There’s no reason to fight anymore.
And as my body goes limp in their arms, I know I’ve finally given up and resigned myself to my horrible fate and untimely death.
CHAPTER 12
DAMON
IT’S DAY FIFTEEN, and Victoria is still out there, in the clutches of Nolan Farrell. To say I’m a fucking mess would be the understatement of the goddamn century. I can’t fucking eat…or sleep…or eventhinkhalf the time.
Nothing will be right in my world until she is returned to me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I mean, yeah, I took my revenge on her father, but Victoria was going to move on past all of that. She was supposed to have a beautiful life without me to ruin and soil it.
She was supposed to be happy without me.
And now she’s locked away someplace where I can’t get to her, being beaten and tortured…maybe even raped.
The thought has my knees almost buckling as I walk the rest of the way to my office.
Baz is already inside, and I can tell by the look on his face that there is yet another video.
The videos have been coming in daily, and each video takes a part of my soul that I will never get back.
Every single tear she sheds, every single scream that comes out of her mouth destroys me piece by piece.
Without a single word spoken, I go to the desk and sit down in the plush, leather chair. My fingers feel numb as I push the mouse button to play the video.
And when it begins to play, I can’t seem to avert my eyes. It’s like a car crash that you just can’t look away from. I don’t want to look, but Ihaveto.
Halfway through the video, I realize something is vastly different about this one.
“No, no, no, no,” I whisper to myself.
This video is different from all the rest because Victoria isn’t screaming. Not even once. But more importantly, she’s not fighting back. She has just…given up.
By the end of the video, I’m a fucking mess. Gripping the ends of my hair and pulling hard, I watch as some bastard gives Victoria CPR to bring her back to life.
She either swallowed the water on purpose or was too weak to hold her breath.
I watch them bring her back to life, and I can see the despondent look in her eyes. She didn’t want to be brought back to that hellhole.
She wants to die.
And by the end of the video, I know one thing for sure — I’m running out of fucking time.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, and Baz stands, approaching me cautiously.
Turning to face him, I tell him, “She needs to be found. Today. Right fucking now!” My voice has reached a fever-pitch, and I’m nearing hysterics. Seeing Victoria broken like that has, in turn, broken me. All I can see in my mind over and over again is her lying lifeless on the concrete floor while one of Nolan’s men gives her CPR — his mouth on hers and his hands pawing at her while he pumped her heart back to life.
Something inside of me just snaps.
Releasing a feral growl, I clear the desk in one fell swoop of my arm. The monitor goes crashing to the floor, the screen splintering upon impact.
Feeling like a caged animal, I pant, trying to catch my breath as my hands grip the edge of the large oak desk, threatening to upheave it in my rage.
My ragged breathing is the only sound in the room until I hear several chimes coming from Baz’s phone. He’s quick to answer the call, muttering in his native tongue and leaving me in the dark.
After he hangs up, an actual smile forms on his lips.
