Page 100 of When The Mountains Held Us

“I warned you,” Travis taunts from above me. Then he’s grabbing my ankles and clicking some sort of cuff over my right ankle.

I try to move my legs to resist him, but the pain from my wrist is so excruciating that I can’t manage much more than a feeble kick before he cuffs the left ankle. A masculine grunt lets me know that I at least landed one kick. It doesn’t bring me nearly as much satisfaction as I thought it would.

“Why are you doing this?” I cry as he jerks me up roughly by my shoulder and shoves me onto the couch.

I immediately try to stand, refusing to let this be the end of my fight, but I can’t move my legs at all. Not even an inch. I look down in horror at the spreader bar strapped to each ankle. He pulls up a chair from somewhere and sets it in front of me, sitting down and hanging his tattooed arms over the back of it, regarding me with nothing short of hatred in his eyes.

“You sick bastard,” I say in utter disbelief. “How the hell did you even find me?”

“You know, you always did think you were so much smarter than me, Oakley. Did you really think I haven’t been tracking your car and your phone since the first night we got together? Do you really think I have no idea what you’ve been up to out here?” Travis sneers the words at me, venom flying from his mouth while his eyes dance with a cruel, sick satisfaction.

“Why couldn’t you just let me go?” The plea in my voice tastes like acid and burns my throat on the way out.

“Let you go?” Every ounce of amusement is gone from his voice, and his expression darkens until I’m staring at someone who doesn’t look anything like my ex anymore. “You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”

“Take care of me?” I let out a disbelieving laugh at the utter absurdity of his words. “You’re delusional if you think this is taking care of me. You broke my fucking wrist!”

“You did a bad thing, running from me. And bad girls get punished.”

I don’t try to hide my look of disgust at his words and the hidden connotation dripping from them like black tar. He stands and moves closer until his hot, reeking breath fans over my face. I try to move away, recoiling further into the filthy couch as the stench of sweat and alcohol permeates my senses until my eyes water.

“What happened to us, Oakley? You used to love when I punished you. Where did it go so… wrong?”

His tone is a shock to my system. He almost sounds regretful. This man is a monster through and through, and no amount of his twisted mind games will ever work on me again. I’m not the same woman I was when I ran from him. I’m stronger now, hardened by fire and rising from the ashes. I glare into his depthless eyes, searching for even a modicum of a soul there, but I’m met with only utter, unrelenting darkness.

“Might have had something to do with you beating and raping me,” I retort, my words laced with hatred.

“I was only taking what belonged to me. What was owed to me. It was your job to please me, to cater to me, to be a loving partner to me. But you didn’t do that, did you? Instead, you were an ungrateful little bitch who thought she was better than me. I don’t tolerate disrespect from my peers, so why would you think I’d tolerate it from my wife?”

Confusion ripples through me, and I know he sees it in my eyes when a savage smile peels his lips back from his teeth. He’s psychotic. He must have misspoke. A slip of the tongue. A product of his alcohol-addled brain. Because there is no way he just called me his wife.

He doesn’t miss a beat, though. Instead, he latches onto my bewilderment, grinning with glee like he’s won the lottery. “Oh. Did I forget to mention that? You really should pay more attention to what you’re signing. You see, you thought you were signing our new lease agreement, but, really, you were signing our marriage certificate. You always were so tired after studying for hours that you didn’t even give the document a second glance. My buddy got ordained online, and all it took was a twelve-pack to get him to sign and date the certificate. From there, it was pretty smooth sailing. Popped that bad boy in the mail and we were married. Congratulations, sweetheart. I’m sorry I never got you a ring, but I promise, if you behave, we’ll go pick one out together real soon.”

Bile rises in my throat as the weight of his words comes crashing down on me, and I turn my head just in time to vomit all over the cushion next to me.

When I finish heaving, I lift my head and look at him in disbelief, drool and acrid sick hanging off my chin. “You’re insane. You’re actually fucking certifiably insane.”

“I’m a man in love. I want you to remember one thing. You can run. You can hide. But I will always find you. Do you know why?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “Because I fucking own you.”

The monster in front of me isn’t my ex-boyfriend.

He’s my husband.

Forty-Eight

Levi

Tires screech against pavement as Justin jerks the truck to a quick stop in front of the apartment building. Adrenaline pumps through me as I climb out of the cab, fisting and unfisting my hands in an effort to stop them from shaking.

I’m teetering on the brink of madness right now, infinitely close to blacking out and letting the beast in my chest out to play. But a small part of me knows that doing that—losing control before I know anything—would be detrimental to what I’m trying to accomplish here.

Which is getting Oakley back. No matter what it takes. Even if I have to lose myself in the process.

I’ve always kept this dark side of my soul buried deep under lock and key, with a fierce need to protect the ones closest to me. And I’ve been terrified to meet that part of myself again, knowing that if I let it out, there will be no way to bury it again.

Until tonight.

No, tonight, I want to let it out. I want to let it wreak havoc on the monster who has my girl. Tear him limb from limb for touching what’s mine. Maybe I’m sick to delight in the part of myself that promises violence and destruction, but I have no room to care about that right now.