I groaned and rolled onto my side. Something wet was laid across my forehead, cooling my skin. It felt good. I wanted it to stay there. My eyes blinked open, the bright light causing me to squint. Everything was a blur, shapes, and colors all seemed to smear together in a dirty looking rainbow. My head hurt, really bad, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t sit up,” Peter said, his voice nearby.

Then it hit me, the smell, the memories, the shame all flooding over me at once. I held my hand to my mouth to stop the vomit from spilling out over the floor.

“Shit,” he cursed. “Here.”

A glass bowl was shoved in front of my face and I quickly grabbed it, half my body hanging over the edge of the couch as I emptied the contents of my stomach into what looked like a fancy crystal fruit bowl.

Slowly, I forced my body into a sitting position, placing the bowl between my legs and hanging my head over it. A hand swept through my hair, pulling it back and out of my face. It sent a chill down my spine, and I slapped it away. My eyes narrowed on him as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I told him, my voice shaking.

I wasn’t exactly scared of Peter, but he did hold power. He knew things about me, had evidence of the shit that I’d done. He held power that he could use against the club, to make them look bad. What he didn’t have, was a fucking moral compass. That was dangerous when it was mixed with his need to be on top and the connections he held within his pockets.

How many people had he blackmailed to get this drug on the market?

Deacon had said that he had no idea how it had been approved by the FDA. Probably because they were paid to shut up, or they were replaced with people who were easier to manipulate.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said finally when he just stared at me across the couch.

“I forgive you,” he answered, his face softening. “I need you to know that I forgive you for running and that even though you hurt me, I’m willing to move on.”

I thought my brain was going to explode at that moment. What the hell was he talking about, forgiving me? And moving on?

I placed the bowl on the floor and stood up, my body wavering for a moment before I found my balance. I must have passed out. The emotions and memories becoming too much to handle, so my body had just shut down to try and protect me. Even though it had, I could feel my hands shaking, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the shadows had begun to sneak in. I needed to fight back, and I needed to do it now before I broke down.

“You forgive me?” I asked, shaking my head and taking a step back when he stood to his feet. Peter wasn’t little, he was tall, and while he wasn’t muscular like Wrench, he was still heavily built, enough to be intimidating. “What about all the pain you put me through? Because I don’t forgive you.”

His brows pull together in the middle. “I was helping you. You think it was easy for me to see you have those attacks and watch you break down. You think I enjoyed watching someone I cared about in so much anguish and pain?”

“You used me to test out that drug. You got me addicted to those damn pills,” I cried out, tears brimming my eyes. The shadows were coming, but I was trying my best to force them back. I needed to, I couldn’t risk what would happen if I broke down right now, here with him.

He took a threatening step forward. “They made you better. You begged me for them, and I couldn’t tell you no. They helped you.”

My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, it didn’t even make any fucking sense. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?” I snapped, rubbing at my chest with the palm of my hand, trying to keep the blood pumping and keep myself alert. Peter sounded delusional like he actually believed that what he had done had helped me like he hadn’t completely destroyed me and turned me into a zombie.

His face softened. “I was helping you to be normal… to feel normal. And I had to prove to those people that this drug… it worked. They needed to see it. People like that, they don’t understand what it’s like for people like us to get through the day, to fight to keep our social standing when everyone is expecting us to fall.”

I pulled back, the fact that he was justifying the way he used me almost made me reach for the vomit bowl again. He shook his head, coming toward me with his hand outstretched, it reached for my face, but I ducked out of the way and headed for the door, desperate for air, scared of being trapped in this room with him and having it cave in around me.

Keep fighting, damn it.

His hand grabbed my arm, pulling it hard and twisting my body, slamming me up against the wall. The loud thump caused the pictures on the wall to rattle, neither of us moving an inch until the sound ceased.

His breath fanned against my face as he stood over me, his harsh features now becoming fierce and unforgiving. “You made me look like a fool,” he spat. “After everything I did for you, you ran off with another man’s baby.”

I gasped, I didn’t think he knew.

“You think I’m stupid? You think I couldn’t figure out the times and dates didn’t match up. I thought by marrying you that it would prove my commitment. Show you that I didn’t care and would accept you and the kid anyway, but all you did was throw it in my fucking face,” he roared, and I squashed myself back against the wall, hoping by some miracle that I could sink back inside it.

He reached inside his suit jacket, and I struggled to breathe as he pulled out the gun he had used earlier. My knees were weak, and I was fighting a losing battle as I tried to stop myself from crumbling to the ground.

“I’m a businessman, Annabelle. People look up to me. They see greatness, and yet you are my weakness. A man like me can’t have a weakness.” He tapped the gun against the wall beside my head. “You are either with me… or right now is where I break our connection forever. I won’t let you bring me down again, won’t let you make me look stupid.” He twisted the gun so the barrel was pressed against my temple and tears began to fall down my cheeks.

Peter had lost it. There was no getting through to him, no reasoning with him. Maybe I had driven him over the edge? He had seemed so respectful and genuine to begin with, always a gentleman and forever reminding me that he would be there for me despite my condition.

Then the drugs had started, and it was like he’d lost his mind.

“I—”

Ding dong.

Peter’s head flicked to the side, clearly annoyed at the interruption. I stayed pinned to the wall, even as he took a step back and waved the gun in front of me. “Don’t move.”

I could see part of the door from where I stood. He walked over and pulled it open. “What do you want, Ruby?” he asked harshly as a small blonde girl stepped inside. Even though she had her back to me I could tell she was only young.

“He won’t give me anything. I need you,” her soft voice pleaded. Her hands hung at her sides, both of them shaking profusely. She had a tattoo on the back of one, it looked like writing, elegant and cursive, but I couldn’t make out what it said.

“I told you not to come here,” Peter threw back.

I needed to get out of here.

He shoved her toward the door, but she fought back. Their voices becoming low angry whispers. I knew this house, I could get out while he was distracted, but first I had to force my body to move.

Wrench. If I could get to him I’d be okay.

I kept the image of Wrench in my mind. He was standing beside me, he wasn’t touching me but he was there.

Fight back, damn it.

Get the hell out.

I took one slow step, and then another. There was a back passage that led from this small sitting room and into the kitchen. I headed for it, freezing as I reached the doorway. There was no light inside, it was long and dark. I was scared, once the shadows got a hold of me, would I be able to go any further. This room, it was light, big windows allowed the sun to shine in.

I looked over at them. They were open, just slightly, just enough to fit my body through.

I changed my path and stumbled toward the window. I could still hear Peter and the young girl arguing at the front door which spurred me on. My shaking hands clutched the window frame and I lifted my leg, slipping it through the gap.

I could do this. If I didn’t, who knew what Peter would do to keep me here. His delusions of us being together made him sound crazy.

He was fucking crazy.

I slipped half my body through the space, holding onto the frame as I hefted my other leg out and hung there for a moment, taking a deep breath as I prepared to drop myself into the garden below.

The window was around the side of the house, safe from the view of the front porch, but I was scared the noise would alert him. Then I heard him yell, and in that moment I let go, dropping down into the bushes under the cover of his voice. I lay there for a moment, not sure what to do next.

Where could I go?

Where could I run to?

I had no phone, no way of contacting anyone to come for me.

Fuck! I could barely move, my breathing becoming heavier and heavier as I fought to keep myself awake and alert.

Just run.

I fought against my brain, even though every part of it screamed at me to cower. On shaking hands and knees I crawled through the bushes, I could feel sharp sticks poking at my skin, but I felt no pain. Survival mode had kicked in, and I needed to make it through this, just like every other episode I had. It was hard for me to think that I wasn’t crazy, that this would eventually end, but I held onto that anyway.

The limo sat in the driveway empty. I couldn’t see the driver around, so I scurried across the lawn and ducked down behind it. Two deep breaths and then I took off, just as the door to the house slammed shut behind me. I stumbled as I got to the footpath, catching myself before I fell and then powering forward again. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I ran, hiding my face as cars passed by, probably looking at me like I was a crazed lunatic.

Nothing new there.

I knew Peter would come looking, so I took a side street.

My legs were weak, and I struggled to breathe through the torrent of tears that streaked down my face. Turning down another street, there were just houses and houses, and I wasn’t sure what to do.

Knock on a door?

Hope that they would let me use their phone and not call the police.

I tried to search my mind. I used to live here. I should know my way out, but my head was clouded with haze, and the noise was begging to fill my ears. My feet began to drag and I stumbled, landing hard on the concrete.

A car sped past me, and I heard breaks screech to a stop.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to climb back to my feet. I was on someone’s lawn… if I could just make it to the door.

“Annabelle!”

“No,” I cried out, digging my fingers into the grass, trying to pull myself away from the road.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I screamed, turning and lashing out.

“Hey!” Eric jumped back, his eyes wide as he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

Safety. Eric, he was safety.

“I need …n-need to go,” I stammered. “Peter…”

His brow creased in the center and he held out his hand to me. I cringed away. I didn’t want to be touched.

“Okay, okay,” he said, scrubbing at his face. “Can you get in the car?”

I looked over at the road, his car was parked by the curb. If I could make it there, I would be safe.

I nodded.

Just get to the car.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to my feet. Eric stood beside me as I took one step after another toward his car. He pulled the door open, holding it as I dropped my body inside, the cool leather seats feeling like heaven against my hot skin.

He rushed around and got in the driver’s side.

“Need to call Wrench,” I managed to force out as he pulled away and made his way down the road.

“You can call from my house,” he said calmly, his eyes flicking from the road to me and then back again. “It’ll be okay.”

There were those words, the ones I hated to hear, the ones that made me feel like my emotions and my breakdowns were invalid. But I ignored it.

I was safe now. And soon Wrench would be here.