Page 42 of Torch
“Grace!” I kept yelling her name, as I ran through her house. There was very little out of place in the living room, and into the hallway, but I knew she was a neat freak, so even these few displaced items were a shock. A pair of shoes kicked across the floor. Her jacket on the floor by the door. One of those silly little end tables on its side.
I ran for the stairs, yelling her name still, and hearing nothing in response. When I reached her bedroom, it was a fucking disaster zone. The bedding was dragged halfway across the floor, and there was a glass on the floor, with a red splotch beside it, which I fucking hoped was wine, and no sign of my woman. Jesus fuck. I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. My lungs were trying to expand, but no air was getting in, and my heart felt like it was about to fucking explode from the panic.
“Breathe, man. We’ll find her.” Ryder already had his phone out of his pocket, and was dialling someone.
“Yeah. It’s not good, man. The house has been breached, and it’s a mess. She’s not here.”
I ignored him, scouring the room with my eyes, like somehow I’d fucking find something. Movement outside the window caught my eye, and I ran to it to see someone moving toward the house, streaking through the night air, like they were being chased. Fuck!
I shoved past Ryder, running down the stairs so fast I nearly broke my fucking neck. I reached the kitchen, just as the door crashed open and a bloody, sobbing Grace slammed right into me, immediately wrapped in my arms.
“Babe, Jesus fuck! RY! She’s here!”
Grace
Thatnoisedownstairshadn’tbeen the neighbours. I’d listened for more sounds, and when I heard them, I’d started to climb out of bed to check, but suddenly panic set in and I froze. There was someone in my house? Someone was coming for me? Shit. What were the chances it wasn’t related to what was happening with Torch and his club?
Something fell over downstairs, and my terrified mind released my limbs, letting me get up, as I tiptoed to the doorway. Should I close the door and barricade myself in? Should I run? Should I scream? Hide? My phone! I ran back to the bed to grab my phone, hesitating for a split second. Do I ring Torch or the police? Idiot! I dialled 999, and just as I hit the button to make the call, there was a thud in my doorway, a low growling sound, and someone crashed into me, hard.
He was big, muscled, and too strong for me to fight. He pinned me down on the floor, and snatched my phone, ending the call to the emergency services, before tossing my phone aside.
“Slut,” he hissed as he slapped me, and grabbed my throat, trapping me between his hard body and my carpeted floor.
“Please,” I gasped, struggling with him, slapping at his arm, and trying to dig my nails into it. He had thick sleeves on, leather gloves, and a balaclava which covered all but his eyes.
“I like it when they beg,” he whispered, leaning way too close to my ear, his fingers tightening on my throat.
“Was gonna fuck you before I kill you, but now I’ll have to hurry. That’s your fault for calling the fucking police, bitch.”
He wrapped both hands around my throat, and started to choke me, determined to kill me before he’d get caught. My only chance was to keep fighting, or die, right here in my old bedroom, in the house my parents still owned.
A chance move got my leg just in the right place, and my knee connected with his testicles as hard as I could manage. His breath rasped out of him, and he cursed, as his grip on my throat loosened, and he rolled away from me.
That was all the opportunity I needed, as I scrambled up from the floor, and ran. It wasn’t safe to stay in the house, and I had no idea where to go. If I went to my neighbours, they’d be at risk too, and they were all older, and didn’t need the threat.
In the end, I ran outside, into the back garden, hiding beside the shed filled with tools I couldn’t get access to, without the damn key. He’d find me. He’d find me and hurt me. He’d rape me. He’d kill me.
I heard him when he made it out to the garden, roaring out that he’d find me and kill me, but suddenly he yelled the word ‘fuck’, and I peeked around the shed just in time to see him running back inside. I was so scared. So fucking scared, and now that I was hiding away, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off, I hurt everywhere. My face hurt, my throat and neck really hurt, and I felt like I’d been hurt all over, rather than just the places he’d hit me.
I was frozen in place, terrified and alone, and too scared to move. I hoped my call through to the emergency services resulted in them sending someone out, because I needed help. I needed someone to save me. I needed… Torch!
I felt like I could hear his voice yelling out for me, and at first I convinced myself it was just wishful thinking. That I was trying to manifest him, because I was terrified and needed him, but it happened again, and a second voice called out too. Not the bastard who’d attacked me. Torch sounded more frantic with every call, and after several long minutes of telling myself to get my ass in there and let him help me, I finally found I could move, so I did exactly that. I ran. I ran into the house that had always been my sanctuary. The house that was now the site of the greatest horror I’d experienced.
I ran through the kitchen and straight into a hard body, with strong arms wrapping tight around me, as a familiar scent filled my senses, and I knew Torch had me, and I’d be safe.
He kissed the top of my head, holding me against him, his body heat warming me, and starting to fight the chill deep inside me. I was only wearing a small vest and shorts, my usual bed clothing, and it had felt ridiculously insignificant, when faced with a predatory male in that way.
“You’re safe, babe, I’ve got you.”
Twenty-Two
Fuckme,IthoughtI’d lost her. I thought he’d fucking killed her, and even now, holding her trembling form in my arms, I could barely believe it. Panic and rage were warring with each other, and I had to fight not to squeeze her tighter, to fucking embed her so deeply in me that she could never be in danger again. So I could protect her, by surrounding her with me, and never letting anything bad happen to her. Let’s be honest though, just fucking knowing me was enough of a reason for her to be in danger, and I couldn’t change that now. This was all my fault.
“Stitch says to bring her in, man. I’ve already packed a bag for her.” The fuck? We both pulled back from our life-affirming hug to stare at him. He’d been in her room? He’d been going through her shit?
“You did what?”
Ryder rolled his eyes at me, instead focusing on Grace, who was still trembling in my arms. I knew he was trying to support us, and help protect her, but she was wearing almost fucking nothing, and his eyes on her made me want to remove them from his head.
