Page 80 of Don't Break My Heart
“They will be fine; it’s you he wants.” He hands me my boots, and I shove my feet into them, zipping them up in record time. If his brother is in the building, we need to get the hell out of here.
He passes me the gun he had tucked in at his back. “I grabbed it before I woke you up.” It’s mine, the one that was under my pillow.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful as I shove it in the back of my jeans.
He uses his phone flashlight to guide us through the apartment. Its layout is similar to the one I have been staying in, but in the dark, it’s hard to navigate when you don’t know. And he wouldn’t know this place at all. I can’t even work out how he got into my room, it’s five stories up and he only just opened the trap door.
Right before he opens the front door to the apartment we find ourselves in, he leans in and kisses me quickly, like he couldn’t wait any longer. “Fuck, I have missed you, treasure.”
“I have missed you too,” I whisper back, because I have, and now’s not the time to rip him a new one for the shit he put me through. I hold his hand tightly, praying to whoever will listen that we get out of this place before Valentine works out we are gone.
He shoves open the front door. Using the flashlight from his phone, he shines it up one way then the next. The halls are clear. He steps out first, and I follow behind him, staying as close to his body as possible. So close I can feel his pounding heart; it feels like it’s racing just as fast as mine, and I think I’m about to have a heart attack. That in itself tells me just how bad this is.
We slink through the halls, silent as ninjas, until we finally make it to the brightly lit fire stairs, then we creep down the stairs. With a shove, Orlando bursts through the final door and into the dark street. A whoosh of something swings past my face and slams into him.
“Orlando, no!” I cry before I even have time to register what the fuck is going on. His body plummets silently to the unforgiving concrete below. Out cold. I drop down at his side, clutching the side of his face that’s now spewing blood as I stare angrily up at the asshole who just smashed him across the face with a baseball bat.
Valentine.
I reach for my gun, but in an instant, it’s knocked out of my hand with the same fucking baseball bat. There’s a crunch of bone as my hand flies back, and my gun is knocked out of my grip. “No,” I cry, grabbing at my hand protectively, pain shooting through me.
“My big brother thinks he’s so damn smart. But look what we have here, little Sloane Stryker—or is it Ava Moretti? I can’t keep up—all by her lonesome, no big bad bodyguards or brothers in sight.”
I shrink back toward Orlando, his body lying lifeless at my side. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I grab his hand, trying desperately to wake him up. Please let him be okay.
What the hell are the other boys doing upstairs if this fucker was down here waiting for us the whole time? Then an awful thought occurs to me. Maybe Orlando was wrong and he’s already killed them.
With my hand throbbing like a fucking bitch, I try to put the pain behind me as I spring into action, launching at him with all my strength, trying to remember what Onyx and Reef taught me about fighting off assholes just like this one. I slam my elbow into the side of his face, and he stumbles back, taken off guard by my swift movement.
He retaliates, running at me like a bull. He knocks me into the concrete wall behind with a sickening crunch. My back hits hard,jolting me and causing pain to radiate down my spine. I use every part of my body I can to create distance between us, kicking and scratching his skin, doing anything I can to inflict pain. I get past him, but just as I start to run, he takes hold of my hair, flinging me back into the wall. His grip is so tight it sends instant tears to my eyes. He shoves his elbow into my chest and his knee into my gut, pinning me in place. With his free hand, he presses a gun to my temple, his dark menacing eyes glaring right through me.
Fuck.
“Look how the tide has turned.” He towers over me, a dark glare hardening his features.
Then some other fucker has his hands on me. I have no idea where he came from but he’s strong as an ox, his enormous fists clamping around my arms, rendering me motionless.
Valentine grins at me like the deranged psycho I always knew he was. He brushes his hand down the side of my face gently like one of his brothers would. “It’s best not to fight, darling, you will only get hurt more.” Then the delicateness is gone, and he slams his fist across my face, jolting my head to the side.
I cry out, a sharp, involuntary sound of pain escaping my lips. His punch was so fucking violent, bright stars explode across my vision. A searing, red-hot pain throbs through me, and silent tears stream down my face. I’m fucked. I glance back down to Orlando and see he hasn’t shifted. He’s knocked out cold. Or worse. My heart aches, fresh pain radiating through me because I failed us. He was here to save me, and now he’s hurt and I’m probably about to die at the hands of his unstable brother.
As his goon holds me in place, Valentine’s hands come around my neck, his fingertips pressing in firmly. He uses his brute strength to pin me to the wall, my legs dangling like those of a doll.
Valentine’s dark menacing eyes lock with mine in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. But I’m not cowering from him. I spit at him, the blood from the open cut on my lip splattering over his face. His hands tighten around my throat, constricting my air as he chuckles out a deranged laugh. He’s fucking lost his mind.
And all I can think is how many times this monster hurt his wife just like this. I can see in his eyes that he is dead inside, no warmth or anything that makes him human left. My vision blurs as I struggle for breath. He’s going to kill me right now with his bare hands.
I fight for every shallow breath, my head spinning as he goes from one to two heads in front of me.
“Tie her up. Use whatever strength necessary, but keep her alive, she has a job to do,” he says to the other dude. Then he releases me, letting my feet fall back to the solid ground below. He takes a step back from me, a look of satisfaction on his fucked-up face as he produces a syringe and stabs the thing into my arm.
I scream and watch in horror as he drains whatever the fuck is in it directly into my arm.
“Sweet dreams, darling,” he says, then he’s gone, striding away.
I struggle against the asshole manhandling me, but he shoves me into the rock-hard wall, my already sore-as-fuck face slamming into the concrete with heavy force. Then he pins me with his oversized body and binds my hands together.
My body is so weak I can’t even fight him anymore. My vision fades in and out, my muscles turning to Jello. I slump, heavy and exhausted, into his brutal arms. I feel my body being lifted, hear the whoosh of air, followed by the sound of a car trunk creaking open, then I’m thrown down someplace hard, the impact jarring my teeth. It’s slammed shut with a final, echoing boom.
