Convict Me (Broken Heroes 1)

Her small fragile body sits in a wooden chair, her limbs tied with rope, her beautiful face swollen, bloodied, and beaten.

She doesn’t move, not even as I walk toward her. Her head remains hanging to the side and those beautiful blue eyes I love so much are firmly closed.

Staring at her there, I think she might be dead, and in that second, I know I won’t walk out of this house alive if it’s true. If she is dead, my life is over.

A low whimper is what makes me take another step forward. I kneel in front of her, afraid to touch her, afraid I may hurt her even more. “Elyse? Please, baby, can you hear me?”

She tries to open her eyes, but she’s too weak. “Hero?”

Her angel voice is low and raspy, but it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in my entire life. I move behind her and retrieve my pocket knife, then start cutting through the rope. “I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Hang on. We’ll get you to a hospital. I’ll make this right. I’ll never let you go again—never.”

The moment I free her from the restraints, she falls forward, her body too weak to even sit up on her own. I catch her and pull her into my chest. Overcome with emotions I don’t understand, I begin to sob.

I hear footsteps behind me and shift to face whoever it is.

I’ll kill them. All of them.

“She’s okay, man. She’s okay.” Damon’s voice fills the room.

My saddened gaze slips down over Elyse, taking in her broken features. “She’s not okay…” My voice cracks as more tears slide down my cheeks. “She’s not okay.” I dismiss Damon and start up the stairs. My eyes remain on Elyse, my ears listening to the dull thump of her heart.

“No one will ever hurt you again. No one,” I whisper, kissing her softly on her cheek.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Elyse

There’s a blinding light that tries to enter my eyes every time they flutter. Oh, how I wish the morning sunlight would just go away. I shift against the bed sheets. My body aches so badly. I halt my movements and try to open my eyes. It takes an immense amount of energy to get them open, but when I do, everything comes rushing back to me.

The basement. Hero’s father. The horrible things he did to me. My parents. A machine beside me beeps, getting louder and louder. I move my gaze toward it and realize I’m in a hospital.

Machines surround me, and needles poke into my arm. My wrist is no longer in a brace. It is in an actual cast now. I scan the room for someone and find Hero sitting on a chair beside me.

His eyes are closed, and his head is resting on his own shoulder. As if he senses me looking at him in his sleep, his eyes pop open and his dark gaze locks on mine. There’re bluish bags underneath his eyes, telling me he’s had a sleepless night or two. He sits up in his chair and reaches for my hand. My fingers inch toward him, but that little bit of movement is enough to cause me pain.

I wince, grinding my teeth together to hold back the anguish wanting to escape my lips.

“Baby, don’t move, okay?”

Hero’s voice sounds almost foreign. I’ve never heard him sound so concerned and pained before. “I’m sorry, Elyse—so fucking sorry for all of this. If I’d just stayed. If I’d just told you no, and pushed back, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

I shake my head at him and try to talk. My mouth opens, but I can’t push out the words. Looking around, I search for something to drink.

Hero gets up and grabs a cup of water sitting on the little slide out table for me.

Holding it to my lips, I suck greedily from the straw. Cool water touches my cracked, dry lips, and I guzzle down the drink like it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.

When my throat finally feels somewhat normal, I try to talk again. “Hero—this is not your fault.” The words finally come out, but I have to take a little break in between. Even talking is hard labor. “Please—don’t blame yourself.”

My mind slowly drifts to the people responsible for my kidnapping.

My own parents.

I hate them. I never thought the day would come when I would feel that way, but it has.

“If I would have listened to you and stayed home, this wouldn’t have happened. There are so many what ifs. You can’t claim full responsibility when it wasn’t all your fault.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say.

Like always, I know how stubborn and set in his ways he can be. But I’m stubborn too, and there’s no way I’m letting him take the blame on this.