I don’t waste any time as I knee him in the balls and run around him as he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I reach the door and unlock it, my fingers shaky as I pull the door open and come to a halt as I see Nate stood there, four guys behind him, his eyes roaming over me, the worried expression on his face quickly turning to a hardness as his jaw clenches.
But I don’t think as I launch myself at him, burying my face in his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist.
I allow my tears to fall, my whole body trembling as I feel him start to move. I don’t care where he’s taking me, all I know is that I am safe with him.
My one night of freedom has quickly turned into a nightmare.
I hear a door open, and a cool breeze hits my back, but I don’t move my head from Nate’s neck. I let the tears continue to fall as he carries me, and I feel us sinking lower until he’s sat down, me still wrapped around him, a door shutting to the side of us.
“I got you,” he whispers, his hand stroking the back of my head. My arms are locked tight around his neck, and I don’t think for one minute he is going to ask me to move. He just holds me, letting me drench his skin with my tears.
I don’t register anything else other than the feel of him as I try to numb my mind. I don’t want to replay what happened tonight, but I know it will come. Maybe I’m in shock? Maybe I’m in denial? Whatever it is, I’ll take it because all that matters is that I’m okay in the grand scheme of things.
I feel the car come to a stop sometime later, and then the door clicks open, but still I don’t look up. Nate’s neck is too inviting for me to want to leave it. He manages to slide out and stand up without asking me to let go of him.
“You know what to do,” I hear him mutter––to I presume the driver of the car––and then he’s walking, another door opening and closing, and then there is silence except for the sound of his shoes hitting the floor with each step.
We’re home. And I know this because the smell of this place hits me. The comforting scent of the house we live in.
The tears are starting to subside as he moves us upstairs until I am being placed on a surface and I finally move my head from the crook of his neck.
I register that we’re in a bathroom, but it’s not my one. It’s Nate’s.
My head hangs, my eyes refusing to lift until his hands cup the sides of my face and he tilts my head up.
“Look at me,” he says softly, and it hits me right in my goddamn heart. I raise my eyes to look at him, knowing that I probably look a state but not caring at this moment in time.
I watch as his eyes look to my cheek where that asshole slapped me. I watch as his eyes run over my neck, taking in what I assume are red marks from where his fingers were wrapped around me. And I watch as Nate struggles to contain his rage, pushing it back, trying to stay calm.
“Take a shower, and I’ll go and make you some sweet tea for the shock,” he says before placing a kiss on my forehead. His eyes linger on me before he leaves, closing the door behind him and I let myself fall apart once again. I let the tears run down my face, I let the disgust at having that awful man’s hands on me overwhelm me, and I strip my clothes off, turning the shower on and stepping in, scrubbing my skin over and over again. I wash my hair, needing every part of me clean.
I want to be strong; I want to be able to hold my head high, but I feel pathetic right now. Yes, I managed to get away and hurt the person that was trying to hurt me, but at the cost of becoming a possible killer myself?
The realisation that I may have murdered someone makes my legs give way and I drop to the shower floor, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them with my arms. How is this my life?
I’m married to the head of the crime world.
I stuck a nail file in a guy’s neck tonight.
Does that make me a monster too?
The thoughts assault me, and it isn’t until I’m being lifted out of the shower that I register that Nate is holding me again, his clothes drenched as he moves me and places me down, wrapping a towel around me and drying my body.
I let him because I am rendered useless.
I’m not strong.
I’m weak.
I’m not even worthy of being his wife because his wife would be able to deal with this shit, whereas I am just a mess. It’s quite a turnaround. I hated him, hated what he made me do, hated how he trapped me, but as he dries my feet, lifting each one carefully, I realise that I don’t hate him at all. In fact, I feel my heart flutter as I watch him take care of me. This man who is a monster, tending to me like I am the most fragile thing on earth.
And when his eyes lock with mine, I know that I have fallen.
I’ve fallen hard and I’ve been denying it to myself for a while now.
The fire he starts inside of me, the way he drives me crazy, the mindfuck that came from being part of his world, it’s all been leading to this moment.
The moment when I know that I am in love with him.
