Page 27 of It Was Always You

Chapter 22

After Owen left, I tried to distract myself by tidying up, but when I realised I’d been wiping circles on the same part of the kitchen counter for a solid ten minutes, I tried reading instead. It wasn’t long before a chill ran down my spine, the eerie feeling of being watched creeping over me. Hoping it was just my imagination but too frightened to look out the windows, I made my way into the panic room to check the cameras.

There, in high definition, was my worst fear confirmed. A black pickup truck was parked haphazardly ten feet from the front door, as if the driver had slammed on the brakes suddenly. Three men piled out and started grabbing the tanks from the exposed bed and emptied them round the cabin. That’s when I rang Owen, and now here I am, trying to get out the back door without drawing attention to myself while Owen stays on the line, the sounds of his tyres squealing and harsh breaths oddly comforting.

As much as the open plan layout of this place is beautiful to look at and the tinted windows are a godsend right now, all it would take is for one of the windows to get shattered or someone to come in either the front or back door and I’d be spotted instantly.

I’m only a few feet from the back door when I hear a crash behind me and freeze.

Every muscle in my body seizes up in fear, and I’m distantly aware of Owen screaming down the phone as I stand there frozen.

It’s only a second.

Hardly a breath.

Not even long enough to blink.

That costs me everything.

By the time I bolt for the door, the man pounces on me. My phone skitters across the floor as he pins me down, his knee in my back, twisting my arms painfully behind me.

As I kick and struggle, other men rush in. One of them grunts in pain, but my victory is short-lived as they gang up on me and hog-tie me.

I scream with all the strength I could muster, clinging to the hope that Owen would burst through the door any second.

“Someone shut the bitch up!” one of them yells. A hand appears before my face, bearing a signet ring and clutching a cloth.

Hell fucking no.

I squirm and thrash about, desperately trying to get away, but there are three of them, each weighing far more than me, and two of them are focused on holding me down with all their strength. The other grips my hair roughly, holding my face in place as he shoves the wet cloth in my face.

He holds it there until I stop thrashing about, too weak to continue, and as darkness creeps in, all I can think about is Owen and what this is going to do to him. To us. To me. To Jonathan.

I make a silent vow to fight for my life every step of the way no matter what.

I will not let these fuckers destroy the life I’ve just started to truly live if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter 23

The sight of shattered glass and the smell of gas greet me, and before I even set foot out of the car, I know I’m too late.

Way to fucking late.

Within seconds of walking into the cabin, it’s painfully obvious that I’m a fool for even trying to kid myself that I imagined that phone call. Shattered glass, upturned furniture and drops of blood greet me, and I have to fight the urge to vomit as my mind races with visions of what happened here.

I slam my fist into the wall. What does it matter when Cora has been taken? What does anything matter when my whole world has been stolen from me in the blink of an eye?

Calling Jonathan to inform him that his daughter was taken while under my care is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. After icily demanding I review the security footage for any useful information and then haul it home immediately, he hangs up on me without even the ‘fuck you’ that I rightfully deserve. Looking through the footage proves useless—the licence plate is missing, and the guys were clad in black, balaclavas included. Even when they broke into the house, there was nothing distinguishing about them or the way they attacked Cora.

Watching them pin her down and knock her out has red creeping into my vision, and I punch the computer screen, wishing I could reach through it and punch those fuckers who dared lay a hand on my Cora.

* * *

Before hitting the road, I made sure the footage was uploaded onto the cloud storage in case we needed it later before finishing what they started and setting the place on fire. Watching it burn down felt like the final nail in the coffin of the safe, happy bubble we’d been in for the past few months.

After years of waiting for her, I got two wonderful months before she was stolen from me and I’ll be damned if I don’t get her back.

If I have to burn down the city, I will.

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