“Real shame to burn your pops house down,” Marney says.
I turn to Tor and stroke a hand over her soft hair. She’s the only thing besides this rage that can make me feel anything but complete despair. “I have every-fucking-thing right here.”
The sun sinks below the horizon as we drive, winding through foothills and tiny mountain roads until we reach Marney’s cabin. A sense of nostalgia washes over me for a moment when I set foot on the wooden porch. My dad used to bring us here when we were kids. It’s where he taught Caleb and me to shoot.
“Aw, hell.” Marney snatches something from the doorknob. “Damn Jehovah’s Witnesses leaving their message about saving my soul. I told ‘em last year I was going to hell, and I was happy ‘bout it.” He yanks at the door, the rusted hinges groaning when it finally pops open. “There are bedrooms upstairs, little darlin’.” He gives Tor a weird look before he flips the lights.
The place hasn’t changed in my lifetime. A godawful pea-green couch sits on the far wall underneath about fifteen mounted deer heads, and the big-screen TV in the corner has to be obsolete.
“Go on now,” Marney jerks his head toward the steps before shooing Tor towards them. “Go to bed and get some rest.”
I shoot Marney a confused look when Tor heads upstairs. “What’s that shit about?”
“What are you on about, boy?”
I stand at the foot of the stairwell, watching him as he grabs a beer from the fridge and pops the tab. I know Marney, and he’s acting weird as hell. Then again, aren’t we all… He glances at me and scowls. “You go on and get some sleep too. I need your ass on high alert.”
Shaking my head, I climb the rickety steps. When I reach the first spare room, Tor’s already in the bed, curled into a ball.
I strip down to my boxers, slip into bed beside her, and pull her against my chest. “What are you thinking, doll?”
“Nothing.” I know it’s a lie. That dead look still hasn’t left her eyes. I tell myself if she wants to talk about it, she will. That time will heal her wounds.
I stroke my hand over her hair, grounding my own emotions by focusing on her. The soft, clean scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the crisscross pattern her fingertip weaves over my chest. She’s an anchor, a bright light in a pit of darkness. She is the only thing that matters. And that will never change, not now. I let her go once, but I know I could never do it again.
Chapter Tor
Hands pin me down, restraining me. "Victoria, you know fighting is useless." His disgusting cock presses against me. "I'll only hurt you more."
I jump awake, sucking a gasping breath into my lungs.
Someone touches my face, hot breaths blowing against my cheek. Sheer terror grips me in its clutches, and I thrust my hand under my pillow, grateful when my fingers brush the cool metal of the gun. I pull the gun up in front of me. I can only make out a shadowy figure in the darkness.
"Stay the fuck away from me." I stumble from the bed and click the safety off. Any reservations I once had about shooting anyone are long gone.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" The weapon shakes in my slick hands.
"Tor, put the gun down."
Reality and dream blur and then pull apart. Jude. It's Jude. I almost shot him. Shame and embarrassment chase the fear, and I can’t bear Jude’s pitying gaze. When he moves to get out of bed, I rush for the door and hurry to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Once the door is locked, I press my back to it and slide to the floor. The chill of the cold tiles ground me, calming my hammering pulse.
"Tor.” The handle to the bathroom door rattles. “Please put down the gun." There’s a slight tremor in his voice.
I glance at the weapon still clutched in my hand. I didn’t even realize I still had a hold of it.
“Please, Tor,” he whispers. He thinks I’m going to shoot myself. Does he think I’m so unstable? I guess it would be an easy way out of this... Quick. Painless. But I will never give Tom the satisfaction of breaking me so entirely.
“Just put it down.”
Guilt eats away at me at the vulnerability in Jude’s voice. The man who would normally batter down the door now stands on the other side, pleading, as though he’s terrified of pushing me over the edge. And that feels like the real tragedy right now.
I stand, and pull open the door, coming face to face with Jude's massive build. His forearms brace either side of the frame; his head hung forward in defeat. He slowly lifts his face, and his green eyes meet mine. It pains me to see such a powerful man look so destroyed. I know I'm selfish. Caleb is dead, and I'm all Jude has. He has told me this, and yet, I can't seem to muster the will to care.