The rope finally snapped, and I fell to the floor, my knees bruising against the hard surface as the weight of my arms returned. The pain shot up my shoulders, but I ignored it, too focused on Theon’s unyielding assault. The eyepatch man was barely fighting back now. His movements were sluggish, his face a swollen, bleeding mess.
Theon grabbed him by the collar and dragged his limp form across the room, right towards the spot where I had been tied up. The man’s blood left a trail on the floor, his body shaking as Theon hauled him up like a ragdoll. His knuckles were dripping blood, knuckles torn and raw, but his eyes stayed on the man, dark and vengeful.
I scrambled up to my feet and rushed towards him. “Theon.” I grabbed his hand, my fingers wrapping around his bloodied knuckles, trying to pull his attention away from the man. Theon’s gaze fell on me, and his expression changed.
His eyes flickered to the cut on my neck, then the slap mark on my cheek. Rage flashed in his eyes again, but this time it was different—more controlled, sharper, and seething beneath. His breath came out ragged, his hand tightening on my wrist as if trying to steady himself.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his lips soft against my skin, a stark contrast to the violence that had just filled the room. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “Sorry I’m late.”
I shook my head, barely holding back tears. “You aren’t late.” My voice trembled as I spoke, my chest tight with emotion.
Theon exhaled slowly and pulled away from me, his gaze shifting to the machinery behind us. It was old, probably used for lifting heavy objects, and I realised what he was about to do. He walked over to the lever, pulling it until the mechanism whirred to life. The rope I had cut began to lower, and I watched as he grabbed the eyepatch man’s wrists, forcing them together. With practised ease, he tied the man’s hands to the rope, just like I had been.
The man groaned weakly, barely conscious, his blood dripping onto the floor. But Theon wasn’t done. He yanked the lever again, and the machine whined as it hoisted the man into the air. His legs dangled, his feet leaving the ground as he was suspended, arms stretched above his head. The man groaned in pain, blood still flowing from his mouth, nose, and the stab wound in his chest.
Theon’s knuckles were still bleeding, his chest rising and falling heavily, but his eyes—his eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the dark. He wasn’t going to let this man die easily.
And for the first time, I didn’t want him to.
“What are you going to do to him?” I asked. I could bet my life he wasn’t going to leave him like that. I looked up at the barely conscious body. “He is the same man who kidnapped me that night.”
“What?”
I shifted my gaze to him. “You didn’t know? He is. He told me. I thought that’s why you beat him up so badly.”
Was it possible to get more angry than he already was? Yes. Yes. Now, he knew the man came after me twice. He’d been beating him all these while because he thought he was just a stalker who left me letters and kidnapped me. But it started six years ago.
“I’ll take you home.”
“What? You’re going to leave him like this?”
He looked at me, and his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
He’d follow him to hell if he had to.
Nodding, I turned to—holy fuck. My waist.
Almost losing my balance, I grabbed the side of my stomach and stifled a pained groan. But I gave out too much. He caught on and lifted my corset, swallowing at the angry, red burn that painted my skin. His eyes went to the wood on the ground, its glow dying.
“He used that on you?”
Slowly, I nodded.
His eyes came to mine. “Anywhere else I should know of?”
I shook my head.
He didn’t believe me.
“I’m telling the truth. You can strip me if you want.”
His expression didn’t even twitch as he straightened up. “Can you walk?” He decided he didn’t need my response and leaned down, carefully lifting me into his arms.
My heart bounced back and forth in my chest as he carried me to the door, talking me through a dark stairs. I didn’t know the building was that high until we got outside and I looked up.
“This is yours?” I asked, referring to the bike he gently placed me on.
“Yes.”
