Page 52 of A Secret Escape

“He had a knife!” I cry. “Look! He cut his arm!” I shout, pointing at Marcus as tears spill down my face and my breath catches in my throat, my heart shuddering with palpitations .

No. This cannot be happening.

Torres glances downwards. “Okay. Alright,” he says calmly, his tone soft but firm. “Just take a breath.”

The officers exchange a look between them for a moment.

“You good?” Torres asks Marcus, who grits his teeth and nods, and Torres releases him.

He takes a cautious step towards me. “Lila – is it? I’m going to need to take that from you, alright?”

I follow his gaze down to my hand, suddenly aware of the cold, slick handle of the knife in my palm. I hadn’t even been aware I was still holding it.

I nod shakily.

He pulls a clear plastic bag from a pocket, holding it open with one hand as he reaches forward for the knife. My fingers release the handle as his hand meets mine, taking over.

“Good,” he says. “Thank you.”

He seals the bag with a quiet zip and tucks it away.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but I still don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“Is Marcus going to be arrested?”

Please, no. Please, God, no. My whole body is shaking – part panic, part cold, all dread.

“Calm down, honey,” the second officer says gently. “Mister… Whitehead, here, was it? Just confessed to committing murder. He won’t be a problem to you anymore. The rest looks like pretty clear self-defence from where I’m standing. Wouldn’t you say so, John?”

Torres gives a curt nod .

A breath escapes me as Marcus walks up to me, wrapping his arms around me. His chest rises and falls against mine, his pulse slowing with every second he holds me close.

Relief crashes into guilt, adrenaline still roaring in my veins. My thoughts spin like a storm, too tangled to name, except for one that grounds me: we’re safe.

“Right, let’s get this one in the car,” Torres says, taking out a pair of handcuffs as they haul Chris inside.

“You okay?” Marcus whispers.

I nod, nuzzling my face against his chest, grounding myself in his warmth.

“I’m sorry to ask more of you two tonight, but unfortunately I need you to follow us down to the station to give a statement,” Torres says.

“Of course,” Marcus replies.

“We’ll get that nasty cut patched up as well. That looks quite deep there.”

The second officer looks down at the blood on the floor beneath my feet. “Looks like you may have stepped on some glass there, too. Are you alright to walk?”

“Yea, I’m okay, thank you,” I say.

The second officer leads Chris out the front door, and just as Torres turns to follow, I call out to him. “Wait –”

There’s a shout outside, and we all turn to see the officer restraining Chris bark something harshly at him, followed by the thud of Chris’s body being slammed against the side of a car echoing through the night.

Torres turns back to me .

“I’m dead thankful you were here,” I say, “…but how were you so close? How did you know where to find us? And that we were in danger?”

“Honestly?” he says. “I had a feeling you were holding something back. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something, so we traced your devices and followed you,” he says.

I nod, thinking about the last few days. “Thank you.”

“Good thing we did, too,” he says and smiles as he walks out through the front door.

The adrenaline surging through my veins recedes, and the sudden cold hits me like a ton of bricks. The front and back doors are both open and snow is billowing through the ground floor of the cottage.

Marcus pulls me tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s over,” he says.

I hold him, watching the blood dripping down his arm.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe out, a fresh batch of tears spilling from my eyes.

None of this ever should have happened.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’re safe. It’s all over,” he says, rubbing his arms up and down my back.

The police car doors close outside as Marcus looks down at me.

“You want to go put a top on? Or are you giving the whole station a show?”

And I actually laugh.

Pulling myself away from him, I fold my arms over my chest as I take a step towards the stairs, but I wince, the pain in my feet cutting through me.

“I’ll get it,” Marcus says, noticing, and goes past me up the stairs, returning a moment later with my top, which he slips over my head .

“Come here,” he says, and wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground just enough so that my feet hover off the ground. I wrap my arms around his neck and let him carry me to the car – my knight in shining armour.

As we drive to the station, I can’t keep my eyes off him.

He’s bleeding, exhausted – and still looks like a goddamn superhero.

My heart swells with amazement at how he handled the entire situation.

How had he thought to grab the curtain rod? And somehow managed to disarm a man with a bloody knife, and beat the hell out of him with his bare hands and feet?

And he called me his girlfriend.

I reach over and rest my hand on his shoulder, my heart completely overwhelmed with love.