Page 2 of Together We Burn
“She started it,” he whined, tucking the hat into his back pocket.
I levelled him with a look, slid my arms under Stefany’s unconscious body, and carried her to the sofa. Gently, I laid her down and then turned to stare at the two brutes who had come into my home.
The second of the two men appeared at her side and stuck a syringe into the side of her neck with such force it was surprising he didn’t break the needle in her skin as he pushed the plunger down.
“Boss’s orders,” he sneered in response to my questioning look. “To make sure the bitch doesn’t wake up.”
I grabbed him by the throat and squeezed his trachea between my thumb and fingers. Glancing at his friend, who was now examining his face in his phone’s camera–still ugly, jackass–I snarled.
“I’m going to get dressed. Either of you fucking touches her, and the boss will be the least of your worries.”
I shoved him toward his buddy, letting go of the thug's throat, and looked down at Stefany, brushing a lock of her hair from her face.
She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping.
Poor girl didn’t know what was about to hit her.
And now that ache in my bones was back.
Chapter one
Stevie
Hishandisonthe back of my forehead. Soft and gentle. He’s angry. At me? Maybe? But what have I done? I’m tied to a chair and can barely keep myself awake.
“Fuck, Stefany. You’re burning up,” he growls.
“Stefany, open your eyes,” he seethes.
"Stefany..."
Is this what giving up is like? If so, it’s not so bad. Not when he called me that name. One. Last. Time.
"Stevie baby, are you up?"
I glanced at the closed bedroom door as Alex’s booming voice carried down the hall. Deciding to ignore him, I sagged amongst the mountain of pillows propping me up in the semi-comfortable position I’d been in over the past few weeks. My bruising had gone down significantly, my ribs were more of a dull ache, and the stitches in my thigh could come out at the end of the month. The only downside to the whole ordeal was the cut on my left eyebrow had caused a scar. Now I sported permanent hair loss there and reminded myself of high school boys who thought it was cool to shave a gash in their eyebrows to look tough.
As if I didn't have enough to worry about, without having to ensure my pencilled in brow matched my normal one.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I winced as my ribs smarted at the movement. With a groan, I rubbed my side, soothing the burn before confirming the time, tauntingly telling me that I had not slept the entire night. Again. Each night in the safety of the dark, when I was alone, I replayed my captivity orchestrated by my psychotic mother and my backstabbing…
What? What exactly is he, Stevie?
“Target” no longer felt like the right word. He had moved past that when we kissed, when we fucked, and when he weaselled his way through my heavily built defences. Ones I had spent years ensuring were airtight.
Christ, this was a mess.
My days had blended. Between dreaming about the betrayal of a man I never truly knew and thinking about all the red flags I’d missed as he made me believe he cared. Days that I also painstakingly tried to fill the black hole in my memory of how the hell I got home.
Picking up a blade from the box on my bed, I rolled it around in my palm before tossing it at the far wall with athunk. Embedded in the plasterboard, sticking out of Jake’s stupidly perfect professional headshot and a hand-drawn female stick figure with the words “psychotic, cock-sucking dick of a mother”were six knives. A couple also lay on the floor where they’d missed their mark and not managed to penetrate his smug face or her sketched body.
Alex knocked on my door before opening it, popping his head around the wood and saying, "I'm going to take Rocky out; need me to get you anything?"
Holding the door ajar, it widened as my large Newfoundland barged his way through and trotted in to see me. I began pushing myself into a seated position, a grimace marring my face, even though the ache was dull. Anything that involved using my core caused flashes of pain to flare along my rib cage.
Alex rushed to my side, sliding his big hands under my arms and hoisting me up the bed until my back was against the headboard.
"I can do it, Alex," I grumbled, swatting his hands away.
