Page 164 of One More Heartbeat
“For God’s sake,” Lola grumbles. “You weren’t told to be slow.” Her gaze shifts to Peony, and her eyes frost with pure loathing. “Maybe we should punish the baby for your indolence.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. Being submissive is against my nature, butit’s better to be submissive than anger the she-witch. “Sorry, I moved as fast as I can.”
“Why the hell did you have to be disabled?” she mutters. “No one has time to wait for you.”
I don’t argue the disabled comment. I’d rather she believes that’s the reason I’m slow than to know the truth and shoot me up with whatever several of the girls are strung out on.
“Put her on the couch.” Lola’s tone is sharper than the knife on the table.
My chin lifted just a fraction, I walk to the couch, my arms quaking from the effort of carrying Peony downstairs.
Grab the knife and get out of here. Stab those assholes if you have to.
If only it were that easy.
I bend at the waist to put Peony down on the couch, my body still trembling. The trembling has less to do with the spondyloarthritis than it does about what’s going to happen.
Peony clings to me, her eyes as round as saucers. “Nooooooooo.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper on her temple, tears stinging my eyes at the lie I’m trying to convince us both of. “This will be over before either of us realizes it. I just need to put you on the couch for a few minutes. That’s all. I promise.”
Her hold on me loosens just enough for me to put her on the couch, but she’s still screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She’s barely out of my arms before Lola snatches hold of my wrist and drags me to where The Bear is standing, heating the knife blade in the flame.
The reality of what they’re planning to do sinks in, lighting a match to horror and terror. The emotions sizzle and burn like an out-of-control fire, destroying the last ray of hope I had clung to.
My eyes widen. “NoNoNoNoNo.” I struggle and scream, yanking at Lola’s harsh grasp, and try to push her away with my other hand. “Please don’t.”
The bulky man-wolf grabs my arm. I frantically slap at his face, his arms, his chest—anything and everything my palm can make contact with. But nothing seems to faze him.
Peony continues screaming, her high-pitched voice growing hoarse.
He shoves me onto the chair and catches hold of my arms. Using his body weight, he pins them to the armrests. Undeterred, I wiggle and squirm and kick out. I beg, I plead, I shout obscenities. I fight for my life, for the right to have a say in what happens to my body.
But his stone grip doesn’t loosen.
“Sit still, or we’ll brand the baby too.” The cold hostility in Lola’s voice flicks a switch inside me, and I stop moving, the fight ripped from me.
Please don’t touch her.
I try to say the words out loud, but my voice fails me, the lining of my throat burning.
The lingering fog in the periphery slips in and clouds my brain, and I brace for what will no doubt be the worst pain of my life.
Music clicks on. Some sort of country song I vaguely recognize. One I hope to never hear again. The volume is cranked up, not to the point of deafening, but loud enough to mask any noise I might make from being heard outside.
I close my eyes, unable to look at Peony, unable to take the fear inhereyes. She’s screaming and crying, but I don’t have strength left in me to tell her I’m okay. The lie forms a knot in my throat, preventing the words from escaping.
A sharp, scalding pain cuts into my skin, again and again and again. The faint acrid smell of burning flesh taunts me.
Through the fog, I hear my never-ending screams, my throat burning more intensely with each one.
A loud knock echoes from the front door. It’s nothing more than my imagination. A delusion. Brought on by the pain.
I keep screaming…wishing, praying, pleading to who-knows-what that the knocking isn’t just in my head. That someone has finally found us. That after everything we’ve been through, we get to go home.
Yelling and a bang that seems to vibrate through the house follows the knocking. But the stinging cut of the knife and the burning has stopped. That’s all I care about.
