Page 13

Eleven

DIMITRI

I rub the dried blood from my knuckles but it has stained my skin. Just like her blood. A stain I can never wash, get rid of. I should want to get rid of it, but I can’t.

Knox was the first to do it and I didn’t stop him.

I stare down at her, her body bare and bruised. Jaxon holds her down as the blade rests heavy in my hand.

I crouch down and rest on my knees. She thrashes and sobs, pleading with us.

“Please, no, don’t do this!”

Her cries don’t hit me in the way they should and I press the razor-sharp top to her delicate skin.

She writhes beneath me, but Jaxon’s grip is unwavering.

The knife parts her flesh like butter. Blood wells up, crimson and glistening, as I etch a “D” into her chest. She screams, the sound bouncing off the walls.

The pain in her voice sends a thrill straight down and I can feel myself becoming hard again.

I’ve never felt so powerful, so in control.

“Perfect,” Knox whispers and a sly smile tilts on my lips.

Jaxon groans and I hand him the knife. He takes it eagerly, licking his lips as he presses the point to her skin. His strokes are less precise, more jagged as he carves a “J” next to my initial. Hope’s skin is slick with blood and sweat.

“Hold still, sweetheart. You’re ours now,” he growls and wipes away some of the blood to get a better look.

The letters gleam red against her pale skin, a permanent reminder that she belongs to us. No one can ever take her away now.

The marks will scar, a permanent brand of our ownership.

No matter what happens, no matter who tries to come between us, Hope will always belong to us now. We’ve made sure of that.

“We were wrong,” I mumble as I pull myself back. “We shouldn’t have… marked her. What were we thinking?”

Jaxon scoffs and shakes his head. “No, it was a good thing.”

I roll my neck, almost too exhausted to even ask why. “Why’s that?”

“So she knows she’s ours and we protect what’s ours,” Jaxon interjects.

“Protect?” I mock. “We never protected her.”

“Dimitri, can we not?” Knox says as he stares back at me through the mirror.

“We will, I will.” Jaxon nods and mumbles something under his breath. Even with all these years, I still can’t fully grasp these two.

But I do know we’re as fucked up as Coach is.

“We’re here,” Knox says and I sit up.

This is it. There’s no going back without her.

“Where?” Jaxon snaps.

Knox turns off the engine and sighs. “We have to walk the last part, come on.”

I stuff the map in my back pocket and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. Jaxon and Knox grab their bags from the trunk as I survey our surroundings. Dense pine forest stretches out before us, the air heavy with the scent of sap and earth.

Jaxon is practically vibrating with pent-up energy beside me. Knox scans the tree line, his jaw set in determination. We’re all on edge, fueled by desperation and fury.

“Which way?” Jaxon asks gruffly, shouldering his pack.

I pull out the map Hope drew, trying to orientate us. “Seeing we’re following a map she drew as a kid, I think the safest bet is following the path,” I say, nodding toward a narrow trail snaking into the shadowy woods.

“Come on,” Knox says and takes the lead into the slim path. Branches snag at our clothes as we push deeper into the forest. I keep checking the map, making sure I didn’t miss anything. The further we go, the more overgrown the path becomes.

“You sure this is the right way?” Jaxon grumbles after a while, swatting at a cloud of mosquitoes. “Feels like we’re going in circles.”

“It’s the only way that matches the map and the path here,” I insist, but doubt niggles at the back of my mind. What if we got it wrong? What if Coach moved her somewhere else?

Knox must sense my unease. He claps a hand on my shoulder as we pause to catch our breath. “We’ll find her,” he says firmly.

I swallow hard and nod, folding up the map. “Those cabins can’t be much further.”

The sun sinks behind the mountains. A coldness fills the air. I halt on the spot as Jaxon throws out an arm. He puts a finger to his lips then points through the trees. There, maybe fifty yards ahead, is a cabin. A single light glows in the window. My breath catches. This is it.

We drop into a crouch, scoping around. No vehicles, no signs of movement. Coach likely thinks he’s completely isolated out here, that no one could ever find them.

He’s wrong.

We creep closer, staying low and sticking to the shadows. My heart pounds against my ribs as we approach the wooden cabin. Jaxon motions for us to split up and I nod, pulse racing. Knox circles around back while Jax and I flank the front door.

I peer through the smudged glass window, trying to make out shapes.

A flicker of movement catches my eye and my breath hitches.

It’s Hope. She’s shackled to a table, her clothes in tatters with her father’s hand around her throat.

His grip is so tight that I can make out the veins across the back of his hand.

Rage boils up inside me at the sight, my vision flashing red. That sick fuck.

Jaxon trembles with rage beside me and I put my hand on his arm, forcing him to look at me.

I pry at the doorknob and sigh, it’s locked.

Tearing my eyes from the scene inside, I give Jaxon one more nod and brace myself as I ram my shoulder into the door once, twice, until it splinters inward with a crack.

Jaxon is through in a second, his good luck charm shining on his knuckles.

“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.

With a sharp breath, I lunge, tackling Coach to the ground.

We grapple and roll, trading blows. His fist cracks against my jaw, snapping my head back.

I taste blood. Snarling, I hammer punches into his ribs, his face.

Anywhere I can reach receives a blow. There’s no conflict in any punch.

There’s a need to make him see what’s obvious to me.

He dared me. He invited this. Every crack of bone, every grunt and groan under me.

Every yelp he tries to quiet… he’s earned it.

Coach bucks beneath me, trying to throw me off. He’s strong, but I have youth and rage on my side. I slam my knee into his groin and he grunts in pain.

“You sick fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

He smiles up at me, his teeth red from blood rolling from his split lip. “Just like you.”

My chest heaves, my throat dry as I give one final punch against his temple and knock him out. I don’t want to hear him. I don’t want his comments, his reminders, any of it. He needs to shut up. He needs to let me think rather than act on instinct.

“I can’t let you go,” I whisper again and roll off him.

I grab some rope out of my bag and drag Coach’s unconscious body to the nearest tree and tie him up. Each knot drags the rope through my fingers, burning my palm. It’s good. It’s grounding. Every trace of pain is, just like knowing that he can’t escape.

He can’t gnaw through the rope. He can’t run and hide like the coward he is. He doesn’t get the police on his side now and he sure as hell doesn’t get to escape the consequences we’re going to deliver.

I stagger back, knuckles throbbing. It’s up to Hope what we do with him.

“Knox?” Dimitri calls out and I turn away from the man I looked up to for so many years.

“Is she okay?” I run up to Dimitri and my stomach churns as I see the look on his face.

No. Whatever he’s about to say, whatever details he’s going to give me, they’ll all boil down to the fact she’s not okay.

We took too long. In some way or another—hell, maybe too many ways to count at this point—we’ve failed her.

I just hope we still have time to make it right.

I cling to it while Dimitri works on choosing his words.

He meets my eyes and answers carefully, “She’s coming to, slowly.”

My brows twitch and I follow him inside.

We walk past a small room, one without any windows. I peek inside and take a breath. A small bed, a bucket, and nothing else. It’s hardly fit for an animal, a goldfish, a fucking plant. “He kept her here,” I note.

Dimitri nudges my shoulder. “She stayed there for most of the time.”

I nod as my insides twist. They told me about the video, I’ve seen a glimpse of it, but to see the room…

it tears something inside me. not wanting to think about what happened in there.

I give the room one more look and walk with him as he rounds the corner to the living room.

Jaxon sits on the floor, with Hope in his lap.

Purple bruises paint her neck and face. They look like they’re still getting darker too.

Only getting worse to reveal the full extent of what he put her through.

My throat tightens. “I went too easy on him,” I mumble.

Hope stirs slightly, squirming and panting.

She’s awake. She’s conscious. Fuck, that’s a good sign.

I exhale slowly and step forward. She cringes, trying to curl in on herself.

She’s not shaking, she’s crying. God, just weeks ago, she was standing up for herself, she was smiling and laughing with men double her size. She was confident and whole and…

“Hope, sweetheart, it’s us,” Jaxon rasps, fighting to keep his voice steady. “It’s Jaxon, Dimitri, and Knox. We’re here. You’re safe now.”

I inch closer, hands up and open. My next step makes the wood below me squeak and Hope looks my way.

She lashes out weakly and it breaks my fucking heart to see her like this—broken, battered, terrified.

She looks like a cornered animal. Ready to lash out, to defend herself in any possible way to ensure she lives.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again,” I swear. “Especially not him.” I take another careful step, holding her gaze.

She pauses, takes a breath, and looks at me, really looks at me.

I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Her eyes snap over my shoulder and then she glances at Dimitri, and she is clearly trying to determine how she can escape, if she should escape, and what’s going on.

She’s alive. Alive is what matters. Everything else we can fix.

At least, that’s what I try to convince myself of.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Dimitri says, and she frantically shakes her head.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up first. Let us take care of you, please,” Jaxon pleads, and she hesitantly peeks up at him.

She’s shivering, eyes and cheeks soaked with her tears.

That doesn’t hide how lost she looks, how broken.

She’s raw, vulnerable, frayed at the edges, but I know we can take care of her.

That’s all we want to do. It’s all any of us care about.

We came to save her, to claim her, to protect her. That’s what ownership means.

Let us in, Hope.

Let us protect you.