Page 129 of Ruined By Protection
"Fuck you, Elliott!" she screams. "You're the one going to hell! You killed her! You killed her baby!" Her entire body shakes as years of abuse transform into outrage.
I move to support her but she's not finished.
"You're not a man, you’re a monster and a fake and a liar! And I wish I could see you rot. But I won’t be there, because I’ll be happy in my new life, far away fromyou."
Elliott leans far back, laughing and laughing then suddenly lunges forward against Noah's restraint. Daniel steps between them, gun raised, and I reach to pull Hazel back against my chest.
"That's enough now," I murmur against her hair. "You’ve had your say and now he's not worth another second of your life."
She fights me for a second then collapses against me, sobbing. I lift her into my arms and carry her to the door, her face buried in my neck.
"I'll be back," I tell Noah over my shoulder, my meaning crystal clear.
Noah nods once, his face grim. "Take your time. We've got this under control."
I carry Hazel out into the mansion's opulent foyer and up the solid oak staircase. With each step, my resolve hardens.
"Where can I leave you to rest awhile?" I ask, unsure which hall to take in this oversized den of agony.
Hazel lifts her head, eyes red and swollen. "Guest room," she whispers. "Second door on the right."
I follow her directions, keeping her cradled against my chest. The weight of her feels right in my arms, even in this hellish moment. I need to get her somewhere safe, somewhere she can breathe before I return to finish what we started.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs against my neck. "I shouldn't have lost control like that."
"Don't apologize," I tell her firmly. "Not for anything. Not today."
We reach the guest room she indicated and I support her in one arm while I slightly turn the handle. The brass hinges creak as I shove the door open with my shoulder.
I freeze in the doorway, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.
"What the fuck?" What I see inside makes my blood ice.
CHAPTER 41
Hazel
Ifeel the exact moment Matteo's body goes rigid, infusing its tension into mine like butter melting into toast. I lift my tear-streaked face from his chest, following his gaze into the guest room. The scream dies in my throat before it can escape my lips.
A woman is tied to a chair in the center of the room. Red hair cascades around her shoulders, tangled and wild. Her wrists are bound to the armrests with zip ties that have cut into her skin, leaving angry red welts. Duct tape covers her mouth, but her huge round eyes speak volumes. She writhes against her restraints when she sees us, desperate muffled sounds escaping from deep in her airways.
"Oh my God," I gasp.
Matteo sets me down carefully and he moves stealthily toward her, pulling a knife from his boot while checking three-sixty for a trap. I follow behind him, horrified at discovering another of Elliott’s victims.
"It's okay, you can trust us," I tell her as I reach to pull back the edge of the tape. "We're going to help you."
The woman’s mascara has run down her cheeks in black rivers, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Nevertheless the moment I’m close enough to examine her features I recognize her instantly.
“She’s the redhead from the photo,” I murmur to Matteo.
“Vanessa,” he snarls.
Why is the woman who tried to tear Matteo and I apart with a fake image hog-tied in Elliott’s mansion?
I peel the tape off as gently as I can, wincing as she flinches.
The moment her mouth is free, she gasps for oxygen. "Please," she begs, her voice cracking and hoarse. "Please help me. I'm so sorry. I didn't know—I didn't know what he was going to do."
