Page 118 of Five Fingers of Death

My eyes slipped closed just as I heard the roar come from Ebarardo’s lips. The guard’s body was torn from mine and he was tossed against the wall.

“You dare to touch my wife?” Ebarardo shouted.

I saw the knife and forced myself to watch. This was all my fault. My eyes locked with the guard’s as Ebarardo slid the knife into his stomach, then thrust upward, ripping his abdomen open. Excruciating pain crossed his face as Ebarardo continued his assault. It lasted for what felt like hours.

Blood sprayed everywhere, screams echoed off the walls, and pain lanced through my stomach. I knew what came next.

A tortured moan ripped from my throat as I bent over, wailing in agony.

“Izzy, please.”

That voice was trying to pull me out of this hell, but it was too late. I was in too deep, unable to see anything but the stairs looming just ahead of me. Ebarardo was advancing on me now, yelling at me and calling me names. I was a whore, giving myself over to his guards when I belonged to him. I hadn’t learned my lesson well enough in the beginning. Maybe it was time for me to go back to the cell.

I whimpered and cried, praying my baby would hold on just a little longer, all the while knowing it was already too late. When I collapsed to the floor, I felt the first kick. It was so brutal that I was sure the baby’s heart stopped right there. Tears mixed with blood from my mouth as he slammed his fist into my face. All I could do now was hold on until the pain passed—until darkness washed over me.

But he wasn’t done yet. He grabbed me by the arms, jerking me upright. My stomach stretched painfully, tearing something inside me. “Please…the baby.”

“How do I even know that bastard is mine?” he asked scathingly. “Did you spread your legs for him? Were you down on your knees, sucking his cock like the whore you are?”

My head lolled on my shoulders as pain crashed through my body. I could feel blood trickling down my legs. I already knew it had started. I looked to the ceiling, counting down the seconds until it happened…there. He let go of me, dropping me at the top of the stairs. I watched as the ceiling grew more distant with every second that passed. My body bounced down each step. Sharp corners of marble cut into my sides and slammed into my head as I rolled to the bottom.

When I finally landed at the bottom, my body was twisted at an unnatural angle. My cheek was pressed to the cool floor—the only relief I found in this horrible nightmare. His footsteps echoed off the stairs as he made his way to me.

I prayed to black out, to not feel the worst of it. But that never happened. It replayed in my mind every time, tormenting me and dragging me through every horrible moment. I wasn’t even sure if it was all real or if it was something my mind made up to explain what happened.

“Please,” I whispered one last time.

Then I felt the weight of the first kick, and I knew the pain would never stop.

* * *

“Izzy, please,” Jason whispered, brushing my hair back from my face.

I jerked from his touch, crying out as the remnants of the dream clung to me. Terrified, I scrambled back to the corner of the sofa, pulling my legs in tight to my chest. I could still feel my baby dying inside me. Every bruise that battered my body felt like it was still there like a livewire.

I was caught between reality and my nightmare. I knew I was no longer dreaming when I saw Jason’s face, but my head was still stuck in that terror-filled state. It was like I had never left.

“Izzy, it’s okay. It’s Jason,” he said softly, holding his hands out to show me he wouldn’t hurt me.

I dropped my gaze, focusing on his fingers, counting each one of them. When I was done with that, I shifted my eyes to his, focusing on their dark depths. Jason. Dark brown eyes. Floppy black hair that curled slightly in the humidity. Tan skin, muscular frame. Hard jawline, but soft smile.

My eyes drifted back to his outstretched arms. Gentle hands.

The terror slowly receded in my mind as I got a foothold on reality. I wasn’t back on the island. Zavala was dead. So was the guard. I had forgotten about him, how he had tried to save my life. He was the reason Zavala tried to kill me that day. He thought I was having an affair with the guard.

I wiped my hand over my face, brushing away the tears, and that’s when I noticed I was wet from more than crying. I was soaked. My head was coated in sweat and my shirt clung to me like I’d just run a ten-mile marathon.

A mewling whimper left my mouth as my emotions caught up with me. She was really gone. I hadn’t saved her, just like all the other times. I’d lost her that day because I’d tried to escape. It was the last time I ever thought of leaving that island.

Jason was by me seconds later, wrapping me in his arms as I cried. I clung to his shirt, twisting it in my fingers as I grieved for my child yet again. When would it end? Would I ever move past this part of my life? Would I ever feel whole again?

“I’m here,” he whispered, running his hand up and down my sweaty back. “I’ve got you.”

I didn’t know why and I didn’t care. For the first time ever, I allowed someone to comfort me, to hold me after my nightmares. All these years, I’d fought alone, struggled to keep myself together. But this time I didn’t have to. He was here, doing it for me.

I buried my face in his neck, holding tight as the worst of the nightmare passed. The soothing feel of his hands on my back helped to alleviate the worst of the terror, but that left me wondering what I was going to do when I had to go home. I wouldn’t always have Jason by my side to soothe me.

“Do you want a shower?” he asked.

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