Page 24 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

Owen’s smile flashes into my mind, and I squeeze my eyes closed to rid myself of the image, and when I reopen them, Carlos’s wide eyes slice through me. They look empty,despondent, so detached it terrifies me. It’s as if he can see the man I want him to be, and he hates me for it. “Carlos, please tell me what to do.” The crack of thunder makes my heart skip a beat as fear engulfs me at the way he glares back at me. “You’ve taken something, and it’s scaring me, Carlos.”

My words pull him from his daze, and he grips my wrists, pulling them away from his face, but he doesn’t let go. “Don’t fucking question me!” he bellows, causing Romero to cry out. Then he pushes me onto the bed and quickly moves around me toward Romero. Every cell in my body screams at me that he will hurt him, and I can think of nothing but to protect him. I push myself up to stand and grab hold of Carlos’s shoulder, pulling him back to face me. “Ple-ea—” He punches my cheek, my head snaps to the side, and I fall to the floor, the impact of the solid marble brutal to my hip. I cry out in agony, then his eyes lock with mine, and it feels like hours slip between us as I stare back at him in shock. My heart hammers as hurt lances through me.

“Don’t ever try to stop me from seeing my son, you bitch.”

He hit me.

He scared me.

He’s not the man I want him to be. He never will be. That man would never hurt me, he would do anything in his power to protect me and our son, and it’s at this moment I realize what a monster he truly is. I will never love him, no matter how much his blood runs through my son’s veins.

I’ll never love him.

My lip trembles and my eyes fill with unshed tears, but I refuse to let them fall for him. I refuse to cry for a man so undeserving.

His lips part to speak, but nothing comes out, and when Romero cries out again, my spine straightens with a steely determination. I’d die to protect him, and in this moment, I know I might have to.

Carlos pauses, and my body freezes as I wait in anticipation of his next move, and my gaze latches onto his Adam’s apple sliding down his throat, then he drops his head forward and tugs on his hair, and I’m lost at what to do. Do I reach out to him to comfort him? Or do I back away and comfort my son?

“Fuck!” he screams into his hands, then slides his palm down his face. He holds my heart in a vise, but then he walks straight past me, slamming the bedroom door behind him, and I don’t breathe again until I hear his feet thundering down the stairs. I fight back the need to cry as I scramble to my feet. Grabbing the chair in the corner of the room, I wedge it beneath the door handle and turn the lock on the door. My entire body is shaking, I’m dizzy, and my heart is aching.

I glance around the room, my adrenaline spiked with a need to protect my son. I drag the dresser in front of the chair, determined to keep him out. Then I rush to Romero, pick him up, and cradle him to my chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here. It’s okay.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more, as my instinct to protect him outweighs my need to make this work. With that thought in mind, I pick up my phone, and it’s not lost on me that the first person I want to call is Owen. My fingers tremble as I type in his number, only to find the storm has left me with no signal. My heart plummets at the thought of being here for any longer.

What if he comes back? What if he tries to change my mind?

I’m about to leave my husband, and he’ll do anything to stop me. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’d create a war, and those I hold dear will get hurt, but as I stare down at Romero, I know I’ve no choice. It’s only a matter of time before Carlos goes even further, and I refuse to be his victim. My husband is unraveling. The man I desperately wanted to love is not the same man who hit me tonight.

“As soon as morning comes, Mommy is going to get us out of here,” I whisper against his soft hair. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Romero.” I hold him against my chest. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe and never doubt the love of your family, little man, because you deserve better. We both do.”

I lift my head and stare at the door, knowing it’s only a matter of time before we can make our escape, and when we do, there’s no going back.

I’m deserving of the life I dreamed of as a young girl, and I will get it, for both of us.

TEN

LAYA

The clock beside me blinks, reading 4:42 a.m., only six minutes since I told myself not to check it again.

After placing Romero back in his bassinet, I climbed back on the bed and drew my knees up to my chest, constantly checking my phone for a signal that hasn’t appeared.

My wedding ring shimmers on the nightstand beside me, taunting me. A stark reminder of our loss, the potential of a love that never flourished, not when someone else held my heart in their hands while the man I entrusted with it destroyed it. Destroyed us.

Now I watch the door like a hawk, and when there’s commotion downstairs, panic courses through me, making my heart painfully stutter in my chest.Oh shit, he’s back.

I struggle to regulate my breathing as terror cripples me and my mouth goes dry. Then I mentally chastise myself, and my eyes dart around the room in search of a weapon, anything I can use to defend me and my son.

Before I can even think, I jump up from the bed and grab one of the bedside lights, snapping the cable from it with ease.

I clutch the heavy brass stem to my chest and stand against the wall. Footsteps rush up the stairs and a sob catches in my throat, and when the door handle moves, I feel like the air is being forced from my lungs. “Laya?” Carlos’s panicked voice filters through the door, and I sense the change in him. “Laya, open the door.” I shake my head, then internally kick myself, knowing he can’t see me. “Laya. This is serious. Open the fucking door.” His voice is firmer this time and much more in control, like the Carlos I know. A soft thud hits the door, and I can only imagine it’s his head. “Please, mi amor. I need you to open the door,” he whispers, and my heart crumbles. If I open the door, he’s going to apologize, try to convince me it was a one off, that he’s sorry. That it will never happen again.

“Please, Laya. This is important. Please.” The way he tenderly whispers my name sends a sliver of unease through me. “Mi amor. I-I don’t have much time. Please, I need you to open the door; otherwise, I’m going to have to break it down.” I’m sure I hear him sniffle, and my throat clogs with an urge to comfort him. But can I trust him?

A sob erupts in my chest as I glance toward Romero. Do I take the chance and open the door?

“I know you’re scared, mi amor. But please trust me, we’re in danger, and I need you to trust in me. I want to protect you and Romero, mi amor. Please, let me protect you.”

His words make my legs wobble. I’ve always trusted him when, clearly, I shouldn’t have, but if he wanted to hurt us, he could have, and he could easily break into the room. The realization hits me at how vulnerable we are, and it also makes me more determined than ever to get the hell out of Mexico and back to my family, where I don’t feel isolated and unsafe.

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