Redeeming Rhys (23 page)

Rhys felt slightly relieved, but panic still continued to hang around. He quickly dressed himself and gathered a few items from Wren’s bathroom, including a first aid kit, to take on the road. He put on Wren a pair of black cotton capri pants and a black tank top. Wren wasn’t strong enough to help much, but moved around as best as she could when Rhys dressed her.

Rhys took a hair tie from her bedside table in an attempt to gather her unkempt curls off her shoulders. It ended up looking like a blob on top of her head, but it was better than it hanging over her face. He grabbed the bag of their belongings and tried to get her to stand. She was shaky on her feet, so Rhys decided he didn’t want to risk her falling down the stairs.

He tossed her over his shoulder and walked down the concrete steps, thirteen to be exact, and caught sight of his truck in the distance. He didn’t want to take it since it was likely already reported stolen. He took Wren’s keys from the bag and pushed the unlock button until he saw a black Sunfire beneath the lamp click open to unlock. Their end was in sight, or a new beginning in his mind.

“Wren, I need you to try to walk please.”

Rhys put her down and she stumbled, but he kept her up by draping her arm over his shoulder and aiding her in her walking. They reached the car and Rhys popped the trunk to toss their bag inside. He heard the faint squeal of tires, an indication that someone was in a hurry. He didn’t like that sound at all.

Wren fell to her knees, her consciousness was leaving her as she tried with all her might to cling onto a life that was nothing more than a lie. The moments that she shared with Rhys were the most truthful ones she had lived in all her years.

The screeching of tires interrupted Wren’s thoughts as she felt the need to give up on everything. She felt herself being hoisted up to her feet, probably in an effort to appear normal. Brakes halted the tires on asphalt and a door opened abruptly.

“Put her down. Name’s Sgt. Ambrosia with the Kentucky State Police Department. Wren, baby. Come with me, you’re safe.”

Rhys stood still, the whites of his eyes getting larger as he feared to blink. His death grip grew tighter on Wren. There was no way he would let go of her. She was his love and hate.

Wren heard a familiar voice and opened her eyes to see a faint resemblance of a man that she could only once dream of. One that cooked for her and cared for her. One that wanted to be with her.

But that Wren was dead. She was buried underneath lies.

“Co-,” Wren attempted.

Rhys squeezed tighter, showing her that he was still in control. He remained mute, eyeing the police officer before him as his hand met his hip. He quickly pulled out his gun, drawing it on him.

“Give. Her. To. Me. Now,” Constantine demanded.

“Save me,” Wren muttered.

Rhys lost it. He was fooling himself to think that he had broken her down to nothing but a shell of the girl she used to be. She just made him understand that was a lie. He pulled the knife from his hip, dragging Wren straight until the blade was flesh against her throat.

He brought his lips to her ear as he continued to eye Constantine.

“There’s only one God that can save you, my darling, and he is me.”

Rhys quickly turned around, pushing Wren into the trunk of her car. He closed it, hearing a loud pop, feeling a pain hit his right shoulder. He flung forward to the car, but immediately regained his balance, getting into the vehicle and started it as bullets continued to fly by. He put the car in reverse, hitting the man with the gun, then put it in drive and sped away towards I-40.

FOUR HOURS AND
a tank of stolen gas later, Rhys was too scared to open the trunk. He was sure that she was dead. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that, so he continued to drive.

Drive.

Bleed.

He kept thinking about the brokenness he felt when he was with her, yet he never felt so whole, a total oxymoron. He was outside of a small town in eastern Ohio, stopped at a four way stop, as his thoughts overtook his tired mind. The rattling engine purred perfectly in the early morning hours as he watched the sun portend beneath the vast sky.

Thump, thump, thump.

Rhys’ eye grew wide and he awoke, his previous worries vanished incessantly.

“I fucking hate you!” Wren yelled from the trunk.

Rhys looked at himself in the rearview mirror and smiled.

The end is never the end, it’s only the beginning…

Mary E. Palmerin is an international bestselling author of the
Monster Series
and one of the co-authors of
The Goodbye Man.
She currently resides in Indiana with her husband and two small boys. She enjoys writing raw, taboo tales that take her and her readers to unique places. When she isn’t busy writing, she usually has her nose in a good book. Mary loves spending time with her family and friends, being outdoors, traveling, tattoos, red wine, and she lives by the mantra, carpe diem. She loves to connect with her readers! You can follow her on Facebook at Facebook.com/succumbingtoscarsandsorrow, Twitter @MP_writer8, and her website at authormarypalmerin.com.