Page 32 of Finding Gwen

“Tell me, how intimidated do you think women will be of you if you’re missing a finger or two?” I said, examining the edge of my knife and hoping it would be sharp enough.

“What—?” he muttered, the crunch of bone as my knife crudely severed a piece of his finger cutting him off. His howl filled the room as I worked the knife out of the chair, watching as the piece fell from the chair into his lap.

“I’m done playing games,” I said. “Last chance, then the whole hand comes off. Give me his name.”

“Fuck, I don’t know his name, okay?” he sputtered, his arms trying to free themselves from the restraints as blood oozed from his amputated finger. “I met him in the bathroom and he pointed the bitch out to me. He handed me a pill and a roll of cash. I swear, I don’t know his name.” It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but for some reason, I believed the dumbass. However, that didn’t stop what came next.

My hand wrapped around the hilt of my knife and slammed it in between the fucker’s legs before he could blink. The wail that echoed off the walls brought a smile to my face. Even though he wouldn’t be around to see the light of day, there was something about seeing these assholes think they’d have to live without their penis that brought me joy.

I turned my back to the now sobbing piece of trash, knowing he’d pass out soon from the blood loss, and met Jason’s gaze.

“Thought I’d have to jump in and actually play good cop,” he chuckled.

“You got him from here?” I questioned, pulling the handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped off my face. Fuck, I hoped Gwen was still asleep cause I had no idea how I’d explain this to her. Looking at my watch, I wiped off the glass before reading the time, 4am.

“Yeah, I’ll tie up the loose end. How’s Gwen doing?” he asked as we walked toward the exit.

“I’m not sure. I left her asleep in my bed,” I sighed. “I had every intention of giving her space, but she asked me to stay. I don’t blame her. And to be honest, it was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” We made it to the door, and we both stopped. Jason put his hand on my shoulder.

“I promise we’ll catch the guy. You go take care of Gwen. You and Ollie would be a wreck without her.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered.

“I’ll call if I need you. Go,” he said. I shook his hand, then opened the door, heading to my truck and home to Gwendalyn.

When I pulled up to the house, all the lights were still off. Not wanting to push my luck any further by opening the garage door, I parked in the driveway. It wasn’t even 4:30 yet, so the chances of Gwen being awake were slim. Just in case, I decided it best to dispose of my shirt now covered in blood before I went inside. Shoving it under my seat, I inspected my black jeans to make sure there were no obvious stains before I opened my truck door to head inside.

Opening the front door, I stepped into the entryway, pausing for a minute and listening for any sounds. Thankfully, everything was still quiet. I locked up before heading upstairs, being careful to avoid the squeaky step near the top. Carefully opening my door, I checked on Gwen, seeing her still curled up in the same relaxed position that I had left her in. Oh luce mia, my beautiful light.

I decided to leave the door cracked in case she woke up and walked down the hall to the bathroom that Oliver typically used. Turning on the water and letting it warm, I stripped my pants and briefs while cracking my neck in an attempt to relieve some of the stress that had built up. I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away all the blood and sweat from the last couple hours. It did little to relieve the tension in my shoulders, though.

I was angry. Angry at myself for what had happened. Angry at the world for allowing bad people like the one who hurt Gwen to walk among us. I should have protected her.

My fists pounded on the tile, and the fight drained from my body. I hung my head, watching the water circle down the drain. When it finally ran clear, I turned off the water, resolving to the fact that I had failed.

Before I could step out of the shower, a blood-curdling scream came down the hallway—one that sounded far too familiar. Ripping back the curtain, I dashed out of the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the hook as I went and wrapped it around my waist. My stomach dropped when I got to the bedroom and my fears were confirmed. Gwen was lying in a fetal position in the middle of the bed with the blanket and comforter in a pile at the foot of the bed.

Rushing up next to her, I reached out to touch her when I remembered my promise. “Gwen, luce mia…” My voice didn’t sound like my own. She didn’t open her eyes, her legs kicking out. Was she reliving everything?

“No! Please, let me go! Please!” she screamed, her voice laced with pain.

“Luce mia, I promised I would not touch you without your permission. Please.” I begged her to wake up. For her subconscious to hear me and reach out. She pulled at her hair, her body thrashing once more, then she curled into herself more. Fuck it.

Reaching for her, I put one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, then pulled her into my lap. My chest was still wet and my hair was dripping water onto my shoulders, but I didn’t care. The only important thing was the woman in my lap being plagued by an anguish that she did not deserve.

“Luce mia, you are safe. I promise,” I whispered, emotion clogging my throat.

I held her body close to mine as she shook violently, the nightmare still having a hold on her. I wanted to fix this—fix everything. She deserved so much more than what she has had to endure the last couple days.

I kissed her hair, shifting my hand on her waist to rub circles on her back. She whimpered in her sleep as her body slowly stopped shaking. I continued to hold her, my hand tracing the familiar path of her spine.

Resting my chin on her head, I closed my eyes, giving her time to either wake up or completely fall back asleep.

“Anthony…” she whispered, and my eyes flew open. She squirmed against me, pulling her head away from my chest and looking up at me. Her bright blue eyes were still heavy with sleep and sadness.

“Luce mia, I’m so sorry. I know I promised not to touch you, but I was worried,” I rushed. She shifted in my lap so we were eye to eye.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry,” she said. This woman was trying to apologize and comfort me. I don’t deserve her. She tried to look away, but I refused to let her. Gently, I held her chin, continuing to hold her gaze.

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