Page 81 of Fractured Fear

“SPENCER!”

All our heads snap to the door which is still open. Footsteps thunder up the stairs. Why are Rio and Asher not alarmed by the angry man charging up here?

“SPENCER!”

“Somebody’s in trouble,” Rio singsongs from the kitchen.

“What?” Asher’s arms fall away from my waist and my gaze zaps around the room, looking for something I could use as a weapon. I really should buy some candlesticks. One of those would be perfect right about now.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Zane appear in the doorway, but my relief is short-lived. His hair is disheveled, his shirt is untucked and wrinkled, and his eyes are plagued. His gaze snaps to me and takes in my appearance. I know what he sees. Studio clothes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, but then he glances down and sees the bags I packed; the rage in his voice comes back

“You thought you could leave me?” His nostrils flares and he advances on me kicking the door shut behind him. “What was your plan, Spence? Huh?”

Slow steps carry me backwards down the hall. I’m tired of these men backing me into a corner, but when approached by a predator you back away, and that’s exactly what he is right now. A predator.

The hurt I caused is there, but he’s covering it with the anger radiating from him.

Isn’t that what anger usually is? Hurt that we try to hide. We think no one will see what we deem as weakness, but it couldn’t be more obvious with a flashing neon sign.

Instinctively I bring my hands up in front of me, but my subtle sign doesn’t deter him. He’s on me before I reach my bedroom. He grasps my hands in his and brings them to his hard chest. The pounding of his heart underneath his sculpted muscle hammers against my palm.

“Why? Tell me why.” Zane pleads. His voice is wrought with emotion, but is still harsh.

“I was trying to keep you all safe. Damn you fucking stubborn men! Just let me go and you’ll all be safe!” I'm losing it. I can’t keep explaining myself like a broken record. How many times do I have to tell them until they fucking get it? They’re not safe with me around. Anthony will always follow me.

“She thought she was protecting us from Anthony,” Asher chimes in.

“You were going to leave us because of him? That pathetic waste of space?” Zane asks even more enraged, but his solid grip on my hands doesn’t turn painful. Even in his anger, he’s mindful of me.

“Why does it feel like y’all know him?” I ask skeptically.

“We looked him up last night after we left,” Rio says like it’s no big deal as he keeps reading my letters.

“You had no right! What if he finds out? If he wasn’t already here, he definitely is now. I really have to go. I can’t stay here.” My mind begins to spiral.

Before, I could at least lie to myself saying that he had the flowers delivered meaning I still had time to get away, but now there’s no fooling myself. He had a private jet that he used so he could travel at the last minute if needed.

“Not fucking happening, Angel.” With Zane’s declaration he bends down and throws me over his shoulder. One moment I’m upright and the next I’m staring at his in-shape ass.

“Zane! What the hell? Put me down!” He ignores me and continues his march while I carry on with my futile attempts. Then, for the second time today, I land with a bounce on the couch as Zane plops me down.

When I try to sit up, he’s on me. He has my arms pinned above my head and my legs wrapped up in his before I can even blink. So much for all those boxing and self defense lessons. Why can’t my traitorous body be on my side for once when it comes to these men?

“Zane, get off of me.” I buck my hips, but he doesn’t budge.

“No. Not until you promise.”

“Seriously?” My question comes out as a screech. This is ridiculous. Pin me down until I agree? We’ll be here for a while then. They want to be headstrong cavemen? Well, two can play at that game. Or four. Whatever.

“Promise you won’t try to leave.”

Oh my God. They’ve lost their minds. Is no one else seeing the huge bubble of danger surrounding me? It’s like they want a ticket for this crazy ride that leads straight to their deaths.

“She’s never going to agree to that,” Asher says with a sigh as if I’m the one being difficult. Well fuck him.They’rethe difficult ones.

“Promise me. Please.” It’s not Zane’s words that have the guilt eating at me. It’s the pain in his tone. My soft, quiet Zane is begging me not to break what we have built, what I have actively tried to avoid building with him. It’s hard to resist when theother party is so pushy, but have I really tried resisting? They make me smile. The warmth and security I feel when in their arms is on a level I’ve never felt before. Why should I have to give that up?

So they live to see tomorrow.

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