Sin of Fury

Chapter 3

Jamie flinched as the door shut with a slam. She choked down the familiar tears and sagged, shoulders curling defensively. The fighting wasn’t new to her and neither was the pain it caused—both physically and mentally—but that didn’t mean it hurt any less every time.

Her hand curled around the sponge she held. She had been cleaning up the beer Chris had spilled, but it hadn’t been his fault. It had been hers. Everything was, just like Chris liked to yell at her. Her heart jerked, chest aching. Her legs were wobbly and her hands were numb.

Turning away from the bright window, the spilled beer, from everything, Jamie threw the sponge to the ground and ran to the bedroom, not even checking to see if his car was still in the driveway. Her heart pounded with pent up pain; it was almost too hard to keep from sobbing.

The door knob was cold under her hand. Just like the room inside. The plain bed sheets were spotless, everything in the room in order. There were no clothes on the floor, nothing to tell anyone that their relationship was a mess, nothing that led people to believe they were anything but a happy couple.

Chris made sure that people knew whom she belonged to. He bragged constantly about the beautiful trophy girlfriend he had, about where her family came from. She gagged, not even making it to the bed before she fell to her knees, arms wrapping around tightly her stomach. He told anyone and everyone who would listen that they were happy— she wondered what would happen if they actually knew what went on behind closed doors?

Jamie shuddered to think about it. Her father hadn’t been much better, but at least his grip hadn’t been as bruising as Chris’s was. She looked at her arms, the yellowing skin white in the glare of the lights. Large glass windows were the only thing protecting her from prying eyes—which wasn’t much. The heated pool outside reflected soft lights and hues into the room. Everything looked like a snowy wonderland—except for the fact that the place was in no way a “wonderland”.

She finally let the tears pooling in her eyes fall.

How long til Chris would be back? She hadn’t heard his truck leave the driveway, though he might’ve tried to walk.. He paced a lot when he was drunk; he liked to move around, to stomp and rage.

Jamie closed her eyes before standing up, trying to breathe calmly. Chris wouldn’t be back til later, so she had enough time. As panic welled fiercely in her heart, Jamie felt an urgency that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She ran to the closet, throwing open the doors.

There should have been a suitcase in there somewhere, under all of the boxes. When Chris had taken her cell phone from her, shutting it off and canceling any previous plans, he had thought that she would be intimidated enough to stay. He hadn’t considered that he should hide the suitcase.

Thankful for his forgetfulness, Jamie found the large black bag and pulled it out. Her shaking hands wrapped around the handle, dragging it to the bed. Setting it on the large, king-size mattress, she looked frantically over her shoulder to see if Chris might be standing there, his fist raised, coming at her.

She started trembling violently. On the other side of the room was another closet, full of their clothes. The expensive designer suits, the well-known brands and jewelry meant nothing to her. When Chris had first started courting her, she had been flattered, wearing them with pride.

Now, the pride was drained from her, the happiness derived from her life. Her mother had known, she thought as she slowly opened the shutter closet. Jamie feared that if she were too loud, Chris would hear her. A silly thought.

He wasn’t even in the house.

Feeling ridiculous, a nervous laugh bubbled in her throat. The only thing that kept her moving, kept her packing, was that there was still hope to get away. Her mother had called last night, the first time in three years. The conversation hadn’t been completely unpleasant, but the second she had read the unfamiliar number, she had known.

She’d lifted the phone slowly, her voice but a whisper. Chris had been asleep on the couch, passed out, drunk off his ass. She sneered, remembering disgustedly how he had smelled of sex and beer. He hadn’t had the time to yell at her, of course, or to even make a move at her.

He had been too busy slumping against the door, falling asleep right there. Jamie had tried to drag him to the bed, hands shaking and body repulsed by their close proximity. She was still shocked that she had even tried to make a move toward him; but seeing him lying there, handsome face clean of anger, had reminded her of the days when everything had been happy, pure.

Jamie snorted, pain pulsing through her shoulder as she reached up for the hangers. She winced, but pushed it aside. If she could just get out of the house before Chris came back, there would be no more pain, no more anything.

She recalled her mother’s phone call, the small feather of hope that had risen inside of her last night returning. Just thinking of the soft voice was enough to strengthen her. Jamie gave a muted curse as her shoulder throbbed even more, but carried the hangers to the bed.

“Come home, Jamie,” her mother had whispered. Jamie had frozen. Her heart had stopped, trying to believe if it really were her. The soft sob had been enough of a confirmation.

“Mother?” she’d asked, hand turning numb from how hard she was clutching the phone. Before, when Chris had let her have a cellphone, she had been able to call and text her mother, despite the fear that he would find out.

She never got a reply.

“He’s gone,” she remembered her mother saying into the line tremulously. “You can come back to me, he’s gone.” The utter joy that statement brought, despite the flash of old betrayal, had kindled a hope into Jamie’s heart that she hadn’t felt in forever.

The call ended shortly after that, her mother pleading with her to come home. She hadn’t mentioned Chris at all, something that Jamie was grateful for. She would have broken down right then. Taking a breath, Jamie used the sound of her mother’s voice to push her forward, to seal the zipper closed.

Jamie stared at the closet, eyes haunted. She had only grabbed the things that she had brought with her. There were no family heirlooms within the house—when her father had thrown her out, he hadn’t let her take anything except what she had bought with her own money.

Staring down at the packed suitcase, she felt frozen. Was she actually going to do this? She thought. After so long, she was actually going to leave Chris. Would he know to look for her with her mother? She highly doubted it—he had made sure that she cut all ties with her family, and he would probably think that she was too much of a coward to face her father again.

She could only agree with that. If her mother hadn’t called, hadn’t asked her to come back, she wouldn’t have. The shame of knowing that her parents had been right when she had been wrong was too much to bear, and even now it made her heart hurt.

At least her mother still wanted her.

Jamie grabbed the suitcase and started moving towards the door, looking around her. The entire room was spotless. The light from the glass windows glazing over the room, covering it in a shining brightness, would forever be imprinted in her mind. But not as something to remember, instead as something she would force herself to never be put through again. She made a quick trip to the bathroom to grab her shampoos and make-up.

Chris had left his keys on the counter. A rush of relief ran through her, and she sent a brief prayer to whoever decided to give her this luck. First her mother calling her, then Chris leaving the keys to his truck on the counter. Now, if only she could find a credit card…

She walked outside barefooted, into the brisk afternoon air. Her mind was racing, trying to place what she would have to do. Airport…the airport was only a couple of miles away. It was silly of her, but the fear of Chris seeing her in his truck as she drove there flashed through her mind.

He couldn’t charge her with theft, she assured herself. Everything that he owned, everything that he bought, was all in her name. The money from her bank account that her mother had secretly set aside for her as a child had kept them going for a good three years. There was still plenty of money in there, she knew, so maybe she wouldn’t have to rely on a credit card.

She walked back into the house after setting her suitcase in the cab of the truck. Her heart was racing, almost enough to make her lightheaded. With trembling hands wringing in front of her, she stared around the kitchen. The stainless steel counters, the small island table in the center of the room, the stove, the cooking knives… It was where she had spent most of her time. As much as she loved creating things that would make your mouth burst with pleasure, she was thankful she was leaving.

She flipped the switch next to the door, slipping on her soft loafers. Lips tight, she gazed around the room. She straightened her shoulders and yanked open the drawer next to the door, resolved.

An Android that Chris used for business, and several of their—no, her—credit cards lay in the very back. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at them; it was the ultimate payback. Chris had been foolish to leave everything here.

Taking the cards and the phone, she walked through the back door. It slammed shut behind her, just as her heart did to anymore pain he would try to cause her.

The simple act of taking his money made Jamie feel powerful, something that was now rare for her. She could remember looking in the mirror one morning, devastated by what she saw. The once young, vibrant, darkly beautiful woman had turned into a shell. Her skin had become disgustingly pale, losing the healthy glow that it had once held.

Her hair had lost its bounce, the black waves turning into strips that hung down her back dully. Her eyes had been equally as dull. The only time that Chris had let her dress up and become beautiful was when they had company—which, as of late, hadn’t been that much.

Jamie’s throat tightened as she got into the truck, but she held up her chin and turned it on. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had actually driven somewhere. If she wanted to cook, she had a delivery boy bring her things. Chris had been friends with the store manager, and they hadn’t minded bringing her things as long as she paid in full, plus a tip.

She backed out of the driveway, worried that she would get into a wreck and be forced to stay there longer. Her mother was waiting for her—Jamie knew it. Fear of Chris had held her frozen for years, with any thoughts of trying to escape sedated. No more.

The truck’s large wheels slid against the layer of snow that had fallen last night. It was barely an inch, but it had added to the previous falls. Heart stopping in her chest, she almost screamed when she felt the back end swerve on a turn. Jamie knew that if it weren’t for her frayed nerves, she wouldn’t be so jittery.

Besides the terrifying ride to the airport and missing her exit, Jamie got there safely. She almost kissed the ground when her feet touched the smooth patch of pavement. The airport was fairly new; it had been put up when she and Chris had moved to Omaha, and this was the first time she had had the pleasure to actually see it.

It was grand. Her eyes widened as she walked into the vast space. Model airplanes hung from the walls, bright lights shining on the gambling slots. Old women dressed in frilly dresses sat grouped together around a roulette table, tittering over the young man that was sitting next to them. Waitresses in fishnet stockings and black, lacy corsets walked around, carrying trays full of colored drinks.

Averting her gaze, she hurried through the room and almost got lost before she found the front desk. She would have taken Chris’s laptop to schedule a flight to Orlando, but she didn’t know the password and the history, which she had no clue how to delete, would tell him exactly where she was going.

The woman at the counter was dressed in a fitting top, a small hat placed on top of her head. Her name tag read Ashley, pinned neatly against her chest. Jamie gave a polite smile, watching as the woman took in her white slacks and pale blue button up top, the white unlined fur coat open. She had left her suitcase in the car, choosing not to lug the thing around until she knew for sure that she would be able to leave.

“Hi, what do you need today?” the woman asked, eyes cooling considerably as they landed on her diamond necklace. Jamie swallowed, wishing she had remembered to throw the thing away. It was a constant reminder of the days that had made her smile, of the days she would never have again.

She pushed her bangs out of her eyes, taking a breath. “When is your next possible flight to Orlando, Florida?”

Ashely gave her a look over then dropped her eyes to the computer, popping a bubble. The blonde’s hair was in a bun neatly tucked under the cap, and her brown eyes were dull. Jamie could have felt the distaste from a mile away.

Bags were milling slowly behind her, disappearing into black folds that she knew would lead to a plane. A plane that she wished she could be on right now, she thought with a mental sigh. The desk worker looked up, clucking her tongue.

Hiding a cool look, brown eyes met her as she gave a forced polite smile. “Our earliest flight for Orlando is tomorrow at eight in the morning.”

Jamie ignored the condescension and pulled out her black master card. “Here,” she said, holding it out. The woman took it and looked at her. Jamie hated telling people what to do, but nodded toward the computer. “I’ll be taking that flight.”

Ashley nodded, then rung it up in silence. It took close to ten minutes to get all of the credentials. After printing the ticket out, Ashely handed the papers to Jamie with another fake smile and said brightly, “Have a good day!”

Jamie turned on her heel, eyes lowering as she looked covertly around her, scanning. Chris wasn’t anywhere, she told herself. He wasn’t watching her, coming after her, or going to hurt her—he didn’t even know she had left.

She walked into the cold air, the slap of the wind making her head turn. The truck was still in its normal place, no suspicious men lurking around. Jamie held in a sigh, unlocking the car door and getting in quickly. She decided that she would have to stay in a hotel—there was no way in hell she was going back to that house and risk not being able to leave.

Jamie tried to remember where the farthest ATM was at. Although they were her credit cards, Chris still had access to them and could find her through them. Remembering that there was an ATM on the south side, several miles away from the airport, she started the truck and began driving.

The truck was chilly, her mind was racing, and she couldn’t hold still. Halfway to the ATM, Jamie started to feel something burning into her back. Not physically, but it might as well have been. Turning her head, she looked behind her then turned forward, eyes flickering to the overhead mirror. Her heart stopped in her chest, hands turning white on the wheel.

Jamie felt as if the eyes were burning into her, searing her. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, and it caused her mind to run off track. It reminded her much of the way that Chris had stared at her in one of his drunken rages, with such hate and repulsion. She could still feel the harshness of his words, his hands, as those eyes held hers. Green, sharp, and piercing, she thought for a horrifying moment that Chris was following her, staring at her.

She shook her head, knowing that wasn’t it. They were too malicious, too...deadly. Even without knowing who was watching her, the sick feeling in her stomach alerted her that whatever was watching her, hated her more than anything ever had before.

Jamie forced herself to ignore it, tried to focus on getting enough money to get a decent hotel room to last her the night. She only took one hundred out of the account, figuring it would be enough for room service and a nice enough place to sleep.

The Marina Inn. Pressing the gas pedal with a trembling leg, the eyes getting worse, she drove slowly, and struggled to stay calm. It was a nice hotel, had a pool and hot tub, and was close to the airport. Her stomach growled, yet as she drove, hands shaking and face pale, she knew that if she tried to eat anything it would come right back up.

In only thirty minutes, she had a room, her clothes for later spread out on the bed, and the shower running with room service on the way. Her heart was turning in her chest, matching the actions of her stomach, as she looked out of the shaded window. The room was adorned with creamy curtains to match the walls, a thick green bedspread with vector swirls rimming the bottom.

The kitchen was not as grand as it had been at Chris’s house, yet she doubted she was going to use it on her one night stay. She started taking off her clothes, trying not to look at the bruises covering her body, and entered the bathroom. Steam was rising from the large tub as hot water sprinkled from above.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she stepped inside. Before, at Chris’s house, she had taken less than five minute showers, afraid that he would try to take advantage of her. Now, though, she had a whole room to herself with a hot bath to top it off.

The water level had risen enough that it filled half the tub. Jamie sat down slowly, hating the tenderness in her back and shoulder. Refusing to look anywhere but the water, she settled on closing her eyes and relaxing. It felt so good, she thought, to be as free as she felt. She grabbed her shampoo from the side, the conditioner already set out from when she had started the water along with her favorite scented soap.

Jamie knew she wouldn’t be able to take her shampoo and conditioner with her, so she was going to relish her use of it right then. With the biggest smile she had given in a long time, she started lathering her hair. The hot water flowed around her slim legs, her long black hair washed in ten minutes. The conditioning took just as long, and she could have cared less.

Feeling rejuvenated, fresh, and finally like a woman, she stepped from the shower and began blow drying her hair. She might not have anyone to dress up for, Jamie thought as the brush slid through her long tresses, but she didn’t care. For once, it was just about her.

She glanced at the clock, flipping her hair over her shoulders as she started on the other side. In only a couple of minutes, room service would be there. She started smiling again, running her hand through her now fluffed hair. Wrapping the towel tighter around her body, she turned off the blow dryer and started getting dressed.

The tender bruises on her arms failed to bother her. If anything, they made her more aware that she was finally free. Exhaling excitedly as the doorbell rang, she practically skipped to the door. She had on sweatpants, the rest of her money shoved in the pockets so that she could pay the food upfront, and a soft short sleeve shirt with a Columbia jacket loose around her body. It had been forever since she had been able to dress so comfortably. Chris liked it when she looked at least neat, and sweat pants were an abomination to him.

She forgot to look out of the peephole. With her good mood came unawareness, her guard dropped completely. She opened the door quickly, excited for a burger and some freshly baked fries.

Except that wasn’t what she got. Two men stood on the other side, looking like convicts. Large hands wrapped around her upper arms, yanking. She cried out, shocked, feeling her shoulder wrench. A man came up behind the other two, a thinner, more frailer image. Feeling her face start to pale, she thought that maybe Chris was behind this.

At least, until, she saw the red eyes.

Then she started screaming.

Lyne waved his hand, signaling the man holding her to silence her. By the look on his face, the man could have cared less as his hand came down hard on the small woman’s head. In less than a second, the echoing scream ended and Lyne was making them haul her down the hall.

All day long he had been waiting, waiting for the chance to grab her. Of course, as soon as he realized the situation she was in, it had become slightly more complicated. He had left last night, intending to just take her and go. But then, he had heard shouting.

Looking into the window, it had become apparent that her current situation was going to be no different than her new one. That saddened him, he thought, watching the man lift a hand to her already yellow-with-bruises face. The sharp sound of the strong hit had made Lyne angry.

He should have been the one to harm her, he thought, lip curling. As he had observed the modern times, it had become apparent to him that it was rare for a woman to suffer from abuse as this one so obviously did. The blond man’s hand came down rather hard, he thought.

The woman, Jamie, had sobbed and turned away, making him catch her shoulder. Shortly after that bout of violence the man had left. Later, he had come back inebriated and falling all over himself. The small woman’s strength as she had attempted to drag him to the couch had impressed him, as much as he wished otherwise.

Lyne had felt a token of mercy for the woman, one that he would make up for at a later time. She had gone to sleep shortly, and he had waited with his men till she woke. The men that worked for him were escaped convicts, men who took pleasure in dealing pain as much as Lyne and Auro did. It had been these men that he had sent on trips to find information, and he was quite proud of their work.

He looked down the hallway to make sure no one would see them depart with the woman. She looked so delicate, he thought, glancing at her. Overnight her fading bruises must have healed because they were no longer there. Although, if he were to pull back her shirt, he was sure to find a dark print in the size of a male’s hand.

Lyne snorted, a jealous action. It was one thing to hear the pained shouts of a man—it was another to hear the terrified cries of a woman. He smiled toothily, waiting for when he could feel her soft hair between his hands as he took over her.

She was limp in his man’s arms, head lolling to the side. As an elderly couple came around the side, his man shifted her in his arms to make like he was cradling her lovingly, giving a convincing smile as he touched her cheek.

They might have glanced at him and his other man suspiciously, but they smiled nonetheless and walked on, holding hands. Lyne’s lip curled as he looked at his man with a raised brow. He said nothing in reply, just shifted back to where she was flopped over his arm.

They were just inside the car when she started to awaken, hands fisting and eyelashes fluttering. Lyne narrowed his eyes on her, smelling the slow drip of blood as she awoke. Her small movement had caused her a wound, he realized. A smile graced his cracked lips.

Jamie’s eyes opened as clarity reigned in, a scream bubbling in her throat. A car door slammed right near her head and she jerked, arms wrapping around her waist as she struggled to sit up. Looking around herself, horrified, she realized that she was in a car, two men on either side of her, with two others in the front.

Her heart stopped in her chest, then quickly rose to her throat. Tears welled in her eyes as fear started to course through her, the feeling almost making her faint. “What…” Oh, god… “What’s happening?” Her frail voice cracked, earning the indifferent gazes of several men at once.

She shrunk back as the smallest of the lot turned to look at her. Jamie gasped, the unearthly eyes scarring her worse than a gun could have. Just staring at them, Jamie knew that her life would never be the same. Her face paled dramatically, another scream rising as terror overcame her.

“Silence her!” the thin creature commanded, glaring at her as if her terror annoyed him. “Her screams are annoying in this small confinement—I would much rather listen to them as they ricocheted off of our bloody walls.”

The cry escaped her before she could stop it. The way he spoke, the accent, the wording…she knew that this was not Chris’s doing, knew that this was real and she was in true danger. The blood seemed to quickly leave her body, or at least fall to her feet. The scream and fear seemed to make her lightheaded. Slapping a hand over her mouth, her body hunched as a hard hand connected with her already pulsing shoulder.

Pain exploded, the hot rush as burning as a volcano, not only in her shoulder, but in the back of her mind. Feeling the breath rush out of her body, her scream was nothing but air as she fell limply with pain. A dark aura shrouded them. The car turned deathly silent, as if the slightest sound would emit the largest of catastrophes.

Frightened, she shoved her hand in her mouth to keep from making a sound as tears rained down her cheeks. Her body trembled with heavy jerks, heart stilling as his next words penetrated her mind.

“The woman would make a good addition, wouldn’t she? My toys have been needing some new material to play with,” he murmured to the man beside her. His dark head bobbed, yet no words came from him.

Shrinking against the seat, her mind screamed at her to escape, to flee from them. Her soul was doing the exact thing, the knowledge that she was going to die deeply ingrained in her mind. What had she done? she thought frantically, mind racing for a way to solve the question.

The brief thought that her mother had planned this made her heart jerk. She denied the thought, shoving it away from her. Her mind mulled it over with intense turmoil and panic. Jamie forced herself to reason, even as the men around her radiated menace. She was being incoherent, she told herself, forcing a shuddering breath past her lips. Her mind was full of nonsense that didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was escaping and getting to her mother.

Surely, she told herself, looking at the dark men that crowded around her, she was not behind this. It was a dumb thought--her mother loved her, wanted the best for her. Her father was long gone and she had no use in staying away from Jamie anymore--her mother just wouldn’t do that.

Pale blue eyes looked around frantically. The door was locked, the small button pushed down all the way. The man next to her had a scar down his cheek that led to his chin and wrapped around his jaw. She shuddered, the tattoo on his arm revealed by the short sleeved shirt he wore. Inanely, she thought, shouldn't he be cold? A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat, sounding more like a cackle.

Jamie bit hard on her hand, drawing blood. She was so terrified, she barely noticed the new pain.

The man on the other side of her was bald, a tattoo on the back of his head. Did all thugs have tattoos? she asked mentally. Jamie knew that if she tried to talk, it would only turn in a close-throated squeak. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as soulless black eyes turned to look at her.

“What are you looking at?” he growled, his hand fisting in his lap. Jamie’s face paled worse, her life flashing before her eyes.

Jamie shoved her shaking hands in the pockets of her Columbia, trying to hide that she was about to piss herself. A chilling numbness settled in her bones, sliding down her back, and penetrating her stomach.

Jamie gasped, leaning over.

The vomit she spewed landed all over the man on her left.