Bent not Broken (85 page)

“Did you have a nice trip, Melanie?” The cold, steady voice reached me from across the room. I gasped as the box slipped from my hands, the items spilling across the floor, glass shattering as the frames crashed against the tile.

Blood throbbed against my eardrums and ran cold through my veins. My heart didn’t know whether to seize or pound its way completely from my chest.

No. Please. No.

But I couldn’t deny the dark figure, a shadow sitting leisurely in the large chair in front of the window. The faint amount of light coming in from outside obscured everything but his silhouette. I gulped, trying to hold down the scream rattling in my throat.

“Nicholas...you...you...scared me,” I managed to force out, my mind racing. I clamored to find a way to get myself out of this situation. My eyes darted to the door. His eyes trailed mine, keen on my intent.

Even as preoccupied as I had been with packing my things, I still would have heard him enter, and I knew then that he hadn’t wanted me to know he was there.

Because he knew
.

He had to have been waiting, watching. My stomach clenched. Had he followed me here from the airport?

“Going somewhere?” His tone was laced with a sarcastic bite as he tilted his head to the side. His face slowly came into focus, his relaxed posture a paradox, his expression severe. The fury burning in his eyes was visible even across the darkened room.

His face shifted down, and I noticed the pile of papers resting on his knee. He slowly and deliberately reached down to pick them up, smacking them lightly against his knee.

I knew immediately what they were.

How could I have been so stupid—so careless?

“These are really very interesting.” He held them up, pursing his lips, his eyebrows drawn, waiting for my reaction to the pages and pages of cell phone bill. The lines of unknown number were numerous, both texts and calls running in repetition down the columns. The few sparse calls to Katie and my mother sorely stuck out among the hundreds of others. It was clear from the look on Nicholas’s face that he knew exactly who my “unknown” was.

So this was it.

I could try to lie, but there would be no denying what Nicholas held in his hand, and I was through keeping my love for Daniel a secret.

“Just let me go, Nicholas. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me, so—”

His barking laugh caught me by surprise as he jumped to his feet. Not even a small amount of humor accompanied the harsh sound coming from his mouth.

“You think this is about love?”

I cowered back, the broken glass crunching beneath my feet as I backed away from him as he stalked across the room.

“This is about somebody trying to take something that belongs to me. You...are...mine,” he growled as he came closer, “and I think it’s about time I reminded you of that.”

I took the last step I could before I backed into the wall, trapped. His breath was hot and fevered with anger as he stood fuming in front of me. His nose ran down my jaw and to my neck. My body rolled with nausea when his hands came to rest on either side of my head, his mouth against my ear. “You really are a whore, aren’t you? Do you know what you smell like?”

I shrank away as he continued to move, his hands roaming over my body. He breathed over me, pushing into me, trying to reclaim me.

I became desperate, frantic, my defenses finally kicking in. I pushed him back and struggled to get away, crying out, begging him to stop. But it only made it worse when he saw what I wore on my left ring finger.

“What...the...fuck...is...that?” he spit through clenched teeth, enraged as his hand came up and twisted in my hair, yanking hard. I shrieked when the other came to the collar of my shirt, the cloth ripping from top to bottom as he tore through it. His hand flew to the button of my pants and he struggled to break it free.

Tears flowed as I slumped against the wall, powerless, my soul crying out as I begged for Daniel.
Please save me.

It was as if the energy broke through the hopelessness, a quiet voice somewhere in the recesses of my mind.

Fight!

But I heard it.

I gathered all the courage I could find and fought with everything I had, kicking and hitting and clawing and screaming. The sudden attack was not enough to hurt Nicholas, but enough of a surprise to allow me to break free of his grip. I dodged under his arms, escaping down the only open path and into the kitchen.

He was right behind me and knocked me to the floor when he struck me from behind. The sound of my hands and knees smacking against the floor echoed through the room. My face made its own protest as it met the marble tiles. Blood saturated my mouth.

Nicholas wrapped his hand around my calf, the blood pouring from my mouth and smearing across the floor as he pulled me back.

He flipped me over, hitting me hard across the face. “You stupid bitch!”

He held me down, his hand splayed out across my chest, the pressure of his weight suffocating as he struggled with his pants. Still, I fought, trying to kick and break free. He grabbed a handful of hair, lifted my head, and smashed it against the floor. The pain was splitting, staggering, and nearly sucked me into darkness.

Still the voice was there, ringing through the pain, deafening.

Fight!

And I wanted to—so badly. I struggled, flailed, sunk my teeth into the flesh of Nicholas’s arm. I barely felt the fist that landed on my cheek. Darkness gathered at the edges of my consciousness. I tried to hang on, but the shadows took hold, spread.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I rushed to the office, signed a few documents, and was back in my car in less than ten minutes. Traffic was light and I was on the highway in no time, racing toward Nicholas’s house, on my way to finally bring my girl home.

My heart tightened, overjoyed with that thought. She was actually coming home. Tonight we’d sleep together in
our
bed. To think that after all this time, after so much pain, our lives would be completely joined together.

Melanie’s spirit wound itself around me—squeezed and constricted. I smiled at the sensation, yet somehow felt compelled to rub my chest to ease some of the pressure that had settled there.

It was heavy and—wrong.

I shook my head and tried to shake it off.

Raking a hand through my hair, I glanced at the clock, urging the distance away.

I pressed down the accelerator a little further. Agitation raced through my veins, spurring me on, driving me faster.

Fight!

I didn’t know where the word came from, but suddenly it was there, and I was voicing it aloud in the car.

Oh my God. Something was very, very wrong. I swerved around a car, cutting back in front of it to take the exit, slamming on the brakes when I came up behind the line of cars waiting at the intersection.

“Go!” I shouted as the cars slowly began to accelerate when the light turned green. I rammed my foot down on the gas and sped around them.

Fight!

It was there again.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I whispered, “I’m coming, Melanie,” more desperate and more terrified than I’d ever been.

I took the last turn into her neighborhood, skidding around the corner, the energy frenzied. Fear pulsed through me as the house came into view in the distance, the pull now so great I was nauseous.

I grabbed my phone, praying it had had enough time to charge, and ran across her yard to the front door.

Even with everything silent, I could feel her despair. I cracked open the front door, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I had no idea what I would find.

Cautiously, I stepped inside, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. For the first time in my life, I wished I carried a gun. I crept forward, swallowing down my panic when I saw the evidence of a struggle strewn across the floor, a toppled box with its contents scattered among shards of glass.

The urge to scream for her was overwhelming, though I stopped myself, sure I’d only put her in more danger. I progressed slowly across the room, keeping my footsteps light, cringing when my shoe crunched against broken glass. From somewhere deeper in the house came a rustle, then a low, guttural groan.

My heart stuttered.

Drawn, I moved toward the kitchen. For a moment, I lost the ability to function when I saw them, Nicholas above her, tearing at her clothes, tearing at his—the blood—my girl.

My vision clouded as I was assaulted with the darkest rage, a lust for death I’d never known.

Nicholas, so intent on this most depraved violation, didn’t even notice I was there until I’d launched myself across the room. He finally noticed my presence and jerked his head up to look up in my direction just in time for me to ram my fist into his face.

Something crunched and gave way beneath my hand.

The bloodlust surged.

I was on top of him, one hand holding him down while I drew the other back to deliver a slow, deliberate blow to the side of his face.

His head snapped to the side, his eyes fluttering as his consciousness ebbed. Shaking himself off, he sputtered, “Fuck you,” through his bloodied mouth. The blackest eyes stared up at me, filled with hate, lost to any compassion.

I itched to wrap my hands around his throat, to feel his pulse die out against my palms as I squeezed the last of his breath from him, to make him pay for what he’d done. To make him pay for ever laying a hand on Melanie.

It felt so good when I gave in, when I watched his eyes bulge in fear.

I pressed my eyes closed when I almost felt the hand on my shoulder, heard Melanie’s voice.

No
.

I gasped, shocked from the dangerous place my mind had gone.

I cocked my arm back again and hit him hard enough to keep him down.

He slumped to the floor, this time unable to hold onto consciousness.

I sucked at the air I couldn’t seem to find, struggled to control the fury that still fought for release, and instead focused on the only reason I was here.

The only thing that mattered.

Sure that Nicholas was no longer a threat, I turned to my broken girl.

Fumbling with my phone, I managed to dial 911 and feel for her pulse at the same time. It beat weakly beneath my trembling fingers, but it was there, thank God.

The operator came on, and I yelled the address, asking for an ambulance and the police, begging them to hurry. The woman tried to ask questions, but I could hear nothing but the ringing in my ears, fear and rage pounding and pushing against every vein in my body.

“Melanie, no...baby, no,” I whimpered, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair, my fingers wetted by the warmth seeping from the back of her head.

“You fucking bastard!” Her face was torn to shreds. A deep wound hung open over her eye, the skin sliced open through her eyebrow, blood still steadily flowing from it. Cuts and scrapes littered her face and another deep cut gaped just under her chin. Her nails were ripped and bloodied, filled with skin and hair from fighting off Nicholas. Her clothes were in tatters, the front of her shirt ripped open, her exposed skin saturated in the blood pouring from her mouth.

Her body had been his aim, it now broken and bruised at his hands.

Groaning, Nicholas rolled, coughing and spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor.

The corner of my mouth trembled, and I clenched my jaw as the urge to end his life flared.

Lifting his head, his hate-filled eyes met mine. I stared at him, my posture protective as I guarded Melanie.

“If you ever touch her again, I will
kill
you,” I snarled, my face twisting with hatred.

“She’s
my
wife,” he spat out.

“No,” I shook my head. “She’s mine. She’s always been mine.”

He snorted through his nose and wiped his bloody face with the back of his hand, his cocky demeanor back in full force. “She’s not fucking worth it.” But the expression on his face told me that he knew she was.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drew near.

He slumped back down to the floor when four police officers entered, their guns drawn in preparation for an unknown situation.

Meeting no resistance, they waved in the paramedics.

“Sir, we need you to get back.”

I slid back on the floor and sagged against the cabinet while two paramedics began treatment on Melanie and two others knelt beside Nicholas to assess his injuries. They moved quickly and efficiently over my girl, placing a brace around her neck and compresses against her wounds. I watched helplessly as they transferred her unconscious form onto a stretcher.

The pull I felt for her now was indescribable, the need to be by her, to touch her. I could feel her soul calling for mine, scared and unsure. Even in her unaware state, her lips rolled with my name.

When I could resist her no longer, I squeezed in beside her and took her hand in mine. I whispered in her ear that I was near, that she would be fine. I told her that she was free, that we could now be together. I praised her for being so brave and swore that Nicholas would never harm her again.

“Sir, we need to take her now.”

I nodded and placed a soft kiss against her forehead. Her face, even broken and dried with blood, was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “I love you, Melanie. I’ll be right behind you, sweetheart.”

Reluctantly, I stepped away and dropped her hand. I trailed behind as they pushed her out the door and slid her into the back of the waiting ambulance.

Jumping into my car, I pulled out onto the road right behind the ambulance.

Grabbing my phone, I meant to dial my dad to let him know what’d happened, but froze when I saw the text message that popped up on my screen, the one I’d been too upset to even register when I’d dialed 911.

Where are you? The baby is coming!

Shit.

I just prayed this was another sad attempt by Vanessa to garner more attention. My hand shook as I pressed the button for voicemail. The generic voice came on and informed me I had twenty-seven new voice messages.