Not this time.
I’m stronger now.
I tilt my head when I analyze the stirrups closer. The arm of them reminds me of a tire iron. Maybe if I could break one off, I could pry a few pieces of wood off the wall again and get us out of here.
A door slams, and the entire house shakes.
It’s him.
I grab the stirrup and pull, but it doesn’t budge. I use my foot to kick it, and slowly it bends. “Come. On,” I huff, kicking the damn thing until it’s bent in a ninety-degree angle.
The pounding steps of him coming closer have my adrenaline pumping, and I smash my foot against the stirrup one last time until it breaks off. “Yes!?
? I say quietly, grabbing the broken piece and wielding it like a sword to stab him in the gut or head. Whatever is easiest.
There’s clicking on the other side of the door, and all we can do is stand there and wait for our nightmare to face us. The door swings open, and before I can think better of it because I’m pissed off and tired of this bullshit, I charge.
Blinded by rage I swing the stirrup, but a hand catches it before it can make contact. “Babe, it’s me. It’s Owen. You’re okay.”
“Owen?” I drop the weapon slowly and blink the murderous haze away. “Owen!” I throw my arms around him and cry, sobbing into his neck. “You’re here. You came for me.”
He holds me tight, cupping the back of my head. “I’ll always come for you, Jolie. I’ll always look for you. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He takes a step back and eyes me head to toe, then his hands pat me down checking for any injuries. “Where are you clothes?” he asks darkly, then pulls his own shirt over his head and tugs it over mine. His shirt falls to my knees, and I’m engulfed in his scent.
I’m safe.
“No, I’m okay, but she might need help.” I point over my shoulder to Heather. “Those are where my clothes went.”
“Howard!” Owen calls for the cop who threatened to arrest him. “Is everyone okay? You know, for the most part.”
“I just want to go home,” Heather mutters weakly.
“We’re going to get you guys out of here,” Owen reassures just as Howard comes up behind him, gun in hand.
“The area is clear. He isn’t here.”
“What the hell do you mean, he isn’t here? Where else would he be?” Owen sneers.
“I don’t know, but he might come back at any minute. We need to get out of here. Now.”
“No,” Owen says. “I’m not going anywhere. This ends today. I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch to make sure he can’t haunt any innocent girl, hurt anyone or me again. This ends now.”
“Owen, no, please! Come back with me. Please,” I beg him. “We can take care of him later. I want you safe with me. Please don’t do this.”
“There isn’t a later, babe.” Owen’s hand lands on either side of my face, and I know, I just know that he’s going to have me in fucking fits with what he’s about to say. “He’s always going to be here. He’s always going to find a way to hurt you. Hurt Heather. Hurt someone like Heather. And he will always be after me for being with you. I need to stop him.”
“You could die,” I whisper, a single tear dripping from my eye.
“We need to go,” Howard says impatiently, then picks Heather up in his arms so she doesn’t have to walk on her raw, cut open feet. “Now. Fucking now, Owen.”
“No, please. You found me. I won’t be able to find you.”
“Howard will. We found you quick. You’re right off the property line five miles back. He knows where to go if I don’t come home.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t say you aren’t coming home. You need to come home to me, okay? Okay? I love you. I love you so much, Owen.”
“I know you’re scared but have a little faith. I’m going to be just fine. I love you.” He kisses me, pressing his mouth against mine until I can hardly breathe, and then he pulls back. I want the kiss to last forever because that means we’re back home, in the comfort of our own home.
Together.