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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SYDNEY

I slam the door, resting back against it to catch my breath. I feel like I ran a marathon. Oxygen fills my lungs and kicks starts my brain to think straight again. I scan the room for anything I can use against the door. Spotting the chair in the corner, I rush over and pick it up, then ram it under the door handle. Stepping back I admire my work but instantly deflate as it dawns on me that will never keep them out if they really want to get in here.

Shoving the thought aside, labelling it as nonsense, I step away from the door and listen intently for any indication Blake is going to try to speak to me or come in here. I can’t face either of them right this second. My mind is at capacity of what it can cope with. Several minutes pass before I drop onto the bed with a sigh.

I cover my face with my hands and allow my tears freedom. Freedom. Such a simple word that defines a person’s life. Before tonight, I had thought I was free, but I was wrong. I wasn’t free at all. Every decision I’ve ever made has been with the approval of God and my pa, the silent acceptance of doing the right thing. But the right thing for who? Roman’s words about sex outside of marriage hit hard because I did it. I had sex with my fiancé to stop him from straying—again. Look how that ended?

My sobs grow heavier as I think about Pa, the man I trusted the most, the man who raised me, protected me. Why would Roman and Blake think Pa was a rapist, a murderer? Roman’s words come back to me about being wrong and ruining me, Pa telling him to protect me and Blake mentioning someone called Bell. The only thing that makes any sense is if they came here for revenge. And I was clearly part of that.

Let’s defile the innocent daughter to destroy the man.

Nausea roils in my gut, bile burns my throat, and I rush for the bathroom.

It’s empty.

My stomach is empty just like me.

I shower, going through the motions, before climbing into bed, curling into a ball and willing sleep to take me. It does—eventually—but it’s not peaceful.

I lay in bed and watch the sunrise through the open curtains. I didn’t close them last night, not that it would have made a difference to the amount of sleep I managed. Burnt orange spreads across the sky just before the sun crests the horizon, bringing a heavenly glow as it rises higher.

I heard movement from next door about thirty minutes ago, but neither Roman nor Blake have attempted to speak to me. I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. They achieved what they set out to.

I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. My phone vibrates on the bedside table, and I consider ignoring it, but it could be the hospital. I reach for it blindly, swiping and bringing it to my ear without really looking at the caller ID.

“Hello.” My greeting is met with silence. “Helloooo?” I say again with a huff. Again nothing, then as I pull the phone away to end the call, I hear my name.

Putting the phone back to my ear, I’m unsure if I imagined it, but then it comes again.

“Sydney, help me,” comes a haunting whisper.

“Who is this?” I demand as unease spreads through me. “Hello?”

“Sydney…no, no, please…” the voice trails off, transforming into a piercing wail, then the line goes dead.

Hesitating for a moment, the familiarity of the voice washes over me. With my phones gripped in my hand, I leap from the bed, and after a quick wrestle with the chair I jammed in front of the door last night, I yank the door open. Not caring what I might find on the other side, I burst into the room next door.

“Cress—” My words halt, and my mouth falls open. I was not at all prepared for the scene before me, and even less prepared for the burning shot of lust that hits every erogenous zone on my body.

Roman is above Blake on the bed, in a position mirroring my own last night, and thrusting into him as Blake fists his dick. Precum glistens from the head, and my reason for being here falls to the back of the thought process as an intense desire to taste that glittery bead of sin runs rampant through my body.

“Syd. Sydney,” Blake calls, and I shake the dreamy vision of me joining them from my head.

“Er, shit…sorry, but…” My reason for being here slams back into me and I’m moving forward, holding out my phone. “Cress…work…she called, no, someone else…she’s in trouble.” And as I reach them, I direct my phone to Roman. When he doesn’t take it straight away, I shove it into his bare chest, my fingers brushing his hot, damp skin. I fight against the feel of it.

What on earth is wrong with you?

I shake my head again and try to articulate coherently. “Cress, my friend, was on the phone, calling my name, but she sounded scared and was crying, then she screamed. She was begging…” The whole long sentence spills from me in a rush. A hand on my back startles me, and I twist to find Blake sat up.

“Breathe, Syd,” Blake says, trying to calm me.

Roman’s hand wraps round mine, dragging my attention to him. I keep my eyes on his face and away from his deliciously tempting naked body. He takes the phone with his free hand, keeping hold of my hand with the other. He turns the phone to me, activating face ID and unlocking it.

“Did you hear anyone else?” Roman asks, frowning at the screen.

I shake my head. “No, just her. I didn’t realise who it was at first. She sounded hurt and so scared. We have to find her.” My phone pings, and Roman opens the message, then he looks at Blake, silently conveying some message. “What? What is it?” I look back and forth between them. When neither offer an answer, I make a grab for the phone, but Roman is faster, raising it out of reach.

“No, Sydney.” He shakes his head, and I can feel the sympathy in his words and the way he is looking at me.

“I want to see,” I demand, all the while he shakes his head and shuffles back away from me. “Give me my phone, Roman!” But my words fall on deaf ears as Blake’s arms wrap around me stopping me from getting any closer. I fight, pushing and pulling at his arms, wriggling my body, but I’m no match for him, and they both know it.

“I don’t think you want to see that, Syd,” Blake whispers in my ear as I continue to struggle.

“Arrgh!” I scream, throwing my head back against Blake’s chest, then go limp in his arms. I watch as Roman pulls on some boxers then finds his own phone, and I’m guessing he airdrops the message to it. I might have lived a sheltered life, but one thing my pa did was teach me how to defend myself. Blake’s hold loosens a fraction, no doubt due to his injury, and I know this is my chance. I raise my leg and stamp my heel down on Blake’s foot. The second I have enough room, I slam an elbow into his ribs, letting me slip free. I dive at Roman, catching him by surprise and knocking him off balance. I grab my phone and jog to the other side of the room, putting distance between these two men.

I should have listened.

My eyes take in the image on my screen, and I heave, slamming my free hand over my mouth.

The background is dark and blurry, but the centre image is crisp and clear. A woman, stripped naked, blood pooled between her legs. Her face is littered in bruises and smeared with blood, but it’s the deep gash from one side of her neck to the other that has me dropping the phone and falling to my knees.