Page 42 of Deceiver

He nearly killed me.

The light flicks on, and my eyes meet his. He’s kneeling on the bed, the look on his face something I could never explain even if I tried. It’s a mix of pure horror, fear, and shock. He wasn’t awake. It’s only in this moment that I realize that. He was strangling me, but he wasn’t awake.

Moving like lightning, he launches off the bed toward me.

Automatically, I scramble backward, my eyes flaring with fear.

My neck throbs, my lungs burn, and my heart is pounding against my chest.

Pausing, he stands before me, not daring to take another step.

“Bonnie,” he grinds out.

I bring a hand to my mouth to stop the agonized sob, but it’s no use, it comes out anyway, echoing through the room. He looks like he’s been punched, like the world is just crumbling down around him.

“I didn’t ...”

I know he didn’t mean it. I know that.

But the pain inside me is irrational–I can’t make sense of it.

I’m afraid, even though I know I shouldn’t be.

He takes another step, and I put my hands up, my fingers trembling. “Please no.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

His voice is so broken, so horribly pained, that it breaks my heart into a thousand tiny pieces, but I just need to breathe. I need air. I need to go, right now.

“I know,” I say quickly. “I know. I know. I just ... I’m sorry.”

I rush toward my purse and lift it, rushing out the door as I reach in to pull out my keys. Western yells my name, but I don’t stop. I pick up into a run as I reach the front gates, and the two men standing guard by them for the night narrow their eyes as I get closer. One of those men is Fury, and I know that they’re waiting for the shooter to return or for more chaos to unfold. What they’re not expecting is to see a woman running toward them, tears rolling down her face, harsh sobs being torn from her throat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Fury says, stepping in front of me, putting his hands up in front of him. “Slow down. What’s goin’ ...”

His eyes drop to my neck. Even in the light that they’re standing under, he can see the marks that are already forming. Western nearly killed me in there tonight, his grip was stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s going to leave a mark that will be nearly impossible to hide. Fury’s eyes flash and his head whips up toward Western who is approaching, still barking my name.

“What the fuck did you do?” Fury roars, lunging toward him.

“No,” I cry out. “No, Fury, he was asleep.”

He comes to a stop, panting with rage, and the two men stand, face to face. “Back down,” Western snarls. “Now.”

Fury does as he’s asked, and he turns to look at me once more.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I manage, before shoving through the gates and rushing toward my car.

I don’t look back, even as they both call out my name.

I get in my car, and I get the hell out of there.

I cry the entire way home, big heaving sobs. Memories continue to swirl in my mind, and even though I know he didn’t mean it, I also know I need a minute to process the way I’m feeling right now. I don’t have a reason to be scared, and yet I am. I’m scared of his strength, his pain, but mostly, I’m scared of his demons. He could have killed me tonight. That’s the cold hard reality of it.

I can’t stop that thought from repeating over and over in my head.

By the time I arrive home, I’m an absolute mess.

I was warned, so many times, not to get involved with Western.

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