Stolen Beauty (Jackson Family 1)

I flicked on the light to the basement before I opened the door. Emmaline paused, swallowing thickly, fear shining in her eyes. “James,” she whispered, “I really don’t like basements.”

I turned her to face me and reached up to grab her face in my hands. “Little one, what did I promise you?” I asked her. “One of the very first promises I ever made to you,” I reminded her.

“That you would never hurt me,” she quietly answered, her body trembling against me despite my promise to her.

I nodded. “I’m also never going to allow something else to happen to you,” I reminded her. “Just trust me,” I begged her. “Can you do that, little one? Can you trust me?”

Swallowing thickly, she finally nodded her head, being my brave woman. I softly kissed her. “There’s my queen,” I whispered in praise. I grabbed her hand in mine again and led her down the basement steps.

A gasp of horror left Emmaline’s lips when her eyes landed on her foster mother. She stumbled on the last step, and I quickly caught her, pulling her tighter against my body.

“James,” she whimpered, “what the fuck is going on?”

“I made you a promise that I would make everyone who ever hurt you fucking pay,” I told her. “This is me keeping that promise.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she shook her head. “I just wanted to forget,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

I shrugged, though I reached up to gently cup the side of her neck, brushing my thumb over her jawline. “Now you can forget knowing they’re dead,” I told her honestly.

I moved away from her and over to her foster mother. The woman glared up at me. I gripped her hair and roughly yanked her head back. “Do you know who I am?” I asked her.

“No,” she spit. “I don’t give a fuck, either.”

Wrong choice of words, lady.

I smirked. “No?” I asked. “Not even if I tell you I’m the fucking head of this Family – James Jackson?” I asked her.

Her face paled. She’d heard of me. Good. That meant she knew what kind of man I was.

It was always more entertaining when they feared who I was and what I represented.

“Emmaline is my woman,” I introduced. “You should know her as the little girl you fed to the wolves over a simple misunderstanding.”

She stayed silent, but her face paled a little bit more. She knew exactly what I was talking about. Emmaline may not have told me about it, but everything I needed to know was in the report. Emmaline had been taken to the hospital when this woman had finally allowed her to come back out. She’d been beaten to within an inch of her life, touched in a way young girls should never be touched, her innocence ripped from her at a very young age.

I yanked the woman up from the seat she was on and forced her onto her knees in front of Emmaline. Adrian was standing next to her, and she was squeezing his hands for dear life as she silently cried all while she stared at the woman kneeling on the floor in front of her – the woman who destroyed a part of my sweet woman that she would never get back.

Jealousy rose up hot and fast as I stared at her and Adrian’s joined hands, but I locked it back down. Emmaline needed comfort, and I wouldn’t deny her that.

“I believe you owe her a fucking apology,” I sneered.

“I don’t owe her shit.”

I shoved her face against my knee, breaking her nose. She screamed in pain. Emmaline gagged as she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away, her body trembling. I clenched my jaw. “I said I believe you owe my woman a fucking apology,” I reminded the woman.

“I’m sorry, Emmaline. I’m so fucking sorry,” the woman cried. Emmaline looked back down at her, her pretty face pale. “Emmaline, please don’t let him kill me,” she pleaded.

Emmaline rolled her lips into her mouth, her shoulders shaking. She looked at me. There was so much pain in her eyes, and through that pain, I could see that little girl screaming and crying, begging for someone to help her, to free her of her demons.

And I was here to fucking do that.

I pulled my knife out of my pocket and flipped it open, holding it to her foster mother’s throat. “This is what happens to anyone who has ever or will ever fuck with my queen,” I growled in her ear.

I slit her throat and let her fall forward on the floor. Adrian moved Emmaline out of the way just in time to keep the woman from falling on her. I stepped over the struggling woman and drew Emmaline into my arms. She wailed as her tears poured down her cheeks, her broken cry echoing through the room.

“They’re all dead,” I quietly told her, running my hand over her hair, gently rocking her side to side. “It’s over, baby. It’s all fucking over. They’ll never be able to fucking touch you again.” I drew in a deep breath. “Even the man that was in that room with you is fucking dead,” I promised.

She sobbed, her knees giving out beneath her. I sank down to the floor with her as she screamed out her pain, her arms linking around my neck as she clung to me. I held her all while she sobbed and cried, finally releasing all of the pain and suffering she’d been holding inside of her for so many fucking years.

She was finally completely free.

And I was the lucky son of a bitch who got to bring her this freedom.