Page 61 of Hurt to Love
“I’ll find the keys to get her out,” Jackson said, nodding to the cuffs that were the last hurdle we had to getting to each other.
“Where are they?” I asked quietly, knowing Cill would know who I meant without me ever having to say their names.
“They’ve gone. They’re dead, Paige. They will never hurt you again.”
I screwed my eyes tightly shut and let the truth sink in. It was all over. They were gone. I’d never have to suffer at their hands again. It didn’t feel real. I felt like I was in a dream world, and I prayed I’d never have to wake up.
Cill held my head in his hands and stroked his thumbs over my tear-stained cheeks.
“You’ve got a bruise coming up here on your cheek. Did they hurt you anywhere else? Did they… touch you?”
I knew what he meant.
“No. They hit me, but they didn’t get a chance to do anything else. You saved me. Again.”
His sad eyes lit up slightly, and I knew then that the old Cill was starting to come back to me.
He pressed his forehead against mine and sighed.
“I was so scared, Paige. I thought I’d lost you forever. That I’d never get the chance to tell you I love you.” He pulled away and then looked me deep in the eyes. “I do, you know. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said, and then he kissed me.
Being on his lap, being kissed by him, I felt like we were a part of each other. Two threads woven together, forever meant to be. I was a part of him, and he was a part of me. Nothing could ever change that. I never believed in fate or kismet before, but now I do. I was meant to find this man. Life had thrown me so many curveballs, but whenever I felt like giving in, life slapped me in the face and reminded me that one day, my circumstances would change. I’d take all the curveballs to get to him.
We heard someone coming down the stairs and turned to see Jackson approach us with a small key. He handed it to Cill, who slipped it into the lock of the cuffs and prised them off me so gently it gave me butterflies in my heart. Then he kissed my wrists and rubbed them. I let him take care of me, then wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said as he comforted me.
“What do you mean? You’re coming home with me. You don’t think I’d ever let you go again, do you?” Cill frowned, and I swallowed hard, scared to tell him what I’d learnt.
“I don’t mean about that. I mean my… dad.” I found it hard to say his name. It stuck in my throat like a spiked golf ball.
“What about your dad? Is he the reason they took you?”
I saw another man appear at the door. He was tall, with jet black hair and an air of importance that was so suffocating, it made me shrink into myself. Feeling my hesitation, Cill looked up and then relaxed.
“Paige, this is Luca. He saved us all. Luca, this is my Paige.” Luca nodded and gave a hint of a smile. I gave a weak wave and said hi. “You can trust him,” Cill whispered into my ear, so only I could hear.
“You let us use your house,” I blurted out and then blushed at how childish I felt.
“Anytime,” Luca replied and folded his arms.
“What happened with your dad?” Cill pressed, holding me tighter as if he was reassuring me I was safe.
I took a deep breath, and then every one of the secrets and shame that the brothers had told me about spilled out of me. It was as if my body couldn’t hold on to them. I didn’t care that Jackson and Luca were listening too; I had to offload the guilt. Get the facts and the dirt out of me.
When my whole sorry tale had been told, the room fell silent. Cill wrapped his arms around me and said, “He didn’t hurt you too, did he?”
“No.” I shook my head then lowered my gaze in sadness. “I’m not sure about my brother though.”
Cill gritted his teeth and pulled my head down to rest on his chest.
“None of this is your fault, Paige. Not one bit of it. They’re sick fucks, the lot of them,” Cill said with so much venom in his voice. I swear he’d have killed the brothers all over again if he could have.
“I know.” I looked up at him and gave him a smile to try to put his mind at rest. “To them, I was nothing more than a blank canvas. A trophy. Something that they could paint and carve their twisted revenge into.”
“You’re still a blank canvas,” Cill urged. “Only now we get to paint our own story. Don’t let what they did or what your father did ruin what lies in our future. They have no place there.”
