Chapter Twenty-Five

Jaz

 

 

 

 

Every inch of me hurts. Even as I try to open my eyes, I’m met with pain. I’m scared to wake up, and even more scared of what Dylan will do this time around. Even as I keep myself totally still, I hear movement in the room.

Please leave me alone.

I have prayed for Cutter to come and find me. Prayed that the girls are okay, and the boys made it back safe and in enough time to help everyone.

“Jaz?” Through the fog I hear his voice, but a part of me thinks I must be dreaming. “Wake up, babe.”

I force my eyes open and when I see him hovering over me, I want to wrap my arms around him. I try to sit up and gasp.

That's when I look down and start to take note of my body.

My right arm is cast and in a sling. Tape is wrapped tight around my ribs and it hurts to breathe. My left ankle is cast, too, and although I can’t see much of my skin, what I can see looks like a leopard; the different spots of varying color peppering my body. As everything starts to flood back my heart pounds. It’s like I can't breathe and as I try to catch my breath the heaving of my chest sends shooting pain through my body. I cry out, but even that hurts.

“Hey, calm down.” Cutter is next to me, his hand running through my hair, catching on something wrapped around my head. “You’re safe now, just breathe.”

He maintains eye contact and exaggerates his own breathing, urging me to keep time with him.

In and out, in and out.

My heartrate slows and Cutter smiles. An ache starts to form at my temples and I close my eyes.

Dylan.

Knife.

Blood.

So much blood.

The blade is cold as it presses against my skin. I feel it. It’s right there. I open my mouth and scream as loud as I can.

Where is Cutter?

Where did he go?

I can hear footsteps but all I feel is pain and fear. Something or someone touches my body and I flinch, arching to get away from them.

Something pricks my arm and my whole body goes limp. My muscles relax and I feel like I’m being swallowed by the bed beneath me.

I’m tired.

Too tired to fight.

Too tired to wake up.

Too tired to scream.

 

***

 

Sometimes the lack of sound is as scary as noise itself. When there is noise, your brain can process it and give you some idea of what you’ll see when you open your eyes. The absence of sound means you have to forego that preparation.

I’m done with surprises.

I’m done with everything.

Wake up, Jasmine.

I'm at the clubhouse, in our room. Lucy sits in the chair by the bed, her face red and tear-streaked, her hand resting on mine. Even though it hurts, I squeeze her hand. The movement sends a pain shooting up my arm.

“Jaz?” Her eyes blink a few times before she moves closer. “Thank God you’re awake.”

“What happened?” My voice sounds strange. Croaky. Like I haven’t used it in a while.

“We didn’t lose anyone. The boys got here before they could start whatever they had planned.” She squeezes my hand as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We didn’t know . . .” Her sentence falls away, and she drops her head, wiping furiously at her face with her other hand.

“What happened to…” I can’t bring myself to say his name.

As if I’ve flicked a switch, her face hardens. “The boys are taking care of him. He won’t ever hurt you again.” Her eyes don’t meet mine. There’s something she isn’t saying.

“Is he here?” My eyes dart around the room nervously even though I know that there isn’t a chance anyone would let him near me.

“In the garage. Just try to put it out of your mind. They’ll handle it.” All of a sudden, she’s on edge. The earlier gratitude vanishing, giving way to something else that I can’t quite name. Her hand runs through her hair. “Let me tell Cutter you’re up. He just ran downstairs a few minutes ago.”

She stands up and walks out the door, leaving me on my own.

Knowing that Dylan is here makes my skin crawl. It doesn’t matter that Lucy told me not to worry. It doesn’t matter that he’s in the garage, likely being watched, or that he’s far away. Having him be within walking distance makes my stomach flip. It’s crazy to think this way but . . . what if he somehow gets to me again?

The door opens and I hold my breath, releasing it when Cutter walks in. I take note of his face. He looks exhausted, nervous, and in pain, all at the same time.

“Hey, it’s good to see you awake.” He walks over to the bed, taking the spot where Lucy had been. The bed dips and I wince. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?”

“I promised I’d protect you. I should have seen this coming. Everything that happened, everything he did to you, it’s my fault.” His voice cracks and he looks away.

I try to lift my arm to his face but it quickly falls back down, hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Cutter looks up at me. Not being able to touch him hurts.

I’ll just have to do my best with words.

“None of this is your fault. Dylan was determined to get to me—whether it was now, or five years from now. Nothing could have stopped him.” Just saying his name out loud causes an involuntary reaction in my body. I can hear his voice in my head, screaming; his laugh as he hurt me, taunting me.

I close my eyes tight and wait for the feeling to pass. When I’m in control again, I continue.

“So, can you tell me what the damage is? How long am I going to be stuck in this bed?” I try to make light of the situation but by the look on his face, Cutter isn’t fooled.

"Doc said it's pretty bad. He couldn't do an X-ray here but there’s no doubt that your foot and forearm were both broken. The casts will have to be on for six to eight weeks. The cuts and bruises will heal like normal.” He pauses and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Do you know what happened to your back?"

His eyes study me as I shake my head. I remember him slicing into me but I have no idea what it looks like. "He carved the word…" His voice trails off as he takes my hand. Seeing how much this is hurting him, I almost want to tell him not to finish. That it doesn’t matter because I’m here and he’s here and I’m going to be okay.

But I need to know what he did.

"He carved the word whore into your lower back. Doc said the cuts are deep enough that it’ll scar." His lips graze the back of my hand but his eyes stay on me as he watches me try to take it in.

For some strange reason, I hear Tracie’s voice in my head, telling me there are two ways I can deal with this. I can tell Cutter everything that’s going on inside my head, knowing it’ll cut him to the core and leave scars that won’t ever heal.

Or I can be an old lady.

"Well, I guess that means that Nikki will just have to take me to get my property tattoo sooner rather than later." I smile.

Act like it, until it becomes who you are.

I’m not sure Cutter feels the same.

He stands, hands linked behind his head, his mouth wide. “How can you joke about this? Look at what he did to you. He videoed himself with you and sent it to me. He hurt you to rub it in my face because I helped you leave. How can you not hate me?”

He paces the room, far enough that I can’t reach out to him. I wish I could go to him and show him that I don’t blame him for this, but I’m stuck in this damn bed.

“He poisoned you, and if the cocky sonofabitch hadn’t bragged about it, I would have lost you. You spent the longest time throwing up last night. We had to force liquid charcoal down your throat to help fight any of the shit that might have been left.” His hands scrub his face. “Watching you go through that, holding you down, hearing you scream in pain, seeing that fucking video, it killed me.”

“Come here.” My voice shakes from the pain in my body and the pain in my heart. I hate that he’s blaming himself. “Lie down with me.”

He looks torn. For the longest moment I think he’s going to walk out and I’m not sure how I’ll cope with that. Then he walks around the bed and joins me. “It’s killing me seeing you lying here. Seeing you wince with each movement. Fuck.”

I reach out to snatch his hand in mine, using it to tug him closer. "Listen to me, you're not to blame. If I need to tell you every minute of every day, I will. You saved me. I held onto you while I was there. A part of me knew that you would come for me—that you wouldn't let me down. That part’s the only thing that kept me going."

He rests his forehead against mine. “When I saw you lying there, my heart stopped. I was so scared. I thought I was too late. I thought I lost you.” His mouth presses against mine and although it hurts something awful, I hold back my cries, not wanting him to pull away.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

He kisses me again and I want to spend forever just like this. With him next to me, no one else.

“Do you need anything? Am I hurting you?” He pulls back and takes my shoulders, looking me over, his face etched with concern.

I smile at him. “The only thing I need is right next to me.”

 

***

 

I wake up and Cutter is gone. Glancing around the room, I catch sight of him in the chair by the bed.

Why did he move?

The door opens and Twisted walks in.

"Heard that you were up." He walks over to the bed and Cutter opens his eyes, sitting up in his seat. "How you feeling?" Twisted asks.

“Like crap, but it’ll pass.” I offer him a smile. I feel like I need to keep my spirits up with everyone else being so upset. The last thing they need is me bringing them down.

He turns to Cutter. “We need to finish up in the garage.”

My head snaps up. That’s where Lucy said Dylan was.

Cutter stands up and comes over to kiss my forehead. “I’ll grab one of the girls to come hang with you for a little.” He walks over to the door but when I call out to him, he turns.

“I want to see him.”

They look shocked at my admission.

“No.” Cutter’s voice is firm.

"Please, Cutter. I need to do this."

The two of them look at me but don’t make any move to leave. With a shake of my head I flatten my hands against the bed and work on pushing myself up, groaning with each inch.

Cutter comes toward me but I hold up a hand. "No, let me do this."

Inch by inch I move, pushing through the pain and pooling all of the strength I have. He needs to know that I can do this; that I won't break.

The feeling of elation once I'm sitting up quickly gives way to regret. My ribs scream and my stitches feel like they are ripping open.

But I won’t let that stop me.

"I need the last time I see him to be a time when I show him that he can't beat me. I don't want to live with him thinking he won—that he beat me and destroyed me like he wanted to. I need this to finally move on."

Cutter mumbles, turning away from my gaze.

I look at Twisted, who hasn’t moved a muscle. His eyes rake over me and I’m hot with the sudden impulse to hide. Instead, I lift my chin and meet his gaze, acting every inch the old lady I am.

“I think it’s good.”

My composure slips and my mouth drops.

“If you remember, Lucy needed that same closure. Not like he’s in any shape to do anything. We’ll all be there.” Twisted shrugs his shoulders and looks over at Cutter. “Thing is, if she goes down there, you gotta let her handle it. You can’t jump in when he comes back with some asshole remark, because you know he will. This is her chance to take back what the bastard took from her, and you have to be man enough to let her do that on her own.” He claps Cutter on the back and shoots me a wink before walking out the door.

Cutter stands in the middle of the room for what seems like forever before he turns to me. “I get why you say you need this. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

I understand where he’s coming from. If it were him in the same situation, I probably wouldn’t be happy about it, either. “I don’t like it either, but sometimes the most important times in our life aren’t the happiest. Someone once told me that I had a strength inside of me and that I could do anything. Dylan made me feel like nothing. I want to show him he was wrong and that no matter how he tried, he didn’t break me.”

Cutter smiles at me for the first time since I woke up. “I could learn a thing from you.”

“Just one?” I cock an eyebrow.

“Watch it.” He laughs as he bends down. “I’ll carry you down. Doc is bringing you crutches, but they aren’t here yet. You need to let me know if I’m hurting you.”

I nod my head, knowing that he will, but I won't let him know it. His arms slide under me and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. It would be pretty impossible for it not to hurt—my body feels like it's been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head against his chest. As he takes me down the stairs and through the main room, all eyes are focused on me. And as much as I don’t want to hide away, I can’t bring myself to look at them right now.

Cutter walks toward Twisted, who’s holding a door open. The minute we pass the doorway, a stench like I've never smelled hits me. I start to cough because the air feels so thick. Cutter nods to where Dylan hangs. And I say hangs because he’s suspended from the ceiling, his arms holding his weight. A dirty sheet cloaks him, a hole cut away for his head to poke through. "They covered him, for your own good. I don't like you being here, so try and hurry this up."

I take in the floor beneath Dylan, stained with blood and other weird marks, the origin of which I don’t want to consider. A chair has been placed in front of him, far enough away that he couldn’t reach even if he wanted to. Cutter sits me down and I take a minute to regain my composure before looking up at Dylan.

I should be scared seeing him again.

I should want to turn around and run knowing he's here.

I don’t.

And that makes me feel stronger than I ever thought I would be.

“Wake up, asshole.” Twisted nudges Dylan’s body and he groans as his eyes crack open. Well, one does.

“Well, look”—he coughs—“what the cat dragged in.”

Anyone else would have been surprised that he’s still able to maintain this cocky demeanor, despite being at a distinct disadvantage.

But I’m not anyone.

“I just wanted to see you one last time. I wanted you to know that you didn’t break me. You always thought I was weak, but I’m not. I never was. I was just blinded and manipulated by someone who I thought loved me.”

He wheezes and the V at the base of his neck pulls in and out as he struggles for breath. "You are weak. You always will be. Maybe for now you can hide behind the leather-bound idiot, but eventually that’ll break down. You’ll fail . . . it’s what you’re good at." He smiles at me, showing off yellowing teeth coated in blood.

It amazes me how someone who knows that they have little time left can be this much of a jerk.

“That’s where you’re wrong. The old me would have done that, but I’ve changed. The old me would still be hiding in her room because the very thought of you here would have scared her. But she’s long gone. The new me fought just to get to come here and tell you that I survived. I’ll continue to live. I’ll be happy and I’ll be free—without you. You may have taken five years from me, but today I take my life back.”

I look over to Cutter, giving him a nod and letting him know I’m ready to leave.

I’m ready to forget about this entire nightmare.

It’s time to leave the hurt and mayhem behind me.

It’s time to be free.