Catching Teardrops (MAC Security 5)

I’m numb. Amazingly numb. I guess that’s what happens when you switch yourself off, not letting anything or anyone worm its way inside your consciousness. I watch out of blurry eyes as Jonah stands up and zips up his jeans with a smile on his face. The same smile he used to give me when he caught my eye in the hallway at school. Was that really only a few months ago?

Dad sits off to the side, his legs wide on the stool and his face a perfect mask. I can’t tell what he’s thinking—I don’t want to know what’s going through his mind right now.

I shiver as a slight wind comes through the crack in the badly fitted window. My legs are uncovered, only the t-shirt I was wearing when my dad took me covering part of my body.

The concrete floor scrapes against the back of my legs as I shuffle back with my arms wrapped around myself. It’s a false sense of security though because nothing will stop them from taking what they want.

The sun went down long ago and when the darkness surrounded us, they seemed to become crueler with both their actions and words. Blood drips over my skin from being whipped, my eye is closed shut, and I’m sure something in my jaw is broken because I can barely move it.

“Please,” I mumble before wincing from the pain. “No more.”

Jonah’s eyes flash at my plea, causing his grin to become wider as he steps forward, his boots smacking off the floor.

“I’ll say when we’re finished,” he growls out. “I decide—”

“No.” Dad stands up before slowly walking toward us, his gaze not leaving me. “I still decide until you marry her.” He crosses his arms over his chest when he halts a couple of feet in front of me. “You have thirty minutes,” he tells me.

“What?” Jonah spins around and even I can hear his raging breaths as they come sharp and fast. “She doesn’t get a break!”

Dad stares at him and I can’t help backing away from him with the look in his eyes. Even though it’s not for me, I still recoil at it.

“You’ll do well to remember our agreement, Jonah,” Dad says, his voice low.

Jonah’s hands clench at his sides as he stands at his full height. “Yeah. I remember good and well, Brendan,” he spits. “I’ve been watching her and reporting back to you for a year now!” My eyes widen as he steps toward Dad. “I did all your dirty work, now I want my reward!”

Dad shakes his head, calm exuding every part of him. “Patience, Jonah. You need to learn patience.” His gaze flicks to me before he tilts his head toward the stairs. “Let’s talk about this upstairs. There’s more you need to learn than how to keep a woman in line.”

They both stare at each other, neither one moving an inch. I expect more of a fight from Jonah, but after a beat he nods and walks toward the stairs, my dad following him.

I listen as the stairs creak with each of their footsteps, and when the door closes behind them and the click of the lock reverberates through the basement I can finally take a breath.

I have no idea how long they’ve both been down here with me. All I know is the sun went down way too many hours ago and I wish for it to come back up as soon as possible. At least in the daylight I can make everything out a little more and give myself a false sense of security.

Every part of me aches, and when I look down at my legs and lift my t-shirt to stare at the burn marks mixed in with the bruises and broken skin from their lashings, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

Will people really believe nothing is going on when I turn up at the church in a couple of days with fresh bruises on my face? Will they even notice? I close my eyes as I berate myself. Of course they won’t. They’ll believe the lies they’re fed without questioning what is right in front of them. I’ve been sitting in that church for years with bruises covering my skin and not one person has stood up and asked what was going on.

Rattling behind me has my head whipping to the side. A groan slips free from the pain it causes but I keep my gaze trained on the window. It’s silent for several seconds and just when I think I imagined it, I hear it again. Metal scraping on wood, banging… what—

The wooden frame of the window pops out, the glass still intact as the whole thing is removed. I try to stand, using the wall as support but I’m too weak.

“Lily?” a voice whispers.

No. It can’t be—it’s a dream. A figment of my imagination. Luke can’t be here. He can’t be in this basement ready to risk everything to help me again. I close my eyes and let my head tilt back as I imagine his face—his ice-blue eyes, his small smile when I say something he finds funny, the way his hands reach out for me when he doesn’t even realize it.

“Can you stand?” My eyes whip open before my hand moves to my chest when I see him standing in front of me wearing all black.

“L-uke?” I stutter, my voice rough and scratchy. “What are you doing?”

“I told you, darlin’.” He crouches down before his arms come around my back and under my legs. “I’d protect you.”

“But…” My gaze searches the room and finally lands on the door that connects the basement to the house. “They’re up there.”

“I know,” he growls out, not saying another word as he stands up and moves toward the window. “You’re gonna have to summon up some strength, angel.” He halts before looking down at me with a clenched jaw. “I need you to get through the window.”

I nod, knowing it’s now or never. If I don’t push through the agony now, I’ll never be able to escape them.

He lifts me as far as he can, practically pushing me through the window, but I suck in a deep breath at the last moment and propel myself forward and out. Using the side of the house, I push myself into a standing position.