Page 59 of Weather the Storm
The pressure is unbearable. It feels like my neck is seconds away from snapping. Whimpering, I attempt to nod. Grant must find my answer acceptable, because he removes his foot from my neck.
With a soft, almost gentle voice, he praises me. “Good girl. Now, look at me.” It’s truly unnerving how quickly he can switch from high to low.
I peel open my left eyelid and see him crouching before me.
“You know what happens to disobedient bitches, right?” He coos the words at me, stroking the top of my head. “They get put down.”
His words sink in and sobs tear through me so hard my body convulses. “I don’t want to die. Please. Please!” Frantically begging for my life, I shout, my words nothing more than garbled moans behind the rag.
Grant lets out a sinister laugh as he rises back to his full height. Through my tear-blurred vision, I watch him move to a dark corner of the room. When he returns, he has a tarp tucked under his arm. He begins rolling it out on the floor, taking great care to smooth it out.
Stalking back over to me, Grant drags me toward the tarp. When we reach the edge, he shoves me roughly onto it. The jolt is agonizing, and my entire body cries out in pain.
Like I’m a doll, Grant positions my body. He lays me on my side, my arms still tied behind me. A flash of silver catches my eye and my heart hammers in my chest. A knife—he has a knife.
He presses the pointy tip of it into the flesh beneath my collarbone before dragging it down my chest achingly slowly. I feel a sting as my skin splits—not deep enough to be fatal, but enough to cause some damage, for sure.
“You’re going to pay,” he promises, his tone dark with intent. Thoughts of Simon beckon me. I picture myself out of this place and safe in his arms. I imagine him holding me, the memory of his delicious scent comforting me.
A loud bang then the sound of splintering wood fills the air, but I don’t bother looking. I don’t want to see what Grant has up his sleeve. I don’t want to know what’s coming next, because whatever it is, it doesn’t bode well for me.
Another thud sounds, followed by a loud, masculine voice—a familiar voice. “Get. The. Fuck. Away from her!”Simon. That sounds like my Simon. Why would Simon be here? I must be dreaming.
“Come closer, I dare you,” Grant taunts. He’s behind me now, forcing my head back so my throat is exposed, giving him access to press the blade of his knife against it. I peek my good eye open.Oh, shit. I’m not dreaming. Simonishere.
Chapter Thirty-Two
SIMON
After seeing the pictures Grant sent, I thought I could handle what was waiting for me behind those barn doors. Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing on this earth that could’ve prepared me for seeing the woman I intend to make my wife laid out like a deer about to be slaughtered.
My initial instinct is to charge the son of a bitch, but the knife he has pressed against Magnolia’s throat stops me dead. Instead, I put on my game face and ignore him, focusing all of my attention on Magnolia instead. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m here. You’re gonna be just fine.”
“Let me guess, you’re going to save her?” Grant scoffs. “What if I told you she wasn’t worth saving? She’s just a filthy, good-for-nothing whore.”
I take a step closer, and Grant follows my movements, pulling Magnolia’s body closer to him.Stay calm, Simon.“I’d say we’d have to agree to disagree. Why don’t you move away from her? Just let her go.” It’s a struggle, but I manage to keep my voice calm and tempered.
“She has to pay!” Grant screams, spit flying from his mouth, spraying the side of her face.
I take another small step. My head and my heart are at war, my brain shouting for me to retreat and wait on the police while my heart demands that I go get the girl.
“Don’t come any closer!” Grant’s voice is manic. “One more step and I’ll kill her!”
I raise my hands out in front of me, as if I’m surrendering. He moves his attention from me to Magnolia.
“Look!” Roughly, he forces her to look my way.
It’s then I see the extent of her injuries. Her face is black and blue, fresh blood mingling with dried patches. Her right eye is swollen shut, and her lip is split in several places. I feel like I’m dying—I would give anything to trade places with her, to absorb the pain I know she’s feeling. My God, she’s so strong.
“Look at how easily he gave up on you!” Grant croons in her ear before throwing his head back in maniacal laughter.
Unsure whether I’ll get another chance, I take advantage of his eyes being off of her and rush him, tackling him to the floor, knocking the knife out of his grasp in the process.
Just as I get him pinned, the sound of sirens fills the air, followed by a pounding on the door. “Police! We’re coming in!” Uniformed officers rush the building. “Police! Don’t move!”
I comply immediately, freezing atop Grant. My eyes flit to Magnolia—she’s not moving. From the looks of it, she’s barely breathing. Once again, my head and my heart battle it out, knowing I have to stay put.
“You,” an officer bellows, pointing at me. “Stand, slowly, with your hands on your head.”
