Page 47 of Catching His Runaway

He’s on the ground, cradling a patch of red soaking in the fabric of his pants. If I have to guess, one of the bullets from his men has missed one of mine and got him in the leg. Good. The prick deserves it. Deserves even more with what Tommy looks like he wants to do.

I don’t try to calm him down before he does something drastic. My eyes follow him, and just like that, the fight happening in the background blurs into white noise. All I can do is focus on the man who has come to rescue me.

I want Tommy to hurt him. That bit hasn’t changed. Even more now with everything Elijah’s done to me.

He steps on Elijah’s injury, and I see the way his eyes flash as he puts his weight on his wound. The noise that leaves Elijah fuels him, and I’m surprised he doesn’t crack a smile.

“You hurt her. Put your disgusting hands on her.” Tommy adds more weight, making it possible to scramble away as he howls out in pain.

For weeks, Elijah haunted me. Like a power play, he’s always made me look over my shoulder. To see him soweak…

Do I fuel the fire and tell him everything that’s happened to me? About the foul taste that fills my mouth that isn’t from blood?

If I piss Tommy off, he’ll kill him too quickly, leaving me unsatisfied. I want Elijah to hurt.

Tommy must be in agreement, because once he’s satisfied with the pain radiating from his legs, he moves to pull the guy up to his feet. He doesn’t give him time to find good footing, nor does he need to.

I listen to Elijah’s pained screams and watch as Tommy buries his thumbs into his eyes, spilling more red. He’s growling more threats, more promises of pain as he lifts him into the air like he weighs nothing. In comparison to their sizes, he looks weightless.

Tommy has made it clear that he enjoys torturing people, causing pain to those who deserve it. Something tells me he’s not normally this messy. Not this offended by someone before.

My chest burns as the screams mute the rest of the pleas for their lives surrounding us. The stench of death is growing by the minute.

Once he’s dragging his bloodied fingers down his face, I watch as Tommy wraps his hands around his throat. He doesn’t make Elijah’s death quick by snapping his neck. Instead, he chooses to squeeze the life from him, letting him suffocate under my watch.

When Elijah stops clawing and kicking, I realize I’m holding my breath. Finally letting it out, my body sinks deeper into the chair.

Relief. That’s the only thing filling my body. I’ve never wanted someone dead before, not like this.

When Tommy releases the lifeless body and drops him to the ground, he doesn’t look away from Elijah for what feels like an eternity. Like he’s searching for any signs of life, his muscles only loosen slightly when there are none.

Blinking, I realize it’s pure silence now. Looking around, I can see why. So many bodies. So much blood.

My stomach tightens, and the back of my throat twitches like I want to throw up. Swallowing down the gag, I don’t let myself cave in to what I’m feeling.

When Tommy turns toward me, it’s impossible to look at the mess at my feet.

His eyes are black, darkened from the kill. He’s got some flecks of red on his cheek I’m just now noticing. Reminds me of a shark after a meal. A predator lurking in the shadows.

I’m surprised my legs don’t give out when I stand. Instead of fear filling my chest, I’m feeling light as a feather.

“You came for me.” My words shake as I whisper them.

Stepping forward when I sway, he catches me in his arms. His jaw works like he’s trying to say something, but the words don’t come fast enough. Or maybe he’s struggling. Finally, he nods.

Tommy is pulling me closer into his arms. Not just to save me from the drug’s effects, but to hug me. His body is so hard, like a force to be reckoned with. At the same time, he’s so warm.

“I’m sorry.” Rasping the words out, he buries his face into the crook of my neck. “He put his filthy hands on you.”

I’ve never imagined Tommy to be a hugger, but once he’s got his arms wrapped around me, I know there’s no leaving his grip until he’s ready.

I don’t want to let him go. When I’m pressed against him like this, I don’t have to see the horror show around us.

Breathing in, the smell of his faded body wash helps block out the scent of blood. Breathing in deeply, my chest swells, and I can feel the heavy thumps against my body. It’s not just my heart going crazy, but his as well.

He’s afraid. Now that the anger has seeped from his body, only the truth resides. I’ve never seen this man fearful in my life, but the way he clings to me is nothing shy of it.

“I’m okay,” I promise against his throat. “Are you okay?”

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