Page 82 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Prologue

Wren

The suitcase feels heavier than it should, like it knows the weight of the situation I’m leaving behind.

Every shove, every frantic fold is an act of rebellion against the apartment and the man that has imprisoned me here for years.

My hands ache as I struggle with the zipper, the tremor in my fingers refusing to settle.

Each tug sounds like a scream in the suffocating silence.

The air in the apartment is thick, oppressive, and coated in the bitter aftertaste of rage.

The shattered lamp in the corner catches the faint light, its jagged edges glinting like broken promises.

The walls seem alive, their cracks whispering secrets of every shout, every cruel word, every sharp blow.

I can feel them watching me as I move, mocking my escape.

“Wren! Where the fuck are you?” Richard shouts as the front door slams closed. My heart beats erratically in my chest as I move quickly through the room. There’s no telling what he’s pissed about this time, but his tone says it all.

Run.

Richard is the only person I’ve ever known to go from zero to sixty in a split second. He walks through the house, slamming doors and screaming my name.

“You dumb bitch, where are you hiding?” His footsteps grow louder, echoing from the hallway. He’s coming right for me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

The door to the bedroom bursts open and he comes in with all his sick and twisted glory.

I grip my mouth as hard as I can to hold in my labored breaths.

The last thing I want to do is give away my hiding spot.

I’m not sure why I thought that this would be the best place to hide.

He’s definitely going to look under the bed.

Sweat trickles down my temple, and my breathing becomes shallow.

My eyes are focused on the bedroom door and the shadowy figure standing there.

I can just barely make out the silhouette of his hand clutching the brass doorknob.

Tears prick my eyes as I watch him stomp around the room, his shadow shifting as he goes.

My heart leaps in my throat when he moves in my direction.

I try to scoot back, but the headboard keeps me from moving any further.

This is it. He’s going to find me and kill me.

I know he will. He’s threatened it so many times before.

The floorboards creak under his weight and the thick smell of alcohol permeates through the room.

Then all movement stops, making the silence deafening.

My ears ring as I wait for him to move again.

But he doesn’t. He’s standing above me, and I’m sure his gaze is locked on the bed.

I close my eyes, hoping he leaves but knowing he won't.

He kneels on the floor and the tears fall. “Come out, you stupid slut!”

I cover my mouth with both hands and shake my head. I refuse to make a sound. He crawls to the bed and reaches a hand underneath. I push myself into the wall and freeze.

Suddenly, his grip tightens around my ankle and his other hand grabs the back of my neck. He yanks me from under the bed and slings me across the floor like I’m nothing. My head hits the dresser, and a piercing pain shoots through me.

“Richard, stop!” I scream. I don’t know who I’m talking to.

The man I fell in love with is long gone.

In his place is a monster, a shell of the person he used to be.

He grips the collar of my shirt and lifts me to my feet.

My stomach rolls and my vision blurs. I can hear him grunting and yelling, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

He grips my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Wren!” He screams my name, his voice booming through the room.

He shakes me so hard that my brain rattles against my skull.

My vision clears, but I wish it didn’t. The fear of what he might do settles in and makes my blood run cold.

“Are you listening to me?” I nod slowly and he shakes me again.

My knees buckle and he catches me before I hit the floor. “I asked you a fucking question!”

My breathing picks up, and my voice trembles. “Y-yes. I’m listening.”

He drags me across the floor and throws me onto the bed. My body is shaking and my heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Then answer me, dammit!”

I look up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking.” I wipe my face and try to sit up but Richard pushes me back down.

He pulls a picture from his back pocket and throws it on my chest. I pick it up and stare at it in disbelief.

“Who the hell is this? After everything I've done for you and you think you can go out and fuck whoever you want.

You're nothing more than a worthless whore!” He leans down and grips my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his soulless black eyes.

“You belong to me and nobody else. Do you understand? You're fucking mine.”

My voice shakes as I speak. “Richard, this isn’t me. I swear. I’ve never seen this man in my life!”

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me!” He raises his hand and I flinch as the pain radiates through my head. I hold my face in my hands and try to roll away from him as he draws back for another strike. He grabs my waist and flips me onto my back.

My heart is in my stomach and my skin is crawling. I can’t believe he thinks that picture is me. It looks like me, but it’s not. I’ve never been to the club where the photo was taken, nor have I ever seen the man in the picture.

Richard presses his knee into my stomach, pinning me to the bed. “I’ll show you what happens when you lie to me.” He reaches for his belt and I try to push him off of me.

“Please, Richard. Don’t. I swear to you it isn’t me in the picture. You have to believe me. I didn’t lie to you!”

He ignores me and backhands me again. This time, blood sprays from my nose and my ears start to ring.

He keeps hitting me over and over until my vision fades and my body goes limp.

I can feel him on top of me. I can feel his hands on my skin, but I can’t move.

I can’t fight back. I can’t even scream.

I lay helpless as his weight crushes my chest. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

I have to get out of here. I have to get away from him. Somehow.

Seven minutes. That’s all the time I’ve got.

Seven minutes before he comes back, before the door slams, and his shadow engulfs me again.

I can see his tracker on my phone and I know this is the only chance I have.

He walked down the street to his friend’s house, leaving my beaten, limp body behind.

Little does he know that even with my wounds, I have enough fight left in me to get up and pack.

He always says I have nowhere to go. He says I’ll always come back. But tonight, I’ll prove him wrong.

The car keys are cold in my pocket. I carefully stole them while his back was turned.

The thought of him searching for them, realizing too late that I’m gone, gives me enough courage to grab the suitcase and head for the door.

My legs feel weak, my breath shallow, as though the air itself is trying to pull me back inside.

But the night calls to me like a distant whisper, sharp and electric.

I step out into it with my heart pounding like war drums.

I don’t dare look back. The shadows of this place stretch long and dark behind me, clawing at my heels. I know they’ll haunt me for years to come. But it’s better than staying, better than letting his rage dictate the rest of my days, or worse, the end of them.

The road ahead is swallowed in darkness, unknown and unkind. I don’t know where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter. Tonight, I choose the abyss over the prison. And even if it swallows me whole, I will never go back.