Page 119 of His to Save

No. Stop that. Stop it right now, Nora. Atlas loves you. You know he does.

“You’re wrong.” My denial sounds as pathetic as I’m sure I look, restrained and sopping wet on the floor, but I mean it. I mean it with every ounce of my soul. Atlas Wallace loves me, and he loves our son, and if we make it through this, I’m going to tell him every day that it was his love for me that helped me survive.

“Stupid little bitch.” Rand abruptly releases my jaw and shoves his hand into his pocket, retrieving a knife. Before I can fully process it, he’s cut open the front of my shirt and has the tip of the blade poised over my belly, pushing ever-so-slightly against my taut skin.

My entire world narrows to the point of his blade. I want to thrash and kick and scream, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m a statue, for fear that any sudden movement will send the blade plunging into my stomach.

“Please,” I beg as fat tears spill down my cheeks. “P-please don’t do this. Y-you can d-do anything you w-want to me. Just don’t hurt my baby.”

“You’re not in charge.” He presses harder, dragging the blade down to my hip. “If I want to gut you like a fucking deer here and now, I’ll damn sure do it.”

My body trembles violently as a stinging pain radiates outward from the laceration. Warm liquid trickles from the cut—blood.

I open my mouth, ready to beg, to truly plead for my life, but I snap it shut again. There’s not an ounce of humanity inside of Rand, pleading with him will go nowhere. How could it? He doesn’t have a heart, much less a soul.

Don’t make any sudden movements. Just breathe, Nora. It’s going to be okay.

He watches the blood ooze from the wound he inflicted with a sick sense of glee for a moment, but then he shutters his face in a mask devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

Nausea swirls through me as he regards me coolly, as if I’m worth less than the dirt on his shoe before flicking the blade closed and repocketing it.

“Lucky for you, I don’t want to.” He presses his index and middle into the cut, smearing the blood around. “Yet.”

My entire body heaves as he brings his bloodied fingers to his lips, licking away the crimson liquid.

“Mmm, just as good as your tears,” he groans, as if savoring the taste. “But there’s something else I want more.”

This time when he reaches for me, his hand moving to the waistband of my leggings, I absolutely lose it, screaming like my life depends on it.

CHAPTER 40

ATLAS

The drive to the cabin is a blur. I couldn't tell you how fast I drove, how many cars I passed, or if I even stopped at any lights.

My focus was singular—get to Nora.

And now that I’m here, I swear to God, if even one hair on her head is out of place, I'll gut that piece of shit like the pig he is. Nora's mine. Mine to love and to cherish. Mine to protect, and I've failed her.

As much as I want to punch it down the long, winding drive and come in guns blazing, I ditch my truck near the road and go in on foot.

I need to be stealthy, because he already has home field advantage, so to speak, and the last thing I want to give him is a leg up on me. Especially when he has the most precious person in my world in his hands.

So, while I want to run, I don't. I creep, gun drawn, eyes peeled, and ready for whatever he may have up his sleeve.

I pause at his truck, taking a quick peek through the windows, but nothing jumps out at me.

In fact, nothing seems amiss at all as the cabin comes into view—that is until I hear Nora's terrified screams bleeding through the walls.

All bets are off now as I flick the safety off and race toward the cabin. “I'm coming, Pip.”

I burst through the front door, only to stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

Nora is on her side with her arms tied behind her, soaking wet, and bleeding. Rand is gripping her jaw so tightly I can see his fingers digging into her delicate, already bruised skin as he tries to pull her leggings down.

Hell. Fucking. No.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I shout, cocking the gun and aiming it straight at him.

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