Page 86 of Breaking Conviction
She swallowed, not wanting to admit the truth. He’d beaten her, made her live in fear, and conditioned her to make herself small. But even with all that, there was something inside her that didn’t want to hurt him, and honesty would either make him crack, crush him, or both.
Because the truth was that she’d never loved him. She had love for him, maybe, at one point in time, before he’d become the volatile monster he was now. But she’d never loved him.
Logic told her if she admitted that, she wouldn’t come out of this alive. Another part of her knew, though, if she wasn’t completely honest in that moment, he’d never leave her alone. And she was so goddamn sick of lying. It’d never gotten her anywhere but cornered.
“I loved the idea of Thea havin’ a father like mine—”
“The fuckin’ hero worship you have for that man is unhealthy, Naomi,” Dean growled out and she resisted pointing out how unhealthy their own relationship was. “Is that all you think it was? You just wanted a good dad for Thea?”
“I’ve never loved you, Dean…” At the heartbroken look in his eyes, she grimaced at her own words. “I-I’m sorry.”
He nodded slowly, swiping his hand down his face. “Right… Okay…” He stood from his crouched position and walked to the couch. Wait… not to the couch, to…
The safe.
It was underneath their side table for Dean to access easily if there ever was an intruder. Naomi stumbled to stand so she could flee, but didn’t make it in time, too stunned when the metal barrel was suddenly pointed at her.
“Sit down, sweets.”
No way in hell I’m doin’ that.
She stood straighter, holding on to her shoe for dear life like it was a shield. After one slow, measured breath, she dug the balls of her feet into the hardwood and ran full speed to the right, giving Dean a wide berth. But with her five feet, two inches against his six-foot stride, there was no hope of outrunning him.
One minute she was upright, the next she had an over two hundred pound man tackling her to the ground. Before she could register what was happening, Dean was already dragging her to the corner of the room again. He pulled her to standing and dug the cold barrel of his gun underneath her jaw.
Jules’s words from the day Naomi arrived at Sasha Saves rang in her head.
“A woman who’s been strangled by her significant other is seven hundred and fifty percent more likely to be murdered by the same person… with a gun.”
“I said… sit…down.”
A loud slam shook the house and Naomi trembled, at first thinking he’d shot her. But then quick, heavy footsteps resounded in the hallway and the metal under her chin eased away.
“Let her go.”
Wes’s voice was steel and Dean’s eyes held molten fire, threatening to burn to the ground everything that got in his way. He ground his teeth and turned around, pushing Naomi against the wall with his back. If he hadn’t just threatened her with a bullet, she would’ve taken the gesture as protective.
Naomi peered around Dean to see Wes’s blue-black hair tugged on end and his icy eyes cold enough to freeze her in her place. But not Dean. He raised his gun to put Wes in his sights, and to her horror, Wes wasn’t armed. He’d brought fists to a gunfight.
“Thea, close your eyes,” Wes commanded, but not unkindly.
Naomi darted her eyes to where Wes had glanced and saw the slatted closet door shut. When had she hidden there? Had she seen everything? The thought made her weaker than anything Dean had done to her yet.
“You must be the infamousWes.” Dean spat out the name.
Wes didn’t say anything, his eyes were almost in a faraway state, like he’d gone somewhere else.
“Come on, what do you have to say?” Dean challenged, but Wes continued to just stare at him. His mind was working, Naomi could see that. Fists clenched and unclenched. Jaw muscles ticced… but what was he doing?
“Fine then” —Dean released the safety— “there’s more than one bullet in here anyway—”
“No!” Naomi shouted and brought her heel to his head, blindly stabbing. Whatever she’d hit gave way and she swallowed back bile. Dean screamed, holding his neck with his hand while still somehow maintaining a grip on his gun. Blood spurted in her vision, leaving Naomi stunned, but still somehow able to realize the opportunity she had right in front of her.
As if they’d choreographed it, Naomi reached for the gun at the same time Wes leaped toward Dean, pushing him to the ground and striking him with his fists.
She shuffled backward, gun in hand, until she bumped into the couch.
More thumping behind her made her turn around to see Hawk and Devil entering the room from the foyer.
