Mackenzie

“Wake up, sweetheart.” Theo’s voice filters through the fog of sleep. I feel the heaviness of his body beside me, the gentle caress of his fingertips as they brush over my cheek, and for a brief moment, I forget to be afraid.

“Theo?” I blink until my vision clears of sleep.

“Morning, beautiful.” He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, and my heart skips a beat.

“You’re all right?” I reach up and touch the small bruise under his eye.

He captures my hand and presses my knuckles against his lips. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Did you win?”

He gives me a cocky grin. “Of course.”

I try to sit up, but the room spins and I have to lay back down.

“Here.” His hands wrap around my back, lifting me and my pillow until I’m in a semi-sitting position. He pulls a bottle of orange juice from a plastic bag and uncaps it, then hands it to me, along with two extra-strength Tylenol. “Looks like you’re going to need these.”

“Thanks.” I wince when I think about what I must look like.

Once I swallow the pills, he takes the juice and places it on the nightstand beside the bed.

I shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze and brace myself for the lecture I know is about to come.

“Where’s Moody?” I ask, my throat tight.

“He’s looking into a few things for me.”

“Oh.” My gaze drops. “What did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

I give a small nod, staring blankly at the floral printed comforter.

He lifts my chin with his thumb. “You should have told me.”

I lick my lips, knowing I can’t run away from the conversation this time.

“He threatened to…” I close my eyes on the memory.

“I know.” His fingers brush my hair behind my ear, exposing the gash. “We’re going to get the bastard. I promise I won’t let him hurt you again.”

I want to believe him. No. I need to believe him.

But Stefano will never let me go. And now that he knows Theo and I are involved…

A shiver runs down my spine. The familiar sense of panic rushes over me. I push on Theo’s chest and try to get free of the tangled sheets, but Theo’s weight holds them secure.

I hate the way my chest constricts, the way my fingers go numb when fear wraps itself around me. It’s like a dark blanket trying to suffocate me, but no matter how hard I fight against it, I can’t control it.

“Breathe,” Theo says, cupping my face in his palms. “Look at me and breathe. Everything is all right.”

A sliver of sunlight pours through the slit in the curtains, catching the honey flecks of brown in his eyes. I focus on that. On the warmth of his fingers as they stroke my cheek. The heat of his body pressed against mine. Slowly, the anxiety starts to ease.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, fisting my fingers in his t-shirt and blinking back tears. “I’m sorry for everything.”

His lips softly brush against mine. “I know.”

“You and Logan are the most important people in my life. If anything happens to either of you, because of me–” I choke on a sob. “I could never live with myself.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen. To you, to Logan, or to me.” He tries to pull me into his chest, but I hold him back, placing my hands on either side of his face.

“I need you to promise me that if something does, you’ll take care of Logan.”

“Mac.” He eyes narrow and he grabs my wrists.

“Please. Promise me.”

His jaw pulses and he watches me with an unreadable expression. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“You know I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe.” He shakes his head, releasing my wrists, but the muscles in his neck tense visibly.

“I know.” And I do. But I also know what Stefano is capable of.

“Come here.” Gently, he places a hand behind my neck, drawing me into his kiss. When he pulls back, his expression is serious. “You trust me?”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. There’s something in his tone that makes me nervous.

“It’s not about trust. It’s about what Stef is capable of. I don’t want you involved.”

“Too late for that.” He stands, then walks to the dresser where my jeans and shirt lay folded on top. His shoulders rise and fall heavily before he picks up the clothes, then turns and places them on the bed beside me. “Get dressed.”

The anxiety is returning. I know that look on his face. Stubborn. Determined. Whatever he has planned, I know there’s no changing his mind.

“If you’re thinking about going after him yourself–”

He chuckles darkly, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Trust me. That was my first instinct.”

The way he’s standing, the hard line of his jaw, the twitch in his eye—I know he’s bracing for a fight.

“As much as I’d like to bash the bastard’s brains in, it’s not going to stop him.” His gaze bores into me. “That’s why we need to go to the police. Tell them everything.”

Shit. That’s his plan?

I shake my head fervently. “They’ll arrest me. Didn’t Moody tell you–”

“He told me. And I think we can fight it. I’ve called my lawyer and he’s meeting us down at the station in an hour.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.” My heart is racing now. The need to run, to get out of here, is overwhelming.

As if sensing my intention, he stands in front of the door, his arms now folded over his chest. His dark hair falls forward across his forehead, and there’s a hint of something primal in his expression, as if he’s daring me to argue with him.

“We can stop at the apartment if you need to freshen up, but we are going.”

My cheeks grow warm, anger overriding my initial fear.

“So that’s it?” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance. “Your great plan? Have me arrested. Then what?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and drops his arms, moving towards me. I want to shrug him away when he rests his hands on my shoulders, but the heat of his touch is comforting.

“This is the best option. We go in, together. Tell them everything, right from the beginning.”

“And if they put me in jail?”

“We’ll deal with it, but I don’t think they will. And neither does my lawyer.” He touches my face, gently tracing the dark bruise that I know shadows my eye. “It’s what we have to do to make sure this never happens again.”

I close my eyes and shiver, knowing he’s right. “Okay.”

He lets out a long, heavy breath. “Thank you.”

I look up at him, confused by the relief in his voice. “For what?”

“For not running.” He kisses my forehead hard. “For staying and fighting for us.”

Guilt washes over me. He doesn’t know that I almost ran. No. That I did run. If Moody hadn’t found me on that bench, I’d be on the bus headed north. Abandoning not only him, but my child.

God, I’m a terrible person.

I deserve whatever I have coming.