Page 127 of The Vow

"Get off me," she cries out and kicks him, and he flies across the room.

A pang shoots through my heart. I rush toward him, but he cowers, shaking.

I crouch down, cautiously petting him. "Are you okay?"

He whines, wincing.

"Stupid mutt," my mother says.

"Shut up!" I warn, then try to assess King Madden. I gently feel his ribs and he gets up and steps toward me. Relieved he seems to be okay, I pick him up and spin toward my mother. I threaten, "Don't you ever touch him again!"

She slurs, "That damn dog ripped my pants."

I hold King Madden tighter and murmur, "It's okay, sweetie. We're getting out of here." I go to the table and put King Madden in the bag. The zipper gets stuck, so I leave it open.

"You aren't going anywhere," Noah declares.

The hairs on my arms rise. I snarl, "Watch me."

My mother declares, "Baby, you just have to listen to your father. He has a really easy plan and—"

"Shut up!" I reprimand. My insides quiver, and I move toward the elevator.

My father steps in front of me. His bloodshot eyes drill into mine. He claims, "You aren't going anywhere."

King Madden barks loudly.

I pull my shoulder back so he's out of my father's reach, not sure what he will do. I reply, "Move!"

"Don't fight us, baby. You can't leave us poor," my mother repeats.

"Shut her up," my father orders, pointing.

A pop and then a thud fills the air.

A shiver runs down my spine. I spin, and bile rises in my throat. My mother's limp body lies on the floor with blood pooling around her head. Noah has a gun pointed at me. I put my mouth into my elbow, trying to keep the contents in my stomach down.

My father's voice is the same one that always haunts me. He used it when he kidnapped me and wanted me to choose which one of his men to marry. He threatens, "You'll be joining your mother at some point. But for now, I suggest you make it easier on yourself and do what we require."

26

Riggs

The waves crash against the shoreline, and three kids on boogie boards ride the latest surge.

For hours, I've stared at the ocean, attempting to ignore the people on the public beach. I never come here, preferring my privacy, but I couldn't stay home. I rarely get this agitated, but I am.

There's no way I'm subjecting Blakely to it. I don't trust what I'll do right now. The voice inside my head screams to lock her up and hold her hostage so she can't ever leave me. But the rational part of me knows it's not an option.

Yet I'm tempted and don't trust what might happen when I get like this. The anger and fear swirl so fast that I can barely see straight.

The sun blazes at full force to the point it's getting uncomfortable. I pull out my phone to see what time it is and realize it's off. I turn it on. Dozens of missed messages pop up. The only ones I'm interested in are from Blakely. I open the chain, and nausea pummels me.

I try to call her, but it goes to voicemail. I text her.

Me: Where are you?

I jump off the sand, head toward the car, and call Noah, but he doesn't answer. So I text.

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