“Good.Now, if my phone is on the kitchen side, I will give it to you to take upstairs.You phone the police and then one of my sons.Can you do that?”Her head jerks in a nod once more, and I quickly bring the small child up to my chest to console her.No one should have to face all of this so young.“It’s going to be okay.”
Tears pool on her waterline before slipping over, falling down her cheeks.“That’s what Malia told me before...”
I brush my hands down the side of her head when she hiccups quietly.“It will be okay.I promise.Just don’t come out.No matter what, okay?”
Taking a deep breath, I take her hand once more and creep into the kitchen.The large space that normally feels warm and smells like home, feels cold and looks lifeless.My phone sits on the table, and I snatch it up on my way to the door hidden by aprons and a few cardigans I keep in here.The round handle squeaks as I twist, and I’m grateful that the twins think to keep the hinges covered in WD40.They do it so they don’t think I’ll hear them sneaking out at night.Or back in.I’ve never been more thankful than I am right now when it silently opens and there’s no sound.
“It will be okay,” I whisper, gently pushing her through.“Remember, stay hidden and be really,reallyquiet.”
She nods, and only once she begins to make her way up the stairs do I close the door behind her.My breath hitches as I move to the counter to grab a knife.I stop as my hand encloses around the handle because this isn’t just a weapon.This could be used against me.
I step away as the floorboard behind me creeks.I spin around, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
My eyelids narrow into slits, and I hope he not only sees my hatred, he feels it.“This is reckless, Mr Black, even for you.”
He smirks, his soulless eyes boring into mine as two of his men enter the kitchen behind him.One is slim at the waist, but stocky in the arms and shoulders.He’s clearly here for the money.He’ll do as he is ordered without a care.It’s easily read in his posture and his expression.He’s indifferent to being in a stranger’s home.The other has a more sinister presence, one that shows he’s going to enjoy doing whatever he’s asked to do.His beady eyes light up as they run over my body, and I know besides Andrew, this is the man I need to be careful of.He’s not here for the money like his friend.He’s here for the enjoyment.
“You should have controlled your sons, Mrs Hayes.We wouldn’t be here now,” Black finally speaks.
My ears ring as I remain frozen on the spot, too scared to make the first move to escape.I need to hold them off until my sons come.Because they will come.They will come before the police anyway.“Why are you still doing this?Any sane person would be on the other side of the world by now.I’m assuming with your connections, you could have made that happen.Or do you really believe you can clear your name?”
Not even a flicker of emotion washes across his face at my words.“No.I have no plans to clear my name.It’s too late for that.But I can clear my children’s names, and rest assured, Mrs Hayes, my children will not stop until my name is avenged.”
“Then why are you here?”I question, finally taking a step back.“My sons will be home any minute if you are here to say goodbye.”
He laughs, showing the first bit of emotion other than the one he constantly wears.Evil.“Your sons will be occupied.I have men everywhere.I’m pretty sure by now, your sons are scattered, running straight to their weaknesses.My men are under orders to take who they can regarding their women, but they are just bonuses.”He steps further into the room.“And the reason I am here is for...Well, I’m here for two reasons, actually.”
My heart races as my back hits the counter.“You won’t win.In a short while, you’ll be regretting not running to the other side of the world whilst you had the chance.”
Although my sons have gone to great lengths to make sure he can’t do that.Every connection they can muster, every client Liam has worked for, are under instruction not to give this man aid out of the country.
“She’s not scared enough, sir.Maybe you should give her those reasons,” the sinister looking man announces.His beady eyes are still on me, assessing, looking for weaknesses.I only have one in close proximity and she is safe, tucked away in one of the rooms upstairs.For now.
Andrew’s lips twitch at his colleague’s eagerness.There’s something else there—desire, and it sickens me.“Let’s see if my reasons change her mind.First one is simple.Your sons have files that do not belong to them,” he tells me.“I want them back.”
“And the second?”I question.
“To collect you, so that when I finally let them bury you, they will feel the years of torture I’m about to inflict on you.I may not have gotten to the wife and child, but my spies assure me, you’re the one they don’t cover when shit hits the fan.Yet you are their last remaining relative, so they do care.You do mean something.Unless the old man survived.Either way, I want them to suffer every single day I have you.I want them losing their minds, picturing all the things I will do to you.What my men will do to you.And trust me, nothing they conjure up will be close to what we will put you through.I may even rent you out and start a new business.”
My eyes widen at his words.Not just because I’m scared or angry, but because I am covered.My kids did make sure I was covered.I’ve been covered for weeks.Both Hunter and Bear were sleeping when Milly and I went outside.I’m too afraid to ask about the dogs.My eyes burn with unshed tears because I know without a doubt our Hunter would have gone for these men.He’s protective.Which means they did something to him.To them.Instead of letting that show, I say, “Where do you think my children get their resilience and strength from, Mr Black?Me.I don’t need them to cover me.The only way I will be leaving this house is if I’m dead, and I can promise you, that will not be today.”
I spin so quickly to reach for the knife, it’s not until I turn back that both men Black brought with him move.I throw the knife in his direction, but the sinister man beside him whacks it out of the way.It scatters along the kitchen floor, dropping near Andrew’s feet.I run to the back door, moving through the pantry, when I’m pulled back by my hair.
I reach for the cans on the shelf, hitting the man who doesn’t hold back his strength, in his stomach.My face vibrates when it’s smacked against one of the cupboards suddenly.I feel the flesh beneath my eye split, and then warmth slipping down my cheek.I twist, kicking the one in the nuts before biting the man who still has a punishing grip on my hair.
He moans, pressing into me, and I gag, bile rising up my throat.Still, I fight, ignoring the pain in my arm as he pulls it back.I scream with all my might as he drags me into the kitchen, the heels of my feet scraping along the floor.He swings me up like I weigh nothing when we near the centre.Breath catches in my throat whilst airborne, but bursts out of me painfully when my back slams down on the table.The same table I’ve eaten countless meals at with my husband, our children and family.
I grunt, kicking him in the stomach before I have time to assess what hurts.He doesn’t even flinch at any of my attempts to hurt him.My shirt gets torn as he grabs onto it, tugging me up until I’m in a sitting position.My head jerks back, my teeth clashing together when his fist smacks into my flesh at my temple.My vision blurs at the same time the room begins to spin, and I don’t know which of the two I hate more.
“I think you should show Mrs Hayes what she is in for,” Andrew declares, his voice raspy like this is a joy to them.“I’ll record it, don’t worry.Give them something to watch later.”
Terror stabs into my heart, and I can do nothing but feel the blind terror running through me.My children will blame themselves.No matter what they see, they will blame themselves.This will kill something inside of them.This will destroy them.My words about us being strong wasn’t a lie, but unlike the man orchestrating all of this, my children have a soul.
The grip on my T-shirt is let go, and I flop back down onto the table with dread, still disorientated.Until I feel hands at the button on my jeans, and it’s like the band inside of my head that has paralysed me in fear, snaps.I scream, kicking out and reaching for the fruit bowl from the centre of the table.I smash it across his face, the tiny glass fragments falling all over me and in his hair.None of my movements are choreographed.They are messy, but I’m not here to put on a show.I’m trying to save my life.
I get up off the table, grabbing one of the chairs and swinging at the other man, but the force of it has me dropping the chair, unable to keep a hold of it.
I’m afraid for myself.
