Page 44 of Bound By Flames
That she saw me and that I saw her.
I didn’t even have the time to tell her about her new workspace. I even called her sister last week to show her and make sure Mia would like it when it was done.
Just as I heard the door of the house shut, I pulled out the covers, took a black sweatshirt, and pulled it on. I already had on sweatpants because I had seen the way she was gawking at me when I wore them at night and I wanted her to keep on doing that every single night.
I was an asshole to her when we got married, I admit it. I just wanted to marry her and satiate my curiosity since the day I saw her from the window. I didn’t care then about us becoming more. Threatening her not to escape was mostly because I had a picture in my head of her in my home, and I always stuck to the plan. But after her panic attack, something changed. And now the thought of never seeing her again feels like the flooris disappearing under me. Now, I don’t want her to leave, not because I’m keeping her, but because I want her to want to be kept.
Taking the stairs two-by-two, I put on my black sneakers and rush out of the door.
Where did you go, princess?
I look on the right, and footsteps are printed in the pebbles, betraying her path. There’s only woods around us and I know this is out of her comfort zone. Luckily for me, it isn’t. Despite the darkness and the unknown of the forest, she still chose to run into it.
Brave girl.
There’s a few acres around the property, because I like privacy and watching my enemies slowly walk toward their death when some find a way in. But there’s one way out other than the main gates. Deep into the forest, there's a tree tall enough to go past the wall surrounding the property. If she climbs it, she can jump out of it and fall on the other side. From there, it’s roads and roads until the city. But yeah, out of desperation, she could do it. If I learned anything from living with Mia, it’s not to underestimate her. A sound breaks me out of my thoughts as I hear a small curse from the forest.
Mia.
Quick footsteps fill the night as I listen carefully to her direction. She’s running. Fast. And she’s going toward the tree at the end of the property. I’m not even sure she knows about it but still, she’s heading in the right direction to escape.
Fuck.
I start running, entering deeper into the woods and noticing a small silhouette. She’s already far, but it won’t be a problem to catch her. Hunting people is my favorite sport, yet tonight, I wished I never had to do it.
Back then, I would have given the world for a chance at hunting my little Mia, chasing her in a cat-and-mouse game, hearing the fear in her breathing as I caught her and brought her back home with a grin on my face. Victorious with a prize under my arm.
Only this time, I’m not hunting for the kill. I’m chasing for the hope of her staying because I don’t want to keep her if she doesn’t want me to. It would be too, fuck, too painful. To stare at her angelic face every morning, knowing she’d wish nothing more but to get away from me. I fasten my pace, the wind roaring around me as the branches take pieces of fabric and my shoes are covered in mud.
That’s it, I’m almost there. I can see her. She’s running like she knows someone’s behind her. She’s running like that’s the only chance she’ll ever get.
God, Mia.
She’s running for her life, and the sight of it breaks me open.
Let her go.
Look at her.
She doesn’t want you.
She’s running away from you.
You’re alone.
You’ll always be.
I should be a good man and let her go, but I’m not a good man. I’m the President of an MC club. I hunt and torture people. I deal drugs and weapons across the country. I own strip clubs, businesses, and people. I’m not a good man. Never have been. Never will be.
So I run faster until I can smell her cinnamon scent. She’s breathing loudly, hearing me behind her. She glances at me quickly, tears filling her hazelnut eyes as she tries and fails to run faster.
Until my last breath, this image will remain imprinted in my mind. The sight of my terrified, desperate, crying wife. And I swear to myself to do anything I can to never see those emotions on her face ever again.
“Gotcha,” I grunt as I catch her ribs, her bones heaving under my palms, pulling her back to my chest. I expect her to fight me, to move her little body to try to escape and detangle herself from my hold, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t fight it. And I don’t know if this doesn’t anger me even more. Mia’s a fighter. She should be trying to get away. She should be fighting me. I want her to.
“Fight,” I order her, breathing into her ear, my heart pounding so hard in my chest, she must feel it in her back. She doesn’t respond, so I tighten my hold and rasp louder, “Fight me, Mia. Goddamn it. Fuckin’ fight me!”
She gasps, then pushes my hands, one of her legs kicking my knee. She moves nervously, with an urgency that’s breaking my dark heart as if there was one in my chest. Her breathing quickens, roars of frustration coming out of her as she realizes I’m still holding her.
