Locke
Page 33
When I hear his voice get farther away, I know this is my moment. Peeking my eyes open and seeing his shadow falling from the open doorway of the bathroom gives me the time I need. I move as quickly as my body will allow and get to the hotel phone. After snatching it off the cradle, I press ‘0’ and wait. When I hear the operator answer, I whisper my room number, begging for them to send help quickly. Then I shove the phone beside the bed and the nightstand and make my way to where I left my cell charging on the desk, fumbling for a second as I listen to Shawn laugh at whatever my father is saying.
Laughing about destroying his own flesh and blood.
I manage to get my phone turned on and the phone app open to dial Maddox before I hear Shawn coming behind me. I quickly toss the phone to the side, praying that I pressed the button to connect the call before I had to abandon it.
“Little bitch is awake now, Ram. It’s time for me to have some fucking fun before I bring her home.” He laughs again.
I curl into a ball when he gives me a hard kick, landing his boot right into my shin. I cry out in pain, my voice still sounding foreign to my ears. He gives me another kick, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s hurt me. The pain is overwhelming this time and I get sick again. I’m not even sure what wetness on my body is from vomit, blood, or my tears.
“You going to fight me again, slut? This cunt is mine, and I’m done playing games. It’s time for you to remember exactly who you belong to. You’re never going to be more than Syn—and even if that bastard got some grand idea to come after you again, he wouldn’t want you when I’m finished anyway.”
He towers over me, grabbing me by my hair and hauling me from the floor. Then he slaps me across the face before shoving me onto the bed. I fight again, ignoring the pain in my arm and leg, kicking and slapping, but in the end, he’s just too strong for me. I’m not sure how long I was able to fight him. It feels like an eternity, and with his hand back on my throat, I pass out, praying that help isn’t too far away.
Chapter 21—Maddox
Coming back to the apartment without Emmy wasn’t how I’d seen the night ending. As foolish as it was to believe that we could just fall back into whatever we had before, but I hadn’t anticipated her telling me to leave. It took one hell of a battle with my mind to get my feet to leave that room. To get my legs to carry me out of the hotel and into my car. It took even longer to convince my mind to leave her there.
I took care of feeding Cat and cleaning out her litter box when I got in. Then I set off to pick up the rest of the apartment since I had torn it up while looking for a clue as to where she was.
And then I was left sitting on the couch, staring at the clock as it ticked each painfully slow second by. Mocking me with the knowledge that I couldn’t make time go by more quickly.
I must have fallen asleep because the sound of my phone ringing jolts me with a start. Noticing that the time is just a few hours before dawn, I make my way down the hall to grab my screaming phone.
When I see her name across the screen, my heart skips a beat. She could be telling me not to bother or calling to tell me to come back. Either way, I’m nervous—a feeling I have no idea what to do with.
“Em,” I greet, my lips tipping up in a smile.
I don’t hear anything for a few beats…until a voice that I know damn well doesn’t belong on this call comes through the line.
My heart stops. Right now, the blood just stops moving through my body and a rage I’ve never known consumes me.
While I race to the elevator, knowing that my leg will never hold up if I storm down twenty-seven flights of stairs, I try to calm my mind and go into fight mode. As hard as it’s going to be, I need to think about this as objectively as I can in order to get her out of there. Treat her like a hostage who has the clock against her—which is exactly what I’m dealing with.
It’s almost impossible to put my feelings for Emmy aside and focus on how to save her, but it’s my only chance. I keep the phone trained to my ear, listening to the muffed hell she is living. I use the sounds to fuel my rage and determination. If I stop for just a second and let the helplessness of the situation sink in, I know I’ll be no good to her. I need that rage, the years of hate and injustice, to be my weapon.
This is my chance to let every one of the demons—the monsters in my soul—free and let the wrath consume my body.
I reach the garage level in minutes. Minutes that, in reality, felt like hours, but less than a second after the doors open, I’m sprinting as fast as I can towards my Charger. My phone is still glued to my ear as I listen to the muffled fight.
Then I’m rushing through the streets as fast as I can push my car, my eyes focused like tunnel vision on one thing.
Obliterating the motherfucker who dared to put his hands on my sweet angel.
It takes me five minutes and twenty-six seconds to get to the hotel. I jump out of the car before I even have a chance to throw it in park, not even giving a fuck that it’s rolling towards the brick pillar holding up the covered carport. I jump and fucking run.
“Give me the keycard for room four seventeen,” I demand, my eyes wild as I take in the terrified night clerk. She doesn’t move. “Fucking hell! NOW!”
“I ca-can’t give you access, sir,” she stutters.
“There’s a sadistic, abusive, FUCKING RAPIST up there right now with my woman, so let me tell you again—give me the goddamn keycard!” My voice booms through the lobby.
Her eyes go wide as she fumbles with the stack of cards next to her computer. “We got a call down not even ten minutes ago. I thought it was a joke, so I hung up.”
I’m sorry—what? I’m having a hard time following her, keeping my attention to the noises coming through my cell, and seeing through my adrenaline-filled, raging mind.
“Give me the card and you better fucking pray I’m not too late,” I threaten.
She fucking hung up. She had enough time to make two calls and only one came.
“NOW!” I bellow when it takes her a second longer.
With a shaking hand, she hands the card over. I keep my eyes trained on her and show her just how dangerous I am.
“Stairs?” I bark. She points and I take off. “And fucking call the police!”
Laughing about destroying his own flesh and blood.
I manage to get my phone turned on and the phone app open to dial Maddox before I hear Shawn coming behind me. I quickly toss the phone to the side, praying that I pressed the button to connect the call before I had to abandon it.
“Little bitch is awake now, Ram. It’s time for me to have some fucking fun before I bring her home.” He laughs again.
I curl into a ball when he gives me a hard kick, landing his boot right into my shin. I cry out in pain, my voice still sounding foreign to my ears. He gives me another kick, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s hurt me. The pain is overwhelming this time and I get sick again. I’m not even sure what wetness on my body is from vomit, blood, or my tears.
“You going to fight me again, slut? This cunt is mine, and I’m done playing games. It’s time for you to remember exactly who you belong to. You’re never going to be more than Syn—and even if that bastard got some grand idea to come after you again, he wouldn’t want you when I’m finished anyway.”
He towers over me, grabbing me by my hair and hauling me from the floor. Then he slaps me across the face before shoving me onto the bed. I fight again, ignoring the pain in my arm and leg, kicking and slapping, but in the end, he’s just too strong for me. I’m not sure how long I was able to fight him. It feels like an eternity, and with his hand back on my throat, I pass out, praying that help isn’t too far away.
Chapter 21—Maddox
Coming back to the apartment without Emmy wasn’t how I’d seen the night ending. As foolish as it was to believe that we could just fall back into whatever we had before, but I hadn’t anticipated her telling me to leave. It took one hell of a battle with my mind to get my feet to leave that room. To get my legs to carry me out of the hotel and into my car. It took even longer to convince my mind to leave her there.
I took care of feeding Cat and cleaning out her litter box when I got in. Then I set off to pick up the rest of the apartment since I had torn it up while looking for a clue as to where she was.
And then I was left sitting on the couch, staring at the clock as it ticked each painfully slow second by. Mocking me with the knowledge that I couldn’t make time go by more quickly.
I must have fallen asleep because the sound of my phone ringing jolts me with a start. Noticing that the time is just a few hours before dawn, I make my way down the hall to grab my screaming phone.
When I see her name across the screen, my heart skips a beat. She could be telling me not to bother or calling to tell me to come back. Either way, I’m nervous—a feeling I have no idea what to do with.
“Em,” I greet, my lips tipping up in a smile.
I don’t hear anything for a few beats…until a voice that I know damn well doesn’t belong on this call comes through the line.
My heart stops. Right now, the blood just stops moving through my body and a rage I’ve never known consumes me.
While I race to the elevator, knowing that my leg will never hold up if I storm down twenty-seven flights of stairs, I try to calm my mind and go into fight mode. As hard as it’s going to be, I need to think about this as objectively as I can in order to get her out of there. Treat her like a hostage who has the clock against her—which is exactly what I’m dealing with.
It’s almost impossible to put my feelings for Emmy aside and focus on how to save her, but it’s my only chance. I keep the phone trained to my ear, listening to the muffed hell she is living. I use the sounds to fuel my rage and determination. If I stop for just a second and let the helplessness of the situation sink in, I know I’ll be no good to her. I need that rage, the years of hate and injustice, to be my weapon.
This is my chance to let every one of the demons—the monsters in my soul—free and let the wrath consume my body.
I reach the garage level in minutes. Minutes that, in reality, felt like hours, but less than a second after the doors open, I’m sprinting as fast as I can towards my Charger. My phone is still glued to my ear as I listen to the muffled fight.
Then I’m rushing through the streets as fast as I can push my car, my eyes focused like tunnel vision on one thing.
Obliterating the motherfucker who dared to put his hands on my sweet angel.
It takes me five minutes and twenty-six seconds to get to the hotel. I jump out of the car before I even have a chance to throw it in park, not even giving a fuck that it’s rolling towards the brick pillar holding up the covered carport. I jump and fucking run.
“Give me the keycard for room four seventeen,” I demand, my eyes wild as I take in the terrified night clerk. She doesn’t move. “Fucking hell! NOW!”
“I ca-can’t give you access, sir,” she stutters.
“There’s a sadistic, abusive, FUCKING RAPIST up there right now with my woman, so let me tell you again—give me the goddamn keycard!” My voice booms through the lobby.
Her eyes go wide as she fumbles with the stack of cards next to her computer. “We got a call down not even ten minutes ago. I thought it was a joke, so I hung up.”
I’m sorry—what? I’m having a hard time following her, keeping my attention to the noises coming through my cell, and seeing through my adrenaline-filled, raging mind.
“Give me the card and you better fucking pray I’m not too late,” I threaten.
She fucking hung up. She had enough time to make two calls and only one came.
“NOW!” I bellow when it takes her a second longer.
With a shaking hand, she hands the card over. I keep my eyes trained on her and show her just how dangerous I am.
“Stairs?” I bark. She points and I take off. “And fucking call the police!”
