Page 112 of One Secret

She hadn't been missing. She had been here.

'What happened?' I snarl.

As an answer, Darcy reaches back to push the bathroom door wide.

Hector Ramirez, unconscious and drooping against his moorings, is tied to the toilet. His bindings are a hodgepodge. I spot a belt, a series of cables that I suspect came from the back of the television, and more bed sheet strips. My socks are in his mouth, fastened into place with what was one of my t-shirts, now twisted into a rope and tied around the back of his head. Beneath his flopping hair, one side of Ramirez's face is coming out in a bruise, his nose is bloody but no longer flowing and his shirt is a mess of slashing tears, sweat stains, and blood splatter.

'What the...' My instinct is to check his ties but I can already see several complex knots in the cabling. Clearly, Darcy knows what she's doing. 'What the hell happened to him?'

'I did,' Darcy admits, closing and locking the door on the mercenary. 'Or, to be more exact, he happened to me.'

For the first time, I notice the rough quaver in Darcy's voice. The way she keeps swallowing. The touch she makes to her neck.

I grab her by the shoulders and turn her towards the light.

'Cyrus don't—'

'Let me see, dammit!'

My pulse stalls out again as the light hits Darcy's neck. Bruises. Heavy, darkly red bruises are quickly thickening to purple. Each the length and shape of a finger. Right there on her throat.

'He tried to...' I can't even finish the sentence.

'Yeah,' Darcy swallows, 'but he didn't.'

'He could have killed you...' My voice is so thready I don't even recognize it as mine.

'Cyrus?' Darcy's voice suddenly sounds distant… almost far away.

'Shit, he could have... Darcy, he could have killed you...' I've lost control of my manic babbling.

'Cyrus? Whoa, Cyrus, you just went super white. Look, we need to sit you down.'

He choked her. He wrapped his hands around her fucking neck and tried to choke the life out of her!

I feel myself split into two minds: the first wants to barge into that bathroom and stab Ramirez straight through each of those fucking hands of his; the other is starting to shake so badly it's like I'm having a seizure.

'Cyrus?' Darcy's voice has shot up in concern. She crowds in close, her hands on my chest. 'Cyrus, baby, your heart is beating really fast, you need to calm down. Come on...'

I don't see it happen: one minute I'm on my feet and the next I'm sitting on one of the beds.

Is this the bed he threw her against? Is this where he tried to kill her?

'Cyrus, listen to me…'

Did she cry? Did she beg for her life? For the life of the baby?

Dear God, the baby...

'Is it... are they...' I seem to have lost all control of my tongue.

'Cyrus, I want you to breathe for me,' Darcy's voice is firm and warm in my ears.

Breathe for her. Who was breathing for her when that fucker had his hands around her throat?

'Listen to me, Cyrus!'

A sharp pain hits me across the face and I'm jolted back to the present, surprised to find Darcy leaning over me with her hand raised. Did she slap me? I've fallen back on the bed and she's on all fours, braced over my prone figure. She shakes my shoulders.

---