Page 105 of Her Redeemed Protector

As I sit hunched over on the crude wooden stool, every inch of my body throbs with pain from staying in the same position for so long. My hands remain bound tightly behind me to a sturdy pillar. I force myself to remain composed and avoid doing anything that might provoke them, especially now that they know I’m expecting.

The air is thick, filled with the murmurs of The Hog speaking in hushed tones to Juliet. Abruptly, his head jerks up, his attention snagged by something outside the dingy room.

“I’m gonna check on the boys,” he grunts, his heavy boots thudding as he exits.

Juliet watches while I silently will it to be Huxley on his way.

She turns to me, pacing, her gaze unsettlingly fixed on my abdomen. “I’ll earn a lot of money from that fetus of yours,” she sneers, looming over me. “But is a few dollars really worth my patience? I think it’s time he learns a lesson. And you too.”

“You won’t get anything from hurting me!” I retort in defiance.

A shadow passes over her face, her eyes stormy. “Iremember the way he looked at you when he first introduced us. He kept saying it was over between you two, but he was such a terrible liar. I was in love with him then. And so incredibly jealous.” Her confession is thick with unresolved anger. “I tried to become you. Picked up your mannerisms, learned to ride. I even fucking dyed my hair so it looked like yours. And still, he barely gave me a glance.”

“He did love you, Juliet,” I whisper, trying to connect with her.

She stops, her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe I can still come out on top. He has no idea what’s happening here. He’ll take the ransom bait. That way, I still get his money, and at the same time…” Her voice trails off as she reaches behind her. She pulls something from a rack—an old oar.

No!

She raises it menacingly above my belly.

Fear surges through me, pure and raw, fueling a sudden burst of adrenaline. I flex my legs and launch a desperate kick toward her. The oar drops to the floor. I hadn’t realized the force of my own action, a mother’s instincts, and I watch in horror as Juliet is propelled backward, her body crashing into the rack. Rifles and miscellaneous items rain down around her, clattering to the ground.

As the dust settles, Juliet remains suspended in a chaotic web of debris, her body caught between an awkward half-stance and a desperate half-dangle amid the wreckage.

“Juliet!” I try to free myself to help her.

But her mouth moves in silence before falling still. Blood oozes from her chest. A piercing agony resonates through my body as I notice a sharp hook protruding out of her ribcage.

“No. Juliet… Juliet!”

Thoughts of Kayla flood my mind. This ending, so harsh and unintended, is one that I regret. The phrase ‘violent end’that I whispered in my vow that day, as I lay in a pool of my own blood, now torments me like the mistakes I can’t undo. But it had come down to a confrontation between Juliet and my unborn child. At that moment, I had no choice but to fight for my own defense.

I take rapid breaths, calming myself the hell down, averting my gaze from Juliet’s lifeless stare. I rub the rope that ties my wrists against the pillar, hoping it’ll somehow weaken. The rough fibers bite into my skin, each movement sending a burning sensation through my arms, but I grit my teeth and keep going. Sweat trickles down my forehead, mingling with the dust and grime.

The minutes stretch on, each one feeling like an eternity, but I refuse to give up. I’ve already planned my next move for when I’m free. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it, but I have to steal Juliet’s boots to escape and make a run for the woods.

Despite my attempts, the rope isn’t budging. From the texture and thickness, I’m certain it’s a hunting rope, the kind that could drag a dead elk without fraying. It’s unyielding, and the knot binding me is expertly tied. Whoever secured it knew exactly what they were doing. I glance around, searching for anything that might help, any small advantage.

But then, The Hog storms back, his booming voice shattering the brief silence. “Juliet, we’ve got to go!” he bellows, but his command cuts off abruptly as his eyes widen at the scene before him.

“Fuck!” he repeatedly shouts as he catches his lifeless partner, more out of frustration than grief. Then he spots me among the chaos, and his face contorts with fury. “You cunt!” he roars, pointing a thick finger at me. “You screwed me out of my fucking retirement!”

I curl myself, pressing against the pillar I’m tied to as if itcould provide a barrier. The Hog closes the distance in just a few strides. Standing well over six feet tall, his presence is overwhelming, his bulk a looming shadow. Fear grips me as I let him see my dread and helplessness, hoping to avoid any risk of him hurting me.

He roughly grabs me, his hands clamping around my arms like iron bands. He releases the ropes binding my abraded wrists, only to replace them with a cloth gag, effectively silencing any protest or call to whoever is out there disturbing the Brutes’ operation. Finally, my hands are back in restraints.

The monster lifts me effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder like a rucksack. The world tilts, a dizzying, disorienting swirl of different shades of black as he marches me outside to the back of the lodge.

The cold bites at my exposed skin as he dumps me unceremoniously near a rusting freezer. “Well, barn girl. Better hope your guy’s got deep pockets for your ransom,” he sneers cruelly. I’m sure he still believes that guy is Fabian. “Otherwise, I might just leave you here to rot like a discarded game carcass. Wouldn’t that be something? Perishing in the very place you once tried to save. You got lucky then, but luck’s a fickle friend, isn’t it?”

His hands push against my shoulders, and I’m thrust into the coffin of the dead freezer. The musty smell of decay and forgotten summers hits me as I scramble against the cold metal. Desperation surges as the lid begins to close. Instinctively, I jam a leg in the gap. A sharp pain shoots through my bare foot as the metal bites into it again and again.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body shaking not just from the cold but from the raw fear and adrenaline coursing through me.

“No!” I cry out. “Let me go!” I push against the lid with every ounce of strength I have left, my muscles screaming inprotest. But he’s stronger. His rough hands grab my leg, forcing it back as he shuffles my swollen foot inside.

The lid slams shut with a definitive clang, the sound of the lock clicking into place a harsh finale to my hopes of escape.

---