Page 64 of In the Grey of Dawn

What have I done?

“You know I tried getting to her sooner. Tried a few times but she was always with someone. I thought about taking her friend but that stupid meathead was always with her so I gave up on that plan. The pregnant lady was too secure with that fucking dog never leaving her side, and your bitch never trusted me enough toactuallyexchange phone numbers. I couldn’t believe my luck when they thought I was a scientist, but then she had to keep asking me questions, keep picking away at why I was in this stupid fucking town. I thought I would have to start planning from scratch again, revert into hiding to try and get you another way, but then I saw you at the supermarket. I was prepared to kill you on the spot,but once againshe stuck her nose in my business and started talking to me. I was fuming, especially as I had changed my hair to be less noticeable—”

“No … Please,” I beg, cutting him off. It's all I can do at this point. My body is broken, my mind is fading and my chest is so tight … I can't breathe.

Charlie.

He smiles lazily at me, a twitch appearing in his eye.

“She will be here soon enough, and then you will feel the pain I did WHEN I LOST MY ENTIRE FAMILY. The things I have planned for your cum dumpster of a woman are so much more than what happened with the last one.”

My body is shaking uncontrollably. I don't know if I'm going into shock from all the damage or if it's from what's about to happen, but he will have to kill me before I let him hurt her. Tristan crouches before me with a knife dangling from his fingers, a crazed look in his eyes. The look of a man who has nothing to lose.

“I'll wake you up when she gets here,” he says calmly, cutting the knife through the air and stabbing it into my thigh until it lodges into the chair beneath me. The pain is like lightning, shooting through my body, consuming me as I'm enveloped into darkness.

Chapter 39 - Charlie

Sleeping at Last - Saturn ?

I'm nervous. Shit. Why am I nervous? This man has licked parts of my body that don't see daylight and I still have clammy hands from the idea of seeing him after everything that went down between us.

Pulling into the car park of the bar I can see all of the lights are off and everything looks closed up. It's still odd that he didn't let Mel or someone else open up these past few days but then again, I'm not exactly sure how hewouldhave reacted given everything that happened. I just didn’t expect it to be like this.

Turning my car off, I sit there for a moment, staring at the main doors expecting him to come out. Expecting him to just appear with a big smile on his face telling me it was all some big misunderstanding.

But nothing happens.

No one comes.

And I'm left alone again.

The other half to my heart inside the building in front of me … but after three days of no contact, I can tell he doesn't want me and I need to remember that.

Checking my phone once again just in case he's messaged while I was driving, it remains hauntingly blank. No notifications. Nothing. I guess the reality is the sooner we talk the sooner I can start to move on, so with purposeful actions, I get out of my car, not bothering to grab my coat from the back seat. Crossing the empty car park I head toward the main door, where a crude piece of paper is attached to the front.

Is that blood?

Something’s not right. I can excuse a lot of things as me trying to read into them, but this note? Porter didn't need to renovate. There was no plan in place for him to close the bar. Sure, it was a convenient excuse but … Mel said she heardhim banging around. No doubt taking out his frustrations on something … but what if we got it all wrong? What if there was another reason he stayed away?

Pushing the door open, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the lighting, or lack thereof. Moving toward the office. Something still doesn’t sit right.

The fingerprint smudge on that note and now the metallic tang in the air. It's only when I take a few more steps into the room that I see a man not moving, sitting on a chair in the middle of the dance floor. A few more steps and the mangled shape of his legs become clearer. One severely more damaged than the other.

Gasping from the sight, I can't tell who it is. The lighting is almost non-existent in this spot but I can see that the man is passed out, his head hanging low on his chest. It takes a few seconds for everything to melt away and my training kicks in.

This man needs help.

Has Porter done this?

Rushing, I kneel before him, dropping my car keys and phone on the floor next to us. Quick assessment. Definitely status two, on the brink of status one if he doesn't get medical help soon. How long has he been like this? It looks like he's covered in fresh and old wounds that have been haphazardly tended to. Reaching for the hand closest to me which is tied to the armrest of the chair, I can see he’s not in good shape with a knife sticking out of the thigh of his mangled leg … and then my world stops. Time ceases to move as I make out bloody knuckles with the letters LILA tattooed on them.

This isn't just any man.

This is Porter.

My Pasha.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

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