Page 57 of Hunted By Valentine

He lowers himself to the floor, and I instinctively curl in on myself, knowing that he’s just gotten started. Michael doesn’t waste any time.

Within seconds, I feel the first blow to my body. My arms shield my face as I desperately try to protect myself from his savage onslaught. The soundof his grunts and my own anguished cries fill the room, a symphony of suffering that echoes through the dark corners of my soul.

The taste of blood fills my mouth, and my vision blurs as I struggle to maintain consciousness. But I refuse to give in. I won’t let him break me. Because if he does… I might… damn. There’s no ‘might’ about it. If he takes me to the basement, I’m not sure I won’t let Valentine’s name spill. In all the years, I’ve never been able to hold anything back when Michael brings the whip out.

“No!” I scream.

With a surge of adrenaline, I force myself to uncoil, my body springing into action as I lash out at Michael with fierce determination. My fists connect with his chest, each blow fueled by the rage and desperation that have been building within me for so long. Surprise shines in his eyes, followed by a brief flash of uncertainty as I fight back with a ferocity he never expected.

It’s not enough, though.

His strength overpowers me, his hands closing around my throat as he slams my head against the floor. I gasp for air, my lungs burning as I claw at his fingers, trying to break free from his crushing grip. The world around me fades in and out, the edges of my vision growing dark as I struggle to stay conscious.

“You’ll pay for this, you fucking bitch,” Michael snarls as he slams my head into the floor one more time.

Then he stands up, kicking my arm once before leaving the bathroom. Blood seeps from the back of my head, the scent overwhelmingly potent. But as soon as I hear the front door slam shut, I drag myself across the floor until my trembling hand can reach my bag. My fingers fumble as they search for my phone.

Jack… I need to call Jack.

I manage to press the button to dial his number and put my phone on speaker.

“Ruby?” Jack’s voice is a welcome sound, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. But then I hear the worry in his tone, the fear that he’s not used to hiding. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

My voice is barely a whisper as I try to speak, my words coming out in a rush of panic. “Jack… I-I… need help.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Where are you, Ruby? What’s going on?” His tone is heavy with tension, with fear.

My mind races with fear and confusion, making it hard to form the words to explain. I stumble over my words, trying to convey the urgency of my situation. “I’m… I’m at home. Michael… he… he attacked me.”

When he speaks again, his fear is replaced by fury, the protective instincts that have always been a part of him coming to the surface. “I’m on my way, Ruby. Just hold on. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As I listen to the sound of Jack’s voice, I feel a glimmer of hope. He’ll help me. He’ll make sure I’m safe. But then my vision starts to waver, the darkness closing in around me as I slip in and out of consciousness. The phone slips from my hand, and I feel myself slipping away, my last thought a desperate plea for help.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when I regain consciousness, my head still throbbing and my vision blurred. My eyelids flutter open, revealing a dimly lit room that’s unfamiliar. At the distant sound of raised voices followed by footsteps echoing nearby, I let out a broken whimper.

Bits and pieces of memories swirl through my mind like shards of broken glass. The bathroom. Valentine’s bite. The desperate call to Jack. And then… nothing.

My head throbs in time with my racing heart as I struggle to sit up, the sheets rustling beneath me. I wince at the sharp pain that shoots through my body, a cruel reminder of the beating I endured.

The voices grow louder, making it all too easy to recognize them; it’s my brothers. Their heated words filter through the haze in my mind, fueling my confusion.

“You should have told me, Jack! I could have stopped this!” Nick’s voicebooms, filled with fury.

“Fuck off,” Jack retorts, his tone tense. “Why is it you always need to spin shit around like it’s affecting you? Our sister was fucking beaten unconscious and you’re worried about your image? Go fuck yourself.”

“Fuck me? Fuck you for trying to hide this from me,” Nick spits back.

I strain to listen, my heart pounding in my chest.

The door to the room flies open, and Jack storms in, his face a mask of concern and anger. His eyes sweep over me, and if his wince is anything to go by, I’m not going to win any beauty pageants any time soon. In fact, whatever damage he sees on my battered body seems to ignite a fire within him, his jaw clenching tightly.

I look down at myself, realizing I’m dressed in what I assume is one of his t-shirts. It’s so big it’s hanging off one shoulder.

Tentatively, I lift my hand and cup the back of my head. Instantly, my head pounds, and I hiss through clenched teeth as my fingers touch what feels like… “Did I get stitches?” I ask. My voice is so hoarse it comes out like a croak. I clear my throat and try again. “Did I—”

“Yes,” Nick barks from behind Jack.

“Rubes,” Jack breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

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