Page 31

“Hope!” he calls frantically and runs over to her, shaking her limp form.
I follow close on his heels, panting. I glance around, but there’s no sign of Coach. Sounds of a scuffle from the back lure me closer. Knox.
A part of me wants to go help him. I could picture myself fucking Coach up as badly as I did my dad… If Knox gave me any opening to do that. I nearly take another step towards the back until I hear the panic in Jaxon’s voice.
“No, no,” he mumbles. “Dimitri, I don’t think she’s breathing.”
“What?” is all I can say as I push him aside and hold Hope’s face in my hands.
Her jaw and cheekbone are purple, cuts and blood on her other cheek. My eyes drop to the bruises around her neck. They’re red and purple, in the shape of Coach’s hands, ringing around her throat like the worst collar I’ve ever seen.
“No,” I breathe.
“Move!” Jaxon barks and slams the table in half to break the shackles free. It takes three tries and I hear the table splintering under the force of each blow before the shackles give up. “Not again,” he whispers and lays Hope on her back on the ground.
I’m too stunned to move.
Her dress is ripped to pieces and our three initials are all I can see.
Ours to protect…
Jaxon presses his head to her chest and I wait for him to speak up. My lungs scream for air, telling me I’m holding my breath. All that matters is Hope surviving, her being okay. We got here. We came. We can’t have been too late.
His tense shoulders drop and he leans back. “He didn’t… She’s, ehm…”
“Spit it out!”
He shudders and brushes his fingers through her hair as if she’s made of paper, as if he’ll hurt her if he’s too rough. “He didn’t kill her, we got here…”
In all these years, I’ve never seen Jaxon break or cry. Or show any other emotion that doesn’t fit his twisted self. I hate seeing his watery eyes. I hate seeing him shaking, I hate all of it. This isn’t him and the fact that it’s right in front of me doesn’t convince me that this isn’t a nightmare.
Until I look at Hope and see her so savagely beaten. Not even my nightmares are this warped. This is real. We’re falling apart.
“I didn’t lose her,” he whispers so soft, so weak.
KNOX
My mind is a mess; uncertainty keeps nagging at me. I know what is right, I know what is wrong. But I live in the grey area.
I’m too slow, too confused as I rest against the back door of the cabin, staring at Coach. Half of me wants to throw myself at him and show him every ounce of agony he caused Hope. The other part of me…
“You can’t do it?” Coach laughs and my brows tighten together.
This isn’t a victory for him. Can’t he see how fucked up this is? Did my small beating not prove to him I’m capable of plenty? How many times do we have to show him that he’s not the man we used to know? How many different ways does he need this shit explained to him?
But none of that comes out of my mouth because there’s one thing more obvious than any other.
“You saved me,” I state as I know that’s true. “But you hurt her.”
We all did. We pushed her to the brink. She cut herself because of me.
“And yet, here you stand, doing nothing,” he mocks.
I blink at him. “I can’t let you go.”
“Then fight me,” he dares.
I push myself off the wooden surface and wander toward him. My strides aren’t big and powerful. Even though I know he’s the bad guy, he made me.