Page 101 of When The Mountains Held Us

The only thing that matters is Oakley.

If getting her back means I have to get my hands dirty, then so fucking be it.

Justin joins me on the sidewalk, and together we stare at the single-level building that houses five apartments. Most of the apartments are dark since it’s the middle of the night, only a few windows glowing with dim yellow light, but it’s hard to tell which apartments they belong to. I stalk toward the nearest door, its adjacent window glowing with the indication of someone awake inside. I pound my fist on the door, not caring if this is not the apartment Oakley is in, or if the occupant is about to have the scare of their life.

I don’t need a mirror to know what I look like right now. Tall, broad shoulders cloaked in darkness, and a merciless expression on a face hidden in the shadows of the night. This is not the type of man one meets in a town this small, but desperate times and all that.

The door creaks open tentatively, and a pair of cloudy blue eyes meet mine with a look of apprehension obscured behind thick circle lenses in wiry frames.

“My apologies, ma’am,” I say, taking a step back, not wanting to frighten the old woman any more than I already have. “We’re looking for a woman—” I start, but I choke on the words, the weight of them bearing down on my vocal cords and snuffing out any sound.

Justin jostles my shoulder as he steps up beside me, before his palm against my chest pushes me back another step. I take his cue and move to the side, knowing that I’m in no state to try to explain the desperation of the situation to the very confused and wary woman.

“We’re sorry to barge in at this hour, ma’am, but you haven’t happened to see a man and a blonde woman around here, have you?”

She shakes her head slowly, and I try not to lose the last semblance of hope I’ve been clinging to. If I don’t find her soon, if she’s not here, I don’t know what I’ll do next.

I don’t know how long it’s been since he took her. They could be well across state lines by now, and if that’s the case, then how will I ever find her? Worry gnaws at my insides like rats on a piece of cheese, and I have to take a slow, calming breath in an attempt to ease the tightness in my chest. I turn to walk away from the door, not caring that Justin is still standing there in the dim glow of the porch light the woman flipped on, but her frail voice has me pausing in my steps and turning back to look over my shoulder.

“I haven’t seen anyone, but I thought I heard yelling from one of the other apartments.”

“And you didn’t call it in?” I question accusingly, my eyes narrowing on the woman who now stands in the doorway looking out at us, dressed in a frilly pink bathrobe, the ensemble completed with an equally frilly set of slippers.

She raises her eyebrow and regards me with something I can only describe as indifference at my challenge. “The neighboring couple fights often. It’s not the first time I’ve heard yelling late at night.”

“Do you know which apartment it might have been coming from?” Justin asks gently, in a tone one typically uses when speaking to small children.

The further arch of the woman’s brow tells me that she knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t appreciate the placating tone. But she ignores it and, instead, points in the direction of the only other apartment with lights on inside.

“It may have been coming from that direction. Should I—” she pauses her question, clearly trying to gauge the situation, but continues a moment later as if making up her mind to ask it anyway. “Should I call someone?” The ambiguity of her question, and the way she phrases it, indicates she’s not sure who she would be reporting if she did call—Justin and me, or the occupants of the other apartment.

I’m already turning on my heels and striding towards the indicated apartment, not caring to try and decipher Justin’s mumbled response. A moment later, the door clicks shut, and Justin jogs up beside me.

When I reach the apartment, I don’t pause to think through my approach. Instead, I take a step back and kick the door with all my strength. The force of the impact reverberates up my leg, but despite shaking slightly, the door stands firm. I clench my jaw and rear back for another kick, this one fueled with even more rage. The first sign of my monster slipping through. Dirt puffs out from the door, and it groans, but still stands. I’m about to start clawing at it with my hands and teeth when Justin steps up beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder to get my attention.

“Together?” he says, and I give a curt nod while he counts us down.

When he reaches one, the two of us kick the door simultaneously. The lock snaps, the sounds of wood creaking and metal clanking filling the otherwise quiet night air. I’m through the door in an instant, not knowing and not caring what I might be walking into, only praying that Oakley is on the other side.

“What the fuck?!” A male voice screeches, and I zero in on a man who looks like he’s drunk his weight in liquor tonight—and every night preceding it—standing in front of a terrified Oakley.

The sight of her has me seeing red.

She’s seated on the couch, her arms restrained behind her back, her legs spread wide, and her ankles held in place by a spreader bar. The angle has her jean shorts riding up so high I can see the edge of her white cotton panties poking out the sides. Her beautiful blonde hair is wild around her face and matted down on one side with blood. Mascara is smudged beneath her terrified eyes when they meet mine, and all I can see is the look of relief shining through them.

Tears flow freely down her cheeks now, like seeing me was all she needed to finally allow herself to break. They stoke my anger like oxygen does to fire, and I burn with the need to run to her, to scoop her up in my arms and carry her out of this nightmare. My body moves of its own accord, stepping involuntarily towards the woman who has become my entire world, but the click of a gun draws my attention back to the other man in the room.

“Not another step closer.”

I’ve never given much thought to what I might do in a situation like this, but all I know is that there could be an entire army, armed to the teeth, standing between me and the woman I love, and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep me from her.

“Put down the gun,” Justin says firmly from behind me, but Travis only laughs maniacally.

“From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’re in a position to be making demands,” he spits.

“C’mon, man. It’s over. Put down the gun.”

“It’s over when I fucking say it’s over!” His shout is unhinged, the tether on his psychosis snapping in real time, reminding me of the monster from my own past.