Page 17 of Chains

“No, not Mrs Thatcher, Zoe is fine.” I refuse to be known as his wife any longer. The attack may still be fuzzy, especially who shot me. But I know it was Caleb that did it. I was sure of it.

The elderly doctor looked surprised, but then covered it with a warm smile. “As you wish, Zoe.” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a truck has hit me.” I reply, trying to make light of my situation. Which, by the look on my father’s and the doctor’s faces, went down like a lead balloon.

“Are you up for a chat? I’d like to talk to you about your injuries,” the doctor says, pulling up a chair and making himself comfortable. Obviously, he’s determined to dredge up everything that happened to me at the hands of my husband, even though I just want to bury my head in the sand and to forget about everything he did to me.

“If I have to.” I reply, letting him know I wasn’t really in the mood. But for the next half an hour, I sit passively through the laundry list of injuries Caleb left me with. I suffered a broken right arm, broken wrist, broken left leg, and a gun-shot wound to the abdomen, fortunately not affecting my ability to have children later on.. They repaired the damage, but had to remove my spleen.

The whole time my father held tightly onto my hand, and I knew if he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to face all this alone. After every detail the doctor imparted, I suddenly felt so tired.

“I think that’s enough for now, doctor.” I heard my father tell the older man.

“I’m so tired.” I mumble, my eyes already closing, cutting short anymore talk about my husband and what happened to me.

Once the doctor releases me from the hospital, I was determined to make Caleb my ex-husband by getting the ball rolling on the divorce I had been planning for a long time, being too scared of the man and his threats to follow through with it any earlier.

“Rest.” I hear my father’s voice, and feel safe knowing that he’s here with me as I doze off.

CHAPTER NINE

Chains

I paced my cell, which had been my home for the last few months; pacing and working out is all I had done being locked up in this godforsaken place.

Locked up with no sign of ever leaving, I had taken my brothers off the visitors' list; it was too hard having to see them, knowing I would probably never get out of here. The only person I allowed to see me was my lawyer, but even his visits have been sporadic since there has been no news on any change to Zoe’s condition.

Knowing that the love of my life was still in a coma, probably never to wake up, was killing me inside. I had even prayed in here, something I’d never done in my life, I would do anything to get her to wake up. But nothing was helping. I believed that there was no hope for me, and I would be in here for the rest of my life.

A guard walked up to my cell, looking at me with his usual scowl. I had bulked up over the last few months I’d been here, since there was nothing else to do but work out.

“Prisoner, you have a visitor,” he announced, and I couldn’t quite hide my surprise at his words.

I silently shoved my hands through the bars and waited for him to cuff my wrists. Once he did, he unlocked my cell. I had to smirk because I knew he would shit bricks next to me if I weren’t in cuffs.

The asshole pushed me ahead of him, and I couldn’t help the growl that escaped at the move. The fucker was lucky I was restrained, otherwise, he’d find himself in a headlock. But I didn’t want to jeopardize my time here, not wanting to find myself in solitary. Otherwise, I’d go mad. I was sure of it.

Silently, we made our way to the visitors' quarters, where I spotted my lawyer, Travis Tobin. I couldn’t make out anything in his blank expression, but my heart rate kicked up, and I started thinking the worst.

When I was unceremoniously shoved into a plastic chair across from my lawyer, I barely restrained myself for lunging at the guard, holding myself back until we were finally left alone.

“How’d you manage that?” I ask, motioning with my head towards the closed door. Usually, there would be at least two guards inside the room with us.

“Had to grease a few palms. No big deal,” he replies, opening his briefcase.

“What’s going on?” I demand, linking my fingers together on the table. If he’s here to tell me Zoe didn’t make it, I don’t think I could hold myself back, and I would end up in solitary, anyway. Travis seemed to sense my mood, and a small smile tipped up his thin lips.

“It’s all good news,” he announces. “Zoe has woken up. She remembers every detail of the attack, and has told her father and anyone else who will listen that you are innocent. Apparently, it was her husband.”

My jaw ticks, and I tighten it until I feel a pain in my teeth. The fucking fucker! I knew it! All I want to do is get out of here and go find the asshole and give him my personal brand of justice. But I can’t do that from inside. Yet.

“So, what does that mean for me?” I ask.

“It means you’re free to go. I’ve got all the paperwork; the warden has already signed it.”

“Are you shittin’ me?” I inquire, feeling like I’m on an episode of that show Punk’d or something. The man surprises me by throwing his head back and laughing wholeheartedly.

“No, I’m definitely not shitting you,” he replies. He gets to his feet, a full-on smile on his handsome face.

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