Page 133 of Accepting Fate
Noah doesn’t even bother looking at Grayson. "No, she won’t but I can check on her through the doggie camera I set up. You can talk to them, and it flings out a treat when you press a button in the app.”
Geez, this man is freaking ridiculous, but I love him.
Grayson holds his hand out to me. "Alright, let’s do this. Noah, lock the door before you come down here.” Digging into his back pocket, he tosses Noah his phone. "And download that camera on my phone. My code is 127701.”
"Hey, do those numbers mean anything?” I’ve known his password for months now and I never asked. I think I’m trying to distract the panic that is rising in my chest but I’m also curious.
"It’s the day I met you and your birthday,” he says, so casually it’s like he’s ordering freaking pizza.
I stop in my tracks and stare up at him.
He raises a brow and smiles. "Stop acting like you didn’t know I loved you before I told you. Now let’s go, brave girl.”
Grayson guides me down to the basement and uses his thumb to unlock a bookshelf which is actually a door. Noah catches up and we all walk in silence down the dimly lit hallway. It’s so long, and I’m a little winded by the time we reach the end. We are met with a large steel door. Noah places his finger against the scanner, and it flashes green.
The large door clicks, and Noah turns the handle. Before opening it completely, he turns and looks over his shoulder. "You ready, Lolo?”
Grayson squeezes my hand and I nod.
Noah opens the door. The moment we step inside, I’m frozen to my spot.
The room looks like something that a serial killer would build. It’s completely concrete and most likely soundproof. Landon is leaning against one of the jail cells that line the wall. A silver table lines the other wall and on it sits an array of weapons from axes to guns.
I can’t focus on all of that for too long because standing in the middle of the room is Wes. He is wearing a white shirt and jeans. My eyes scan up and I see Mike’s body hanging by his hands from large metal chains. His head pops up and our eyes meet.
His signature creepy smile spreads across his face and he tilts his head back, laughing.
Suddenly, my fear and anxiety are long gone, and anger takes its place.
I take a small step forward and Grayson grips my hip, halting me.
Wes clears his throat, and everyone turns their attention to him. "Let her go, Grayson.”
A low growl comes from Grayson’s throat. I know I need to do this, but I want to make sure Grayson is comfortable too. I can tell he wants to run over and slice Mike’s throat but is more concerned about keeping me safe.
Wes and Gray exchange a look of understanding and he releases his grip on me. Bending down so his mouth is next to my ear, he whispers, "I’ll be right here if you need me. Give him hell, Angel.”
I’m a little shocked that he isn’t gluing himself to my side but at the same time, I’m happy. I need to do this myself. Wes is there but he is there to keep Mike in check, and he won’t distract me like Grayson will.
I slowly walk over to Wes, and he gives me a curt nod. Taking a deep breath, I finally summon the courage to look Mike directly in his disgusting face.
"Well, well, well, Princess. I knew you would come. You really do love your stepdaddy.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I want to vomit hearing that fucking name. In a flash, Wes punches him in the stomach, eliciting a grunt from Mike.
Okay, Logan, you can do this,I tell myself.
Stealing my spine, I say calmly, "Stop calling me Princess.”
"Shut up, you stupid whore. You love everything I do to you.”
Movement sounds behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see Noah holding Grayson back. I give him a look that tells him it’s okay and he nods his head but takes a step closer to me, Noah following him.
Mike chuckles and says, "You better get your dogs under control, Princess, and get me down from here. I promise I will make your punishment easy if you get me down in the next five minutes.”
This fucking dude really is delusional. He actually thinks he still has control over me and that he has done nothing wrong. Well, asshole, I’m about to rewrite your whole fucking story.
My arms cross over my chest. I purposefully wore a racerback tank and shorts to show him I wasn’t ashamed of the scars he put on my body.