Page 141 of Manacled Hearts

Once again, I wait for the guilt and disgust for murdering three people to crash down on me, but nothing comes. All I feel is contentment and can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. As I watch Frankie aim his weapon at me, I do feel a bit of fear too. Still no guilt though…

Is this it, the moment all will be over and he will no longer invade my dreams, turning them into endless nightmares?

I wait a few seconds longer, yet he makes no move to squeeze that trigger. Not even when I begin walking toward him. The blonde woman he forces against his body is shaking silently, trying but failing not to look at the bodies strewn across the beach as dark makeup streams down her pretty face.

I shouldn’t waste time, but I’m curious. “How did you know my name?”

He grins and I want to vomit, “You told me. You probably don’t remember though, you were off your head impaled on my dick at the time. ”

Bile lodges in my throat and I tighten my grip around the gun. I shouldn’t have asked.

“You’re early, Evelyn. I wasn’t expecting you yet.” His lisp grinds my eardrums, and I would gladly make him eat a bullet just so I don’t hear it anymore.

“Thought I would surprise you since you wanted me here so badly.”

“The plan was to keep you for myself, but considering this”—he waves his gun around the beach and my handy-work—“taming will be necessary. And I’m afraid I’m not good at taming. I tend to kill them, accidentally of course. Lucky for you, I know a few experts at it. I want to say they’ll take good care of you before you’re returned to me, but the truth is… they’ll break you apart. Bit by bit, split your mind in so many pieces, you won’t even remember your Sanctum, and your body will bear no memory of anything other than their grueling training. You will be pliant, docile. And willing.”

I swallow the acidic bile in my throat as I stop not even ten feet away from the man.

“Never.” I fume, lining up my gun with his forehead.

I won’t miss from this distance, but the asshole yanks the woman in front of him, using her to shield himself as she wails and squirms in his grip.

“Coward,” I hiss, keeping my gaze off the intimidating barrel of his gun. “All those threats, just so you can kill me with a gunshot?”

“You stupid fucking girl! Who said anything about killing? I will maim, fix you later, or maybe just partially. Leave you with a limp or something as a constant reminder of your failure.”

Failure…

Failure to protect my sister.

Failure to save us.

Failure to avenge us.

I will not be a failure! Not again.

I aim next to the woman’s head and pull the trigger. Adrenaline breeds irrational strength, and she cries out, ripping out of his grip and drags herself away.

“Goddamn it!” he yells and shoots at the same time.

Piercing, hot pain slices through my left bicep, and with a shriek spilling off my lips, I squeeze the trigger.

It clicks. Empty.

What the…?

I do it again, but no bullets fly. Then I press it frantically a few more times, keeping my eyes on Frankie.

A sickening grin pulls at his lips, and he bolts toward me. My eyes widen as I step back and throw the useless gun at him. It hits his head but barely slows him down.

The instincts I’ve been honing in the last few months kick in, and I duck to the right, slamming my right fist in his exposed ribs, then to his head when he bends in pain. He comes for me, staggering on the uneven sand, and I take the opening and kick the gun out his hand. But the asshole is quick, swearing as he throws punches that I manage to intercept and move away from.

I sidekick him low in the gut, then grind my teeth through the ache in my bicep as I throw a quick series of jabs to the throat and head, following him as he stumbles backward. Even so, he lands a couple clumsy but painful punches to my stomach, my legs staggering as I heave, and he takes the opportunity and tackles me to the ground. He doesn’t pin me fully, but trying to push him off with that burn in my arm at the same time memories of him on top of me assault me, is almost impossible.

“I missed the feel of you under me,” he spits at me with that lisp of his and the seediest of grins pulling at his lips.

When he bends his head to make some sort of contact with mine, I headbutt him with as much force as I can gather in this position. He barks out his anger more than his pain, but at this point I’m deep in a frenzy, half here, half in the memories of him laid over my body, and I use my good arm to land as many punches as I can, blocking his attacks as well. I only pause for one brief moment, but he takes the opportunity and wraps a hand around my throat, squeezing hard enough that pressure builds behind my eyes. I claw at his arms, his shoulder, back, neck, and everything else I can get my hands on, but the man doesn’t budge. Instead, he squeezes tighter and panic surges deep in my belly as I bend my legs and plant my feet to try to haul him off.

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