Page 2 of Fortress of the Cursed

I know what Fynn will do when I call him, and a part of me doesn’t care anymore.

I lost track of how to feel safe.

But I need to get out of here and I can’t do that unless I call an ambulance.

Tapping Fynn’s name, I hold my cell to my ear. I try my best to breathe slowly, though pain sears through me every time I take in air. My quiet sobbing can’t be controlled.

“Baby cakes,” he teases down the line. I always hated that nickname, hence the reason he likes to call me it. “Long time no see. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I’ve never been so relieved to hear his voice. It wraps around me like a warm blanket. Keeping me safe.

“F… Fynn …” I garble, barely getting the words out.

“Sage?” His voice is laced with concern. “Is that you? What’s wrong? I can barely hear you.”

I might not see him very often now that I’m in med school, but we’ve always been there for one other.

“Fynn… Oh, thank god… it’s… it’s me…” I trail off, my hand covering my eye where it hurts. I feel like I might pass out.

“Sage. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I take a breath, but the pain shoots through me once more, making me wince.

“I’m in t-trouble, Fynn… I need your… h… help.”

“Where are you? Is it that fucking prick of a boyfriend again? If he’s done something to you…”

While he knows we’ve been having problems, he doesn’t know the half of it. If he did, I’m sure Cam would be a dead man. That’s what worries me.

Shit.

I don’t want him dead. I just need to get away from here before he comes back.

Fynn and I are both the same age, having grown up together and formed an unlikely friendship when we were younger.

He’d never hurt anyone who didn’t truly deserve it.

He’d never do this to me.

Just hearing his voice tells me it’s going to be okay.

“Sage? Sage answer me!” Fynn shouts when I don’t respond.

Jolting me out of my thoughts, I shake myself from my reverie. “I’m at the townhouse… Fynn, it’s bad… He… he hit me… he might come back… I don’t know what to do.”

I hear him curse loudly. It sounds like he’s out on the street because I can hear traffic. I also hear another male voice, meaning he’s with someone.

“What the fuck?” he bellows.

“Fynn… I’m scared… can you come get me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses again. “I’m coming…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry, baby cakes. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says, his voice strained. “How long ago did he leave?”

“I… I don’t know.” I’ve lost track of time. Was it ten minutes? An hour? Two hours?

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