Trinity
Everything happens so quickly.
Brody collapses, first falling to his knees, then slumping to his side, unconscious in the sun. For a few horrified moments, my mind and body malfunction. I stand frozen, gaping at his limp, unmoving form.
Is…is he…?
I rush toward him on trembling legs, panic squeezing my chest with every step.
Before I reach his side, I halt.
Brody’s not just a stranger I found immobile on the side of the road.
This man hurt me. Harassed me. Kidnapped and confined me.
If Declan Gallagher gives the word, Brody might even kill me.
A new revelation shakes me to my core.
I have to run.
Even though my psychological programming—and my humanity—insists that I should stay or call for help, I ignore every bit of that cognitive dissonance.
Brody’s in no condition to hold me prisoner anymore.
I’m free.
The SUV is right here, the keys already in the ignition.
It feels like falling, like flying, but I spin away before I change my mind andsprintfor the driver’s side of the BMW, expecting angry hands to stop me every second.
I throw myself behind the wheel, start the engine, and will myself to shift the car into drive and haul ass. Instead, I sit here, frozen in place while I wrestle with my conscience.
I know what I should do. What Finn would expect me to do. I owe Brody nothing. After all, the manabductedme.
I bang my head on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
Shutting off the engine, I fly into action. As quickly as possible, I rummage through the BMW until I find the first aid kit. Then I race over to Brody and fall to my knees by his side. With shaking fingers, I check for the pulse in his neck. Slow but steady. For the moment.
As I tear Brody’s pants, exposing the wound on his thigh, my heart stutters. There’s blood everywhere, and it’s still flowing. Working as swiftly as possible, I disinfect the area using what I find in the kit. When Brody moans in pain, I flinch.
“Sorry. I’m almost done.”
He mumbles incoherently but doesn’t wake up. Once I finish cleaning, I apply a gauze pad and wrap his entire thigh as tightly as possible without creating a tourniquet.
After that’s done, I hesitate for several seconds before scrambling to my feet.
That’s the best I can do for him. Now I really do need to leave.
Climbing back behind the wheel, I turn over the engine and accelerate onto the highway.
As I check the rearview mirror and see his still figure growing smaller in the distance, sobs rip at my chest.
A voice inside me shrieks at me to go back and help him.
My body vibrates with the memory of his touch. The gleam in his eyes as he pinned me to the wall, caressed me, possessed me.
Yet I’m running away because I have to protect myself.
