With one last look at the man I once loved, I duck around him, staying just out of arm’s reach with each step I take.
I almost allow myself to feel relieved when my fingers fumble with the lock, but I know better than that. I know better than to celebrate an escape too early, and this time is no exception.
A hard body presses to my back, tearing a startled scream from my chest. Even though I expected him to chase me, the feel of him against me is too familiar, and every second he touches me hurts more than the last.
“You think you can just drop that on me and run?” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver through my body.
It doesn’t seem to matter that my mind knows the consequences of allowing him to touch me, my body still remembers how good we were together. Even as we found our way together, learning our own bodies as we learned each other’s, it was always fireworks.
“Get off me,” I grind out, forcing strength into each word.
“No.”
“Ronan,” I growl.
“I said no, Chloe. You can’t just tell me everything they told me about your escape was a lie and expect me not to have questions.”
I don’t know what he thinks we have left to talk about, but I’m done. I’ve already dealt with the trauma of that night as best I can, and it’s not my responsibility to baby him through his own.
Mind made up, I drop my forehead to the door, drag in a resolved breath, and then slam my head back into his face as hard as I can.
Sharp pain shoots through the back of my skull, but the second he steps back, I’m out the door, not giving him another second to corner me.
I sprint down the hallway, my body screaming with every step I take, but I don’t stop. Frantic energy beats in my chest as my feet carry me back the way I came.
Once I’ve turned the second corner, I force myself to look back, to check if he’s following me, but there’s no one aside from a handful of confused nurses standing by their station.
As I turn to look back where I’m going, I slam straight into a hard chest, which only makes the tears falling against my chest come harder.
Why can’t just one thing work for me today?
Or ever, really.
The last ten years have been one misstep after another, and I’m starting to wonder if I should just let the Lombardis put me out of my misery.
Arms wrap around me, holding me steady as I sob uncontrollably, but it’s not until they speak I realize I’m safe.
“I’ve got you, Siren. You’re okay now,” Ryker whispers into my hair.
And for some reason I believe every word he says, even knowing it’s probably going to destroy me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RYKER
THEN
THREE MONTHS AGO
Blood coats my hands. Actually, it coats my whole body, and the ground, and the chair the fucker is tied to.
Not for the first time, I wonder how it’s possible for so much blood to run through our veins that it can make such a mess, but I’m pulled from my thoughts by another long scream.
God, this asshole is a screamer, and I’m sick of the whining.
I mean sure, I’ve just got done cutting off all the toes from his left foot, and he’s missing more than a few teeth, but does he have to be such a baby about it?
Especially seeing as he had no problems killing three women in the last six months, moving from town to town, gaining the trust of widows just to torture and kill them.
