Page 59 of The Lie
“Let's go. Let me take you home.” I stand and hold out my hand, palm up.
Roman doesn't hesitate to take it. I help him stand, but as his face contorts in pain and he stumbles a little, I have to wrap my arm around his waist to support his weight.
The yelling in the other room grows louder; it sounds like someone's here.
“Roman. Mila,” Hunter yells out.
I release a deep breath in relief. In my worry, I forgot to call Hunter to let him know where I was. The girls must have told him I came here. But he didn’t call me…oh, shit. I left my phone in the car.
“Hunter,” I scream out.
I need him. Roman needs help getting out to the car, and as much as I want to say I’m strong, I’m already struggling with his weight against mine.
I open the bedroom door to see Hunter pushing past Damon.
“Damon, fuck off. We’re taking him this time, and there’s nothing you can do.” He shoves Damon, who stumbles back into the kitchen.
Hunter rushes to us and takes Roman’s weight. “Hey there, Romeo. I got you.”
Roman just grunts at Hunter, and it’s obvious Hunter called him that in an attempt to get a rise out of him. Roman used to hate when kids called him that in school when we were younger.
I run back into the room to grab the bag I’d packed for him, scanning the room for his phone and wallet. Once I quickly add them to the backpack, I give the room one last look as I walk out, closing the door behind me.
Roman’s father is in his face, yelling about money, and I storm out there and shove him. I think he’s just as surprised as I am. Fuck, why did I do that? But I don’t let him know I’m scared.
“Fuck off. He owes you nothing,” I seethe and turn to Roman, who watches his father with a deadly expression.
“Roman, let’s go.” Hunter pulls him toward the door, and I start to walk with him when I’m yanked back by my hair and I scream, reaching back to the hand as I feel hairs ripping from my skull.
Suddenly, Roman’s there, above me, his hand wrapped around his father’s throat. “Let. Her. Go.” His voice is raspy and deep. Considering the state I found him in, the strength he displays is shocking.
Hunter helps me up and frees me from Damon’s grip.
“Stupid little cunt.”
I turn just as Damon backhands me. My head whips to the side, my cheek burning from the force. My hand goes to my cheek as tears roll down.
Roman roars as he shoves Damon back, and he goes flying, crashing into the kitchen cabinet. The door hangs, broken. But he doesn’t stay down. Damon gets up and charges at Roman, but Hunter steps in, his fist flying into Damon’s gut, who doubles over, groaning.
“Come on, let’s go.” Hunter grabs my hand and wraps his arm around Roman. But he’s not moving; he’s watching his father. I look back at Damon, and he’s holding a knife now.
“You can’t take him from me. You can’t take my supply, you greedy whore. It’s mine. You can get your kicks somewhere else.”
I stand frozen. He just called his son his supply. As in, he only cares about Roman because he has money Damon can steal for his drug addiction.
Damon lunges at me with the knife, and I’m caught off-guard. I scream and throw up my right arm to block the hit. He hits my cast with the knife, and his weight pushes me down. There’s a scramble as Hunter and Roman pull Damon from me, trying to get the knife away.
There’s a lot of yelling as I attempt to pick myself up. Damon kicks out at me, and I’m thrown back against the wall, hitting my head on something sharp. I pull away, placing my hand back there, and it comes away warm and sticky with blood. My hands shake as I look up at the scene in front of me. It’s like everything’s being played in slow motion.
Roman has the knife in his hand, and Hunter holds Damon’s throat as he lashes out at him. Damon keeps swinging his arms, trying to connect, but he’s looking worn down. And when Hunter shoves him back, he lands on his ass, the dirty dishes in the skink clattering, and he just sits there, staring up at them. Giving up a fight he’s never going to win.
Roman stumbles toward me, and I scramble up to hug him. I wrap my arms around him as Hunter picks up the bag, calling out, “Come on.”
My ears are ringing from the hit to the head, but I don’t let go of Roman. He shakes in my arms. When I see movement from the side, and the glint of silver, I scream.
Damon has another knife and he swings. I shove Roman, the knife slicing down and catching my upper left arm as Damon stumbles past us. I look down in shock. A trail of blood trickles down my arm; it’s not deep, but I will need stitches.Fuck.
“No,” Roman cries out as he pulls me toward him, turning just in time to see Damon lunging again with the knife, but Roman hits him in the stomach.
