Page 68 of King of Kings
Please, Knox. Please come in.I silently beg.
Minutes that feel like hours tick by before Knox finally pushes the door open with such force it causes even Bradley to flinch.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Knox is glaring at Bradley.
“This is between husband and wife. You need to leave,” Bradley snaps.
“It’s not. He’s hurting me,” I say, trying to shove him off me.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Knox growls.
“Or what? I’ll sue your ass before you can even get a punch in,” Bradley says smugly.
“I don’t give a shit if you sue me, get your hands off her,” Knox says, inching closer to us.
“You’re not worth the trouble,” Bradley says, looking at me with disgust.
I watch his hand rear back, and I instinctively flinch, bracing for the blow that never comes.
When I open my eyes, I see Knox has knocked Bradley to the floor. I watch him deliver punch after punch to Bradley’s face, and as much as I know he deserves it, I know this won’t end well.
“Knox, stop, please,” I cry out, pulling on his arms.
I’m afraid he’s going to kill him. It takes a few minutes, but he finally stops, breathing heavily, rage in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, turning his attention to me, putting his hands in my hair, his eyes searching my face.
“Yes, no… I don’t know,” I admit, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Oh, baby. Come here,” he says, pulling me into his arms.
I inhale his scent, basking in the warmth of his body.
“I need to call the police,” he says, whispering in my ear before kissing my forehead.
I nod in response, unable to say anything else.
I pace the room while he talks to the dispatcher on the phone. I can’t help but glance at Bradley, worried that he’ll get up, but also worried that he's not waking up.
“They’re on their way. They will need a statement from you. Are you up for it?” he asks, cupping my face with his hands.
“Yeah, I’ll do what I need to do,” I say, wiping tears from my face.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I feel like a dick that I didn’t let you explain,” he says, pulling away to pace the room.
“This isn’t your fault. It’s neither of our faults that he’s a psycho,” I say, glancing down at Bradley, who––thankfully––is starting to move around.
Knox notices him moving around on the floor also and shields my body with his. I like to pride myself in being independent. I moved halfway across the country by myself and started a new life, but I’m not ashamed to admit I needed some help tonight.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“That must be the police,” Knox says, putting his hand in mine and leading me towards the door.
The next few minutes are a whirlwind. The paramedics haul Bradley off––who is spewing out threats of lawsuits. I sit down on the couch with a female office and tell her everything, starting from my life back in Chicago and leading up to today. Knox talks to an officer in the kitchen.
Two hours later, everything is cleaned up, and it’s just the two of us left.
“Do you want to come home with me? I’ll feed you and you can tell me everything,” Knox offers.