But with the Captain and Hart standing next to me, I did nothing but follow them in. They led me back to one of the exam rooms where the doctor was waiting.

Mathias gave me a small reassuring smile and then ushered me straight into one of the rooms. When Hart tried to follow me in, the doctor halted him where he stood with a firm hand pressed to Hart’s chest.

“Mathias,” Hart quietly warned; his voice could have killed us all in that moment .

I had never seen anyone stand up to Hart, but it seems there was a first to everything. “You will know soon enough,” Mathias told him, and then after what seemed several seconds, Hart took a step back and stood just outside the door as the doctor shut it on him, giving us privacy.

The doctor gestured I take a seat in the exam chair while I watched him move over to the large bay windows where Hart stood, watching us as Mathias shut the blinds. The last glimpse I had of Hart was one of a moody, concerned, and almost scared look on his face.

“What is this about?” I asked. I had never seen Hart so unraveled.

The doctor busied himself pulling a few things from cabinets and drawers, setting them on the small table next to me.

“In normal instances, I would ask you if this is something you want to do, but these are not normal circumstances, and Hart is very insistent.” He rested his hand on my shoulder when he saw the scared look on my face, “I saw the video recording,” he explained, “I know what Sawyer tried to do, and whether it was just an attempt, I still need to check you over.”

I wasn’t sure what infuriated me more, that there had been cameras in my room this entire time—a clear violation of my privacy—or that my privacy was once again being ignored by refusing to give me the ability to decide for myself.

“There’s no need,” I pulled away from him. “He didn’t—”

Before I could finish, he held up a hand and stopped me, “You might not need the reassurance right now, but Hart does.” A second passed before he continued, coming to his senses. “I can walk out there and give him a verbal account, or I can give him a concrete, undeniable proof. Which do you think will make him uneasy, and which will placate him?”

I nodded slowly and let the doctor do his work. He was quick, and it took all but five minutes before we were done. He took his time, examining the bruises on my neck, wrists, and legs, but he was gentle, and I was thankful for that .

When he was finished, he asked me to replay in detail the events as they unfolded. It was at that moment that he allowed Hart into the room. His eyes were cold and hard, and his body was rigid. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he had seen a ghost.

Hart said nothing but stood against the closed door as I replayed the events to them. There really wasn’t much to tell. Hart’s composure broke when I mentioned Savoy, and my idea that maybe Sawyer had been the mole, but he quickly regained control. He didn’t try to reprimand me or say anything really… He just stood there, never taking his eyes off me.

When I was finished recalling the evening’s traumatic events, I was told I could get down. The doctor then proceeded to talk to Hart quietly. The Captain gestured for me to stand with him outside the room. We said nothing to each other, just stood side by side as we waited for them to finish.

Being around Hart for so long now, I never would have imagined he was capable of being anything more than the monster I thought him out to be, but if this week had shown anything, it was proof that Hart really somehow—in his own tormented way—did care for me. Even looking at the Captain, I could tell he too was concerned with the recent turn of events.

After several minutes, Hart emerged from the exam room with relief on his face. I don’t know why I felt sympathy for him, but I did. Was he really that concerned with my well-being?

Hart leaned over to the Captain, talking in a hushed tone, I couldn’t make out any of what he was saying, and I suspect Hart intended it that way. Hart dismissed the Captain, and with a gentle nudge, Hart walked me back to his room, neither of us saying a word.

When we got back to his room, he led me over to the couch. “Sit down,” he said. I was a bit like a robot in that moment, a bit overwhelmed and exhausted, my mind had long since left.

He poured me a drink from a decanter on a dresser and handed it to me, disappearing into the bathroom without a word. I could hear him off in the distance as he turned on the water and started to fill the tub.

A moment later, he returned, taking the half-empty glass from my hands. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” He helped me from the couch and guided me to the bathroom where the hot steam rolled off the water.

His hand moved from the small of my back to my waist, and he turned me around so that I was facing him. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t let him see me like this, see the defeat. He was right, I couldn’t survive his world. I was nearly raped and had just killed a man in a single night.

Self-defense or not, I was a murderer.

He pulled my chin up as a single tear fell. He caught it with his thumb, brushing it from my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything.” Hart said, “I’m not looking for an explanation. I’m just glad you’re alright.” He looked down at me, his eyes a beautiful green hue.

I nodded my head, sure that my voice was going to croak if I tried to talk. With a reassuring smile, Hart pulled the silk slip up and over my head, dropping it to the floor next to us. I should have tried to hide my body, or the bruises, or pushed away from him, but I didn’t.

For the first time, I felt safe. And maybe it was just exhaustion, and I was a bit delusional—jumping from the arms of one monster to the next—I didn’t push him away. He eased me into the water, never letting go of me all the while. I was thankful he was there; I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alone after everything.

He was gentle, scrubbing away the dried blood and soot, even helped to lather and rinse my hair. When I was finally clean, he encased me in a plush towel, so soft I could have fallen asleep wrapped in it and lifted me from the water in one single swoop.

Leaving me to finish drying off, Hart disappeared into the dark, returning a moment later with one of his t-shirts. It was a bit big on me, but it would do for the night.

I half expected him to walk me back to my room, but Hart made no attempt at kicking me out. When it was clear I was to sleep there, I panicked a little, stopping in my tracks.

He noticed my hesitation, “Addy, it’s early in the morning, and you’ve had a long night,” he said, walking me to the side of the bed farthest from the door. When I crawled into the bed, he returned to my side, holding out a glass of water and two little blue pills.

Shaking my head, I wanted to say no, but he stopped me.

“They’re just to help you sleep,” he said, realizing that wasn’t enough to convince me, he added, “Nothing will happen. No one will ever hurt you like that again; you have my word, Addy.” Believing him, I took the glass with a shaky hand and swallowed the pills back.

With a nod of approval, Hart took the glass from me and set it down on the nightstand next to us. I was beyond exhausted, and he could see it. He was too, but he didn’t show it as much. Once I lay down, Hart pulled the covers up to my shoulders and crawled into the bed next to me. The bed dipped, and the space around me instantly warmed from the heat of his body.

I wanted to tell myself this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be here, that I shouldn’t let myself even share the same bed with the man, but I was too tired to argue with myself.

He pulled me close, wrapping a firm arm around me, I didn’t stop him because a part of me didn’t want him to stop.