Page 47 of Save Us

“What? Why?” I gasp, panicking over not having Leo while being cut off in Oliver’s horrible mansion back home.

“Because,” he snarls as he pushes me against the wall, with his hands wrapped firmly around my neck, “Xander fucking Fenton has caused me a ton of shit back here and I need to lay low for a while. Trust me, if I didn’t think you’d top yourself, I’d be making arrangements to end his life and haul your bastard child back here where she would be brought up properly!”

His words cause me to immediately panic, and my natural reaction is to begin rapidly shaking my head over such a threat. My breathing hitches up, which only encourages him to squeeze that little bit harder.

“No? That’s not what you want?” he asks, raising his brow at the same time as I release fresh tears over the mounting pressure on my neck. “Then, my darling wife, you better open your legs and give me my own damn child!”

The next ten minutes happen in a blur, but they seem to last for an excruciatingly long time. He shoves me toward the hallway table and throws me on top of it, causing letters and an ugly paperweight to tumble onto the parquet flooring. A glass ornament follows suit and smashes into tiny, fragmented pieces. As I follow the pattern of shattered diamond like shards of glass, I hear him beginning to unzip his pants. His hand crawls up my skirt before he aggressively rips my knickers away with very little effort. Even though I try not to, I can’t help emitting a painful sob as he thrusts against me, as if trying to cause as much pain as possible. This is nothing more than an act of violence, vengeance for my past, the same one he’s been extracting on me for the last five years.

Once he roars inside of my ear, I let out one last whimper of relief, knowing that at least it is coming to an end. He soon moves out of me, then plants kisses, all over my naked shoulder where he had ripped at the fabric of my shirt. I shudder against his touch, feeling half traumatized, half burning with rage. A rage I try to rein in, for he has been destroying me ever since I signed that contract. I know more than anyone, I am no match for him; fighting is futile.

He begins shushing me while stroking back my hair with an affectionate touch. Acting as though the last ten minutes were a loving embrace, not a violent attack that has left me feeling even more hollow than before.

“We leave in the morning, darling,” he pants in a whisper as he slowly pulls himself away from me and re-zips his fly. The sound of it, together with the feel of his hot cum sliding down my leg as he walks away, leaves me feeling dirty and used, like an old, discarded condom. In fact, I feel so sick, so trembly, that I just lay there, hanging over the stone table while he walks further and further away from me.

No sooner than I hear the click of the door from where he’s exited, does Pru come rushing through from the kitchen. She grabs hold of me as I slide to the floor in a weepy, wet mess. She cries with me as I cling to her like my life depends on it. I let her comfort me as I cry in uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs. When I manage to silence my pain, still inside of her arms, I close my eyes in recognition of the fact that his attacks are getting closer together, and with each one being worse than the one before.

“Are you coming with us, Pru?” I manage to whisper a good twenty minutes or so later, feeling oh so sore but forcing myself to think about what is going to happen next. She kisses my head like a mother would before letting out her own little whimper.

“No,” she replies almost apologetically, not that it would have been her decision as to whether or not she was allowed to come. “I’ve been instructed to remain here.”

“I need you to do something for me, Pru,” I say with a sniff, trying to compose myself. I then turn around to look at her for the first time since she had come in. “I need you to let Leo know where I’m going and to say to him that he knows who to tell. Can you do that, Pru?” She says nothing but nods before trying to hug me again, but I pull back and give her the most pleading expression I can. “You promise me, Pru? Swear it to me!”

“Beth, I will tell him as soon as you have left, I promise,” she says with enough conviction to soothe my anxieties. “Now, let’s get you washed, sweetheart.”

Chapter 19

Xander

Tapping away on my computer, I am momentarily stunned when my phone springs to life with an obnoxious ring. I practically growl at it; it’s been going off non-stop since the Lawrence story hit the stands this morning. Virtually every single one of those calls has been some angry old bastard demanding to know why I’ve dared to report on Oliver and his untouchable club. Each time, the only thing that has stopped me from throwing the damn thing across the room, is the fact it did do the job of directing heat onto him.

“Fenton!” I snap down the phone at the unknown number.

“Xander?” a low but soft voice asks. It stops me from staring at the screen and has me leaning back in my chair, suddenly focusing only on the conversation with this voice. It’s strange because I don’t know the voice, but at the same time, it feels like I should.

“Speaking,” I answer cautiously.

“I need you to stop reporting bad press about Oliver Lawrence,” the man says, almost as though he is begging me.

“Look, you need to go through reception if you have any complaints and if this is a threat, I don’t respond too kindly to those, so-”

“This is neither. You just need to stop so he doesn’t hurt her again!” His voice has become clipped yet broken all at the same time. His words have me clutching my hand to my mouth for fear I might be sick at any moment. I let out a deep breath and lean forward to brace my elbows on top of the desk in front of me.

“Ok, I’m listening, who is this?” I ask as calmly as I can. I don’t want to spook him; he sounds flighty enough as it is.

“I have never spoken on behalf of Angela before, and I always do as she tells me, but now he’s taken her away and I can’t help her. Every time someone tries to hurt him, he hurts her. Your last article-”

“What about it?” I ask in barely more than a whisper.

“Well, it wasn’t good for her,” he replies. “Use your imagination, Xander.”

“Shit!” I gasp as an image of Oliver attacking a woman who resembles Beth flashes through my mind.

“Yeah,” he says sadly. “Look, please listen to me. I gotta go, I have my own family to worry about.”

“Sure, thank you,” I mutter before he hangs up and I’m left sitting here, still with the phone to my ear.

Once I finally let go of the phone, I throw myself back into my chair again. The chaos of a news office sitting directly outside my office, silences into the background, while I remain staring out of the window. Both the stranger’s call and Rein’s words float around my head, making for a painful concoction of guilt, anger, and regret. Before I know it, the phone begins ringing again, and with a quick glance, it shows Fox’s number in bright, pixelated digits. Grinding my teeth together, I pick it up with a gruff hello.

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