Page 84 of Commit
“Now what? You gonna choke me? Fuck me? Hurt me? Go ahead. I don’t care anymore.” I feel exhaustion weighing on me, and it has nothing to do with being up all night or out all day.
“Why would I hurt you?” he snaps. He doesn’t say he wouldn’t, though.
I burst out laughing, surprising us both. I see the men behind him move closer. “Ah, you’re going to get them to hurt me instead. That’s an interesting twist.”
I try to ignore the wounded butterflies fluttering in my stomach, desperate for freedom.
“They won’t touch you.”
“Right,” I whisper. “Just you, right? Whenever and wherever.” I sigh, looking toward the window, wishing I could escape from this place I never should have returned to.
“Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was?”
“Why? Did you think I was fucking Abbot? You don’t need to worry about that. You got exactly what you wanted.”
“What I wanted was you.”
“Well, congratulations, you win. Did you want to bend me over the counter now or wait until they leave?” I ask, my voice flat, because fuck him. Fuck them all. I’m so damn tired of being everyone’s emotional punching bag.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks me.
I just laugh. “What’s wrong with me? You. You’re what’s wrong with me.”
“Well, wife, you’d better find a way to deal with it because, for better or worse, you aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”
“Yeah, sure. Just call me Rapunzel and lock me away. I’ll even grow my hair.”
He releases me and steps back, rubbing his hand over his face. “Who was in the car?”
“Huh?” I frown, confused.
“The car that brought you home. Who the fuck was in the car?”
“Why?”
“So I know who the fuck to kill.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, along with all my bravado. “Can’t you just kill me instead? Seems like everyone would be better off without me.”
“You fucking someone else?”
I drag my nails through my hair in frustration, the urge to scream at the top of my lungs overwhelming me.
“I’d tell him, kitten, before he really loses his mind,” the one man says.
“You can’t lose what you don’t have. And don’t call me kitten,” I sigh.
“I like her.”
“Fuck off, Kenzo. You can go now.”
“Oh, no. This is just getting interesting.”
The other guy remains silent, watching me in a cooly detached way.
I drag my eyes away from him and look at Hudson. “Her name’s Kate. She’s fifteen. I held her hand as she told her mom that her mom’s boyfriend had been raping her. If you touch her, I’ll kill you in your sleep. I don’t give a fuck if I’m signing my own death warrant.”
His chest is heaving, but my words loosen the tension in his body, the confusion swirling in his eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks, exasperated, like I’m the problem.